Page 21 of To Wager with Love

Running as best she could with the wet material clinging to her legs, Matilda sought shelter under a huge oak tree as a clap of thunder rent the air directly above her. She jolted, and stared about her for another form of shelter, one less likely to get struck by lightning. Remembering that she’d seen what had perhaps been a shepherd’s hut a little further up the road, she stumbled back out from under the oak tree and tried to ignore the freezing rain that stung her skin. A scream escaped her as another clap of thunder exploded overhead, so loud it trembled through the ground, vibrating in her chest and making her ears ring. As the sound diminished, another took its place, and it was a moment before she realised it was a horse shrieking in terror.

She turned and gasped as a massive bay horse reared up on the road close behind her, hooves flailing and showing the whites of its eyes as it fought against its rider’s control. Matilda watched in awe and horror, unable to believe the man had stayed seated under such circumstances and brought the horse back under control. The beast was still wild eyed and terrified when another burst of thunder erupted above them, followed quickly by a lightning strike that hit barely ten feet away. The horse reacted at once, screaming with fear and rearing so violently she thought horse and rider would both plummet backwards, before it finally unseated its rider and plunged off along the road at breakneck speed.

“Good heavens!” Matilda exclaimed, and hurried to the man’s side, praying he wasn’t badly hurt.

As she drew closer to him her eyes registered a shock of white blond hair and her heart skipped in her chest as recognition dawned.

“Oh, no,” she said, as the figure was too terribly still.

Sinking to the ground, she pushed the sodden hair from his eyes, which remained closed. The beautiful, arrogant profile was angelic when viewed this way, his thick eyelashes a darker gold against high cheekbones, and the mouth she’d always believed cruel far softer and surprisingly full in repose.

“My lord,” she said, patting his cheek as her heart raced with fear. He couldn’t be dead, not him. It wasn’t possible. “My lord, wake up, please… please wake up.”

He didn’t stir and Matilda’s heart clenched. No, no, no you don’t.

“My lord,” she said again, more urgently. “Oh, Montagu, damn you, wake up! Please, please….”

There was a sigh, and his eyelids flickered. Matilda held her breath as those startling silver eyes opened and found hers. For just a second he blinked, still hazy as Matilda let out a cry and put her hand to her heart.

“Thank God,” she said, unable to hide the depths of her relief. “Thank God.”

“Am I dead?” came a dryly amused murmur.

“Don’t tempt me,” Matilda muttered finding his eyes glittering and focused solely on her now. “You gave me such a scare.”

“Ah,” he said, his tone mildly curious. “I just wondered why you were thanking God so fervently. I’m relieved to discover it’s not because you’re finally rid of me.”

Though the rain was still hammering around them, he did not try to move and she wondered if he was badly hurt.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded, leaning him over as panic flared to life again. She stared at him, inspecting the length of his powerful body as she searched for any sign of blood or broken bones. The urge to run her hands over him and check thoroughly was something she fought to restrain. “Are you injured? Is anything broken?”

As her gaze returned to his face, she had a split second to register a look in his eyes that made her heart skip before his hand clamped at the back of her neck.

“Oh no!” she shrieked, smacking his arm away and scurrying backwards so fast she landed on her backside in a puddle.

Her heart was thundering in terror of his kiss, as she knew that was what he’d intended. She also knew that, if her mouth had met his any hopes she had for the future would be gone in the space between one heartbeat and the next. She could no longer deny his assertion that there was something between them, some powerful magnetic pull that didn’t seem to care whether or not they actually liked each other. He’d been right, though she’d carry on denying it until her dying breath.

“A pity,” Montagu sighed, sitting up on his elbows. “I thought you might be kinder to an injured man.”

“Injured?” Matilda retorted, getting unsteadily to her feet and doing her best to glare furiously at him whilst wiping the rain from her eyes. It wasn’t easy. “I’ll do you a permanent injury if you try that again.”

Montagu stared up at her, that arrogant tilt to his lips all too familiar. “Have no fear, Miss Hunt, I shan’t try it again. Indeed, I think I prefer that you instigate our first kiss. It will be so much sweeter that way.”

Matilda gaped at him. “You’re insane.”

He stared at her, the intensity of his gaze, that unwavering certainty that he was right giving her the maddening desire to look away, but she did not. “You know perfectly well that I’m not. You want to kiss me as badly as I want you to, but I’m a patient man, Miss Hunt. Now,” he said, changing the subject as though they’d merely been speaking of the weather, and leaving Matilda reeling, “I’m afraid I shall have to avail myself of your aid. I believe I have damaged my ankle in the fall.”

Matilda stared at him for a moment, torn between fervently denying she wanted to kiss him—even though she knew it was a lie and that she probably needed locking up for her own safety—and continuing to fret over how badly he was hurt.

“Is it broken?” she asked, moving back to him.

“No,” he said, as she leaned down and put her arm beneath his to help lever him up. “I don’t think so, only… Christ!”

Matilda exclaimed as the two of them nearly fell again, as she was unable to bear his weight. Somehow Montagu righted them both, and she stared up at him to discover his face was ashen.

“Are you quite certain it’s not broken?” she ventured.

“Quite,” he said tersely. “Sprained, I’d guess.”