Dudley nodded, keeping his gaze fixed on the sleek curricles streaking across the field.
Kenwick raised his head from his slumped position against the wall of the clubhouse. “Go,Lightning Streak!”
They rounded the bend, and Dane’s green curricle swayed dangerously.
His death flashed before her eyes. He lay on the grass, unmoving, his spine broken, his eyes sightless.
He couldn’t die today. She loved him. She knew it with blinding clarity in that moment. She’d fallen in love with humble and honorable Danny Smith. And she’d hated wealthy and mocking Lord Dane. But the man she loved was a complicated mixture of both: attentive and arrogant. Large-hearted yet scared to love. If only she could make him see that love gave you power, instead of stealing it away.
“Go faster, Lord Dane!” Miss Hodwell shouted. “Crush him, mangle him, make him eat your dust!”
They were on the final stretch now, racing neck and neck. Dane rose in his seat, urging his horses to go faster.
“He’ll topple from the carriage!” She squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t look. “Tell me when it’s over.”
“It’s all right. Look, he’s righted himself,” said Somersby.
She opened her eyes. Chisholme’s chariot veered sharply to the right, heading directly for Dane’s. Sandrine held her breath. They were going to collide.
“I told you Chisholme’s a dirty one,” Dudley said. “He’ll get them both killed.”
Dane had to maneuver out of the way, but he kept his curricle upright.
They thundered toward the finish line. At the last possible moment, Dane’s horses surged and left Chisholme in their dust. He crossed the finish line and eased the curricle to a halt. He threw the reins to Dudley and jumped down. His hair was wild, his cravat had come undone, and he looked just like the disreputable scoundrel she knew him to be.
He rubbed his hand down each horse’s flank, whispering in their ears. The horses whinnied and nuzzled him.
The baron’s friends helped him down, and he staggered away, swearing and glowering.
Dane swaggered over and the group surrounded him, clapping him on the back, laughing and cheering. He laughed and responded to their jubilation, but his eyes sought Sandrine’s and held her gaze. A wave of intense desire surged inside her.
“You could have been killed!” she chided.
“But I wasn’t. And now we have something to celebrate.” His eyes sparked with teasing sensuality in the noonday sun.
I can’t get enough of you. I can’t keep my hands off you.
“Let’s celebrate with some champagne!” Dudley said, bringing over a bottle.
“Kenwick’s had enough, and I’d rather celebrate with my fiancée,” Dane said.
“Yourwhat?” Dudley asked, his jaw dropping.
“What’s this, Sandrine?” Roslyn asked. “Are you making an honest rake of our Lord Dane?”
“You heard me,” Dane said.
“Ding-dong, ding-dong,” muttered Kenwick, propped up against the wall. “Whadiditellya?”
“Dane, can I talk to you?” Sandrine pulled him around the side of the clubhouse.
“Alone at last.” He leaned in to kiss her, but she ducked away.
“Dane. Behave. You can’t just announce to everyone that we’re engaged. You’re doing it again. Planning my life without consulting me.”
“I’m riding high, and to the victor go the spoils.” His face grew serious. “How did it go with your mother? I’m very sorry if I was the cause of strife between you.”
“It’s not your fault that we argued. It was mostly about my grandmother. My mother gave me an ultimatum. She said she’d wash her hands of me if I continued my relationship with Ruby. She shouldn’t ask me to make that choice. I’m not giving up hope on her. There may be a way to reunite her with her mother.”