The Taming of a Vixen

The ride to the Duke's country estate took all of one day and most of another with stops along the way for food and rest from the interior of the stuffy coach. Alyssa rode part of the day, Vixen's Boy prancing along daintily, his huge head up and snuffling in the wind. His eyes and ears were alert as she spoke quietly to him.

He was beautiful, as was his mistress a top of him. Beautiful and spirited, kindred souls that longed to be loosed, to be free of the strictures life put upon them. But freedom was denied both; one by the dictates of society, the other by his love for his mistress.

It was the kind of day that would normally have Alyssa in the best of moods; the sun shining, and the sky clear and blue with just a wisp of breeze to lift the leaves of the trees they passed under. Nature was showing her true colors, blooming in the wild flowers that lined the rutted roadway, showing in the butterflies and the birds that flitted through the leaves and played among

the flowers.

She should have been happy. But all she could think about was Jamie.

He didn't want her; that was what it came down to. He wanted to bed her, to show up in her bedchamber in the dark, part of the shadows that moved through the night. He would come, take her body, flirt and tease her and then leave when he was done with no other thought of her, just what it took to move on to the next of his conquests.

Perhaps she was a little more intriguing than most, due to her circumstances. How many times does one come across a Duke's daughter willing to open her legs without the vows being spoken?

There was one bright spot in her day. Cat was coming tonight and spending the rest of the week with her and her father. For Cat, she'd invited Teddy, knowing that he was a friend of Jason Ashington. A foursome, then, she thought, managing a weak smile.

They arrived at the estate, the servants lining up in the courtyard, uniforms starched and crisp; the maids in pale blue, the men in navy and gold. It was an impressive sight. The housekeeper, Mrs. Meads, was a stickler for decorum.

That fine lady stood closest to the door, her dark brown hair gathered at a bun at her nape, the wind not daring to pull even a strand out of place. She wore navy like the men, but high-necked and long-sleeved with gold buttons decorating the bodice. A wide ribbon around her waist displayed the keys to the house, as if they were a badge of her position. She stepped forward to greet the duke, curtseying low before him. The rest of the staff followed her example.

"Excellent," the duke exclaimed. "The staff looks well prepared, Mrs. Meads. Is all set to rights for my guests arrival tomorrow?"

"Yes, your grace. We've food a plenty, all the rooms have been aired and the linens changed. I do believe, your grace, that Winfred has the dogs all ready for the hunt."

"Excellent," he said again, starting up the steps after nodding to the rest of the staff. "Come along, Alyssa. You should rest before dinner. You're looking a trifle peaked."

"I've taken the liberty of having your bedding turned down, Lady Alyssa," Mrs. Mead said. "Your maid will be sent up with your trunks."

"Thank you, Mrs. Mead," Alyssa said, following her father slowly. He was right, she was feeling peaked. Too little sleep and too many thoughts were causing her head to ache and her jaw to hurt. A nap would perk her right up.

"Bernie," she called, seeing the young man whom she had specifically taught to care for Vixen's Boy. "Give him an extra ration of oats and a good rub down before putting him up, please?"

"Yes, mum," Bernie said, tugging on his forelock.

The inside of the house was cool, a relief from the heat of the sun on her hair. She walked in, twirling as she stared at everything, knowing it was all the same as when they left just weeks before. "I missed you," she whispered to the house. She'd been born there, living there with her parents for most of the years of her life before her father sent her to that horrid boarding school.

But she could forgive him for it now; that time was over and she was home.

"It's good to be home," a voice behind her said.

She smiled at her father, nodding her head. "Yes, I've missed it."

"I know, my darling. But it's a necessary evil, the endless succession of balls and parties. You know this."

"It wouldn't be if you'd give up the dream of marrying me off so soon," she said, a pout upon her lush lips. "I sometimes feel as if you want me out of here so that you may live the life of a bachelor once more."

"Oh, she caught me," he quipped. "My evil secret is out. I want to throw scandalous parties and take up with women of questionable morals." He strode forward, seeing the sparkle shining in her eyes, his hand rising to her cheek. "She can smile. I had thought that skill to be lost in you recently. You've seemed so sad, my darling."

"Home sick, father," she said quickly. "All I needed was a whiff of clean air that held neither the stench of the factories nor the hint of stale perfumes and men's cigars. I shall be fine now that we are home."

