Princess Charming by Nicole Jordan Page A

suddenly felt herself being lifted completely out of her sidesaddle. Beaufort had hauled her off her horse and set her before him on his own mount, to prevent her from attacking the viscount further.
    Breathing heavily, she sat glaring at Deering, who had spun to face her and was glaring back.
    “You bloody she-devil,” he gritted out. “How dare you strike me!”
    “I was only giving you a taste of your own medicine!” she retorted. “How do
you
like being beaten and abused, your lordship?”
    When he took a threatening step toward her, Beaufort’s sharp command rang out. “That is quite enough, Deering.”
    Heeding the warning in the marquis’s tone, the viscount stopped. Then he looked around him, realizing they had a shocked audience. Activity in the entire park had come to a halt, with all the nearby occupants avidly watching the spectacle.
    Just then the viscount’s acquaintance in the landau drove up to join them. Taking stock, the distinguished elderly gentleman voiced disapproval. “I say, Deering, there was no call to hit the horse so savagely. Especially such a magnificent animal.”
    At the rebuke, the viscount’s face turned a different shade of red, this one resembling embarrassment rather than rage.
    Maura agreed wholeheartedly with the reprimand. She wanted to dismount and comfort her still-frightened horse, but Beaufort’s arm was wrapped firmly around her, pinning her against him.
    He evidently knew the elderly gentleman, for he spoke with familiarity. “Lord Pelham, perhaps you can help relieve this awkward situation by letting us borrow your tiger for a short while.”
    Maura turned her head to eye the lad perched at the rear of the landau, noting his ornate livery.
    When Pelham raised quizzical eyebrows, Beaufort explained his suggestion. “If you are amenable, your lad can lead the stallion back to his stables while you take Deering up in your carriage.”
    “Yes, of course,” Pelham agreed. “An excellent notion.”
    When Maura would have protested this Solomon-like judgment, Beaufort’s arm tightened about her, keeping her still as he addressed the viscount. “As soon as I return home, I will send one of my grooms to check on the stallion, to be certain he has suffered no ill effects.”
    “That will not be necessary,” Deering said tightly.
    “Even so, I should like to relieve Miss Collyer’s mind, and my own as well.”
    The hard warning note in Beaufort’s voice was back, and Deering must have heard it, for he nodded once, resentfully signaling his acquiescence.
    In short order, the plan was put into effect. To Maura’s relief, Lord Pelham’s tiger approached the stallion quietly and calmed him with a gentle touch before drawing the reins over his head to lead him toward the park entrance.
    Neither of the main combatants was satisfied, however. Deering, Maura knew, had again been humiliated before witnesses in a brawl with her, while she was forced to watch impotently as her precious horse was taken away.
    With one final glare at her, Deering climbed into Pelham’s landau and drove off. The spectators eventually disbanded, but Maura sat with her fists clenched as despair and guilt welled up to join her fury.
She
was at fault for this latest explosion with Deering. She hadwanted to save her horse, not expose him to more suffering. Innocent animal that he was, Emperor had only been trying to greet her and had received a vicious beating for his pains.
    Remembering the blows he had endured, Maura felt the burn of tears sting her eyes.
    Beaufort evidently sensed her distress, for he reached up to touch her chin and turn her face up to his. “Why are you crying?”
    “I am
not
crying!” she muttered.
    “I have a sister and a female cousin, remember? When a woman protests so vehemently, the opposite is usually true.”
    She dashed her tears away and swallowed hard. “You are insufferable, Lord Beaufort.”
    “So Katharine and Skye tell me. But that doesn’t explain your