Duke Looks Like a Groomsman - Valerie Bowman Page 0,12

a bouquet that used to make him hard. This time, it just made him angry.

A few minutes later, he swung himself up on his own mount, a less majestic gelding from Clayton’s stable. He motioned for the lady to go ahead of him from the building.

He watched her from behind. An incomparable lady riding an incomparable horse. She sat perfectly straight atop Alabaster. Even he had to admit, they made quite a pair. Meanwhile, Rhys was racking his brain trying to come up with something to tell her about why he was pretending to be a groomsman. He intended to offer her money to keep her silence, of course. He’d use some of the winnings from the bet to pay her off. But he knew her well enough to know that she would ask questions, and he had better be ready with believable answers.

“Would you care to ride to the tree line and back?” he asked as soon as they’d cleared the barn and the fence. The farther they were from the stables, the better the chance of not being overheard. She shouldn’t ride out with him, of course, not without a chaperone, but he was not a duke courting a young lady. He was a groomsman escorting a house guest on a ride. It was actually much more acceptable this way.

She shot him a look over her shoulder that clearly indicated she didn’t trust him.

“We’ll be in full view of the stables the entire way,” he offered by way of appeasing her apprehension.

“Very well. I’ll see you there.” She leaned down, kicked her heel, and set the glorious Arabian off at a fine clip.

Rhys had barely realized that she’d challenged him to a race before she was off. He immediately spurred his own mount into action to catch up. In addition to being a fine horsewoman, she was competitive, too. He remembered that about her. He’d adored that about her. Some would say he was competitive to a fault, and being around Julianna had never bored him the way his time with other young women had.

Whether they’d been playing a card game, skipping stones in a pond in Hyde Park, or racing each other on horseback, Julianna had given as good as she got and never tried to use her sex as a reason for an allowance. She’d managed to beat him a time or two, and that had perhaps been the most thrilling of all. A woman who didn’t back down, who was as competitive as he was, and who didn’t try to lose in order to assuage his masculinity. Why, he’d never met anyone like her before. Or at least he thought he hadn’t until he realized she was only interested in him for his dukedom. She’d probably been acting the entire time. Was she acting now? She no longer had a reason to.

As he galloped along behind her toward the tree line, Rhys couldn’t help but admire her form. She rode with confidence and mastered the reins. Her style spoke of years of experience on horses. It had been one of their favorite subjects while he was courting her, to discuss horseflesh.

Blast it. Why did he keep thinking about their courtship? It was history. Water under the proverbial bridge. It meant nothing to him anymore and he bloody well knew it never had meant anything to her, so why was his head filling with all of these memories of a sudden?

Damned if she didn’t beat him to the tree line. Although he’d managed to make up a considerable length, she was riding a much finer mount. Of course, a less experienced rider still would have lost to him. He grudgingly had to admit she deserved the win.

“I won,” Julianna announced the moment she slowed Alabaster to a soft trot along the fence that ran in front of the trees.

“What did you win?” The devil made him say it. The devil was so often making him say things.

“The race,” she replied, a smug look on her face.

“Oh, were we racing?” he asked in the most nonchalant voice he could muster.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t know it,” she said with a sly grin. One that he remembered. One that made him want to look away.

“Very well, you won. What is my forfeit?” There was that devil again. Sneaky bastard.

Julianna’s horse came to a stop and she dismounted using the fence posts. She continued to slowly walk Alabaster, while rubbing his flank and gently talking to the beautiful horse. Rhys