"If you are sure..." he said, letting the words hang in the air for a moment until she nodded her head, smiling gamely up at him. "Then I wish for you to go to your room for the afternoon, get some rest. And if you are improved by this evening, perhaps we can go for a ride to the river, like we used to?"

Alyssa nodded, her smile growing bigger. "Shall we also race like we used to, father?"

"Cheeky lass, aren't you now?" he said chuckling. "Your thinking that big brute of a stallion you ride will win against all. And, truth be told, you're probably right." He buzzed her cheek with a kiss before turning her towards the stairs. "Off with you now and leave your elder alone for a while. Rest and feel better, Alyssa, for I shall need a competent hostess at my side for this big to-do this weekend."

Alyssa went without arguing, a fact that bothered her father. She'd been different the past few days; quieter, withdrawn, barely arguing with him no matter what he said. He didn't know the cause of her malady, but he did know he didn't like it. With one more worried glance at her retreating figure, he turned and headed towards the library and his stock of brandy.

* * *

Jason felt the man's back against his own just as the first count began.

"One."

The idiot, why was he forcing the issue and using pistols? Jason had argued with the man, touting first blood with swords. But no, he'd been adamant. Pistols it was.

"Two."

He thought of the girl he was here for, whose reputation had been sullied.

The reason he was standing in this bloody foggy clearing at the terrible hour just as the sun was rising.

"Three."

Alyssa; her name created a terrible sensation in his gut, one of anger mixed with desire. She made him furious, just like the rest of her ilk, wanting nothing but to leg shackle a man to her for the rest of their bloody lives.

"Four."

Wasn't the pleasure enough? It was amazing, mind boggling actually, the amount of pleasure he did feel in bedding the wench. But that wasn't a reason to marry. Hell, that was barely enough reason to speak to a woman.

"Five."

All right, so she was beautiful, all that dark red hair. She'd have Titian up to his elbows in paint if the man ever saw her. And her eyes, soft as the fog that surrounded them now, huge with those wonderfully thick lashes that curved softly against her cheeks as she slept.

"Six."

Those lips; hot and wet, they felt so wondrous pressed against his own. Incredible, actually, as if made for him and him alone. Watching her smile could lighten his own cares and her laughter was a thing of beauty, enough to make him wax poetic about it here, when he should be thinking of other things.

"Seven."

Her body was slender perfection, the type to lose yourself in for hours at a time with no care as to the time spent.

"Eight."

Was marriage actually such a bad thing? He enjoyed the minx's company; she did make him laugh, and in bed she was his equal, taking as well as giving with such sweet generosity. Would leg shackling himself to the little vixen be such a terrible thing?

"Nine."

What was he thinking? Good God, he couldn't marry her! Not as Jamie. He'd barely even talked to the girl as Jason, though he was invited to the hunt this weekend. Teddy also; the invitation had come last night, specifically extended to include his friend.

"Ten!"

Jason whirled, his pistol held up and at the ready. He aimed, watching his opponent's finger upon his own trigger. The man was nervous, his face pale and sweaty. His hand shook slightly, but then he forced it to still, finally pulling the trigger.

Jason's pistol fired at the same time, his aim true as the bullet slashed through the man's upper arm, leaving a bloody trail in his flesh.

He felt the impact of his opponent's bullet, and then a burst of heated pain that startled him. And then he felt nothing.

* * *

The hunt was in the morning; all the guests had arrived but for Jason Ashington and Teddy. The gossip was rampant, starting in hushed little groups and growing as the tale was told.

"Did you hear? The Duke was involved in a duel, how scandalous!"

"He was injured. He was shot in the head. He was killed by the bullet." All these things were blathered around by the gentry as they played their cards and danced to the small orchestra her father had hired.

Alyssa was in a dither, having forgotten about the man in the garden and his ridiculous claim of insult by Jason. And now, if the gossips could be trusted, Jason was at death's door. All of it because of her, because she wanted a walk in the garden so that she might look for Jamie. Was he to be the cause of more heartache for her?

"He will be fine," Cat whispered as they strolled through the elaborate ballroom, neither girl in the mood for dancing.

