She chuckled. “I wouldn’t want to go through that kind of inspection too often.” She looked sideways at Liam. “I’m sure Caroline can’t wait to be the next Mrs. Wyndham, laying down the law for the rich and famous. How thrilling.”
A feminine squeal interrupted Liam’s belated response. Several seconds passed before he recognized the voice as Caroline’s—and the carriage, passing them at a rapid clip, as Perry’s gig.
Perry’s gig, driven by a girl. A girl with blond hair. Caroline, urging Perry’s team to a reckless pace on the old speeding drive that ran alongside the main avenue to the ocean.
Caroline squealed again as the gig hit a rut in the road and her hat went flying. The speeding drive had once been the province of young bucks anxious to test their teams against each other, but it hadn’t been kept up. It was uneven, furrowed by weather, dangerous…
And Caroline didn’t know a bloody thing about driving.
Chapter Fifteen
Were it good
To set the exact wealth
of all our states
All at one cast?
to set so rich a main
On the nice hazard
of one doubtful hour?
—William Shakespeare
THE GIG WAS well ahead before Liam slapped his own team from their easy trot into a rolling canter. Even that wasn’t fast enough; Caroline had her horses at the gallop.
Liam cursed and exhorted his team to greater speed. He had only an instant to spare for Mac; he started to warn her, but she was already prepared. She caught the edge of the seat as they burst into flight.
The surrey bumped over uneven patches on the pitted clay surface and swayed with the speed, but Mac was sitting up, her face into the wind, grinning from ear to ear.
“Can you go any faster?” she shouted. Bummer echoed her plea with a bark from the rear, and Norton passed them by, tongue lolling.
By all the saints, Mac had never looked more alive, more attractive than she did now, with the wind ruddying her skin and her short hair in windblown tangles. It was as if she might spread wings and fly of her own accord.
Liam knew that feeling. It was the very soul of existence. Adventure, risk, the reckless need to dare the limits of life itself: Mac felt their seductive power just as he did. And Liam was caught in a rush of desire as powerful as it was unexpected.
Desire he had tried to ignore ever since their brief time together in the jungle. Desire he shouldn’t be feeling, born of the excitement of the moment and of his anger and his wayward thoughts.
The surrey was almost even with the gig as they started up the curved, ascending lane to the jutting headland on which Cliff House perched. Both carriages slowed, and Liam could see Perry’s steadying hands over Caroline’s. Guiding her, encouraging her to defy her guardian.
Caroline was breathless with laughter. Like Mac, and totally unlike. All Liam felt as he watched Caroline laugh was rage.
And fear. Gut deep, coming out of a past long gone—fear of failure. And loss, and death.
He drove that madness away and pulled the surrey alongside the gig with a sharp jerk of the reins.
They looked at him, Perry and Caroline—her smile fading, his gaze cool, united in their mutiny. Reins slackened, and the horses came to a stop.
“You see, Liam,” Caroline said triumphantly. “I can drive.”
Liam pushed the reins into Mac’s hands and jumped down from the surrey. “Get out of the gig, Caroline,” he ordered.
She tightened her fingers on the gig’s reins and lifted her chin. “No. Perry and I were only—”
“Get out. Now.” Liam reached up and snatched the reins from her hands.
“See here, old man,” Perry said. “There was never any danger. I’d advise you to calm yourself.”
Liam turned on Perry. “You blackguard.” He helped Caroline down. “Go inside and wait for me.”
She feigned a sob. “Liam, please—”
But he wouldn’t be moved by her tricks. “Miss MacKenzie,” he said between his teeth, “would you be so kind as to accompany Miss Gresham into Cliff House?”
Mac scrambled down from her seat. “Get a grip, O’Shea,” she hissed as she passed him. She gently took Caroline’s arm, and the two women moved off.