"How do we know that?" Alyssa argued. "This is my fault and if the gossips found that out, I'd be ruined. Men fighting over me!" she sighed.

"Teddy!"

Alyssa looked up at her friend's happy exclamation. The object of Cat's devotion walked into the room, his hair windswept and his boots dusty from the long ride. He turned, saying something to someone behind him, someone just out of sight behind the door until Teddy moved further into the room. It was the Duke, a wide patch of white bandage wound around his head. He moved somewhat stiffly; as if to move too quickly would cause his head to fall off his shoulders.

He looked up and his eyes met hers. She could see the pain he was trying to hide and the weariness that was creeping up on him, something he also tried to hide from her. But perhaps because of the fact that he was so tired, the shield he used to hide from everyone didn't quite cover all tonight. It allowed her to see a little more of him than he'd probably have intended.

She stepped forward, quickly followed by Cat, who held her hand out to Teddy, a light in her eyes. "So you've decided to grace us with your presence after all, Teddy," she said lightly, capturing his arm in hers and steering him away from Jason.

Alyssa glanced after her with a small sigh. "I've tried to impart a little decency and tact in the girl, truly I have," she said, smiling and holding her hand out to the Duke. "But you are not well, Your Grace. You should be in bed."

"Perhaps in a while," he said, brushing her concern away with a wave of his hand. "Besides, Lady Alyssa, seeing you looking so well has lightened the pain tremendously." He took her hand in his own, noting the startled look upon her face as he set it upon his arm, turning to follow his friend.

They strolled around the room, the Duke stopping to speak to a few people, discussing things of little consequence until they reached the balcony doors.

"Would you care to step outside?" he asked her, bowing slightly and gesturing with his hand.

"A breath of fresh air sounds lovely, Your Grace, but perhaps you should take things a little more carefully. Walking the gardens in your state?" Alyssa's hand rose, almost as if she were going to touch his bandage, before falling back to her side.

"I will be fine for a short time yet, Alyssa. Don't worry, I won't expire on your balcony." He tugged softly on her arm and pulled her with him, slipping through the open door and into the shadows outside.

They walked in silence for a time, finally coming to a small bench that flanked the balcony railing. Alyssa sank down upon the cushioned bench, patting the spot next to her. "Please, Your Grace. Will you not sit for a minute with me?"

"I will if you will call me Jason. Your Grace has always been off putting to me." Jason sat down gratefully, his head throbbing and creating a sick feeling in his stomach. He'd been putting up a good front, wanting to spend a little time with Alyssa, to let her know him as him. It was why he pushed the surgeon into letting him get up and then bullied Teddy into getting his horse while his valet packed for him.

And then the long trip on horseback, the hoof beats echoing as if they were galloping on his skull and not on the roadway. But they had made it, and now that he was here, he wasn't going to let a little head wound stop him from his goal.

"I know. When someone calls me Lady Alyssa I sometimes think of it as an accusation instead of a title," she quipped, smiling when she made him laugh. "This is my fault, is it not?" she asked suddenly.

"No," he said after a moment. "No, it is mine. I should have been more careful but my mind was on other things at the time and...well, accidents happen." Jason touched her cheek, his fingertips bushing over her worried mien. "Don't even think of blaming yourself, Alyssa. And don't worry, my skull is thicker than you think."

"I was aware of that, Jason," she quipped, delighting in making him laugh once more. "But I know the duel that caused this wound was fought because of me. You cannot tell me it wasn't."

"It was fought because someone wasn't taught how to mind his manners better. He's learned his lesson, I do believe. I think he left for the continent not long after thinking he killed me on the field." Jason chuckled. "I didn't consider it necessary to inform him differently. He won't be bothering you again, Alyssa."

"I gather than, that I owe you my thanks, Jason." She looked down at her hands, clasped in her lap.

He lifted her chin, staring into her eyes. "You owe me nothing, Alyssa. Someone needed to teach that braggart some manners. He was the one that choose pistols. And while I was doled out the worst of the wounds, I am happy that it was thus. I didn't like worrying over what else he had planned for you." His fingers slipped over her chin, trailing over the smooth skin of her cheek, brushing against her ear before slipping behind her neck, drawing her closer. "I find I have a vested interest in you, my dear," he said, just seconds before his lips closed over hers.

Alyssa's eyes closed as she felt the firm, sensual pressure of his lips against her own. She hadn't expected the kiss but she welcomed it, wanting to rid her thoughts of Jamie, to rid her body of the craving she had for his taste.

Her head tilted, as he continued the soft pressure, his lips barely touching her own, leaving her with a wicked desire for him to ravish and plunder. With a soft groan, she opened her mouth, slipping her tongue out to lick across Jason's lips, a not-so-subtle invitation to deepen the kiss.

His hand on the back of her neck tightened, his lips parted, accepting the thrust of her tongue inside. His tongue came forth to duel with hers, playing and twining until both were breathless. Too soon for Alyssa, he raised his head, looking down into her flushed face. His heart was pounding, thudding in both his chest and his head.

"Alyssa," he whispered, seeing her eyes open, at first hazy with desire. Then they noted his pallor and the expression of pain that darkened his eyes.

"Jason," she said, taking his hand in her own. "We need to get you inside and to bed."

"Will you come with me?" he asked, his eyes closing against the pain as she rose and helped him up.

"Ahh. Dishonorable impulses are not a sign of a headache, Jason. Your true colors are shining through," she quipped, letting him put his arm around her and taking some of his weight upon her own slender form.

"My intentions are strictly honorable," he sighed, resting his head against her hair and breathing in her scent.

"Oh, Jason, you should watch what you say when you aren't feeling up to snuff. One of the giggling debutantes might just take you at your word and cry foul when you refuse." She started toward the house, going into a door that led into one of the rooms not being used for the party.

"Well, it isn't a giggling debutante I'm saying this to. My intentions are honorable, Alyssa. I've decided that you'd suit me admirably as a wife and I plan to court you."

Alyssa looked up at him as if he were daft. "So romantically put, Your Grace, I don't know if my poor heart can stand the strain of the winsome emotions you've caused it to feel." She helped him sit into a chair. "Now wait here and I will find my father. He can find your valet to help you up to your room. Good night, Your Grace," she said formally, curtseying deeply before turning. With her temper flaring, she stomped from the room.

Jason put his head into his hands, feeling the weakness and pain steal over him. He growled low in his throat at the loud slam of the door as she left the room. "Now what has that girl got herself up in arms about? She wanted to marry me before," he muttered, trying not to slink out of the chair and curl up on the floor in his misery.

The next thing he knew, two footmen were hauling him gently out of the chair, Lord Edward himself standing in front of him. "We've called for a doctor for you, Ashington. Foolish thing you've done, riding cross country so soon after being shot."

"I had to, sir," Jason muttered thickly, his head throbbing. "I wasn't going to let someone else propose first."

"Propose? Propose to whom?" Edward leaned in, trying to hear the words Ashington was mumbling.

"Alyssa. I think I love the girl."

* * *

She sat up in bed, staring out the window of her room at the darkness of the night. Was he out there somewhere? Did he even think of her? Damn it to bloody hell! Why couldn't she quit thinking of him?

Throwing herself backwards in the bed, she punched her pillow, and then tried to get comfortable, willing herself to sleep. The house was so full of guests that some of the lesser nobles were having to stay at neighboring estates to attend the hunt her father had planned for tomorrow. For those that didn't hunt, other games had been arranged and entertainments planned to keep all busy and enjoying themselves. After the hunt, a lavish ball had been arranged, one that would outshine anything given so far this season.

And instead of being excited, all Alyssa could do was wonder about Jamie.

A light click caught her attention and she turned over in bed, sitting up to stare at the shadowed figure that stood by her balcony door.

"Who are you?" she hissed, a shiver of both fear and anticipation slipping down her spine.

"You know who I am, Alyssa. I've missed you." His deep voice was unmistakable, despite that damnable mask hiding his face.

"No, Jamie, you can't be here. You have to leave." She slipped from the bed, going to him in her bare feet, the light summer gown floating around her. Tiny straps at her shoulders were the only thing holding it up. "You have to leave, Jamie." Her hands went to his chest as if to push him from the room.

Before she could, his hands took her arms, pulling her roughly against him, his mouth coming down upon hers. There was nothing gentle or cajoling about the kiss. It was rough and randy, desperate for the taste of her, for the soft feel of her body against his. His groan was loud and heartfelt, sending shivers of longing through her.