Compromised By The Prince’s Touch. Bronwyn Scott. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Bronwyn Scott
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия: Mills & Boon Historical
Жанр произведения: Историческая литература
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781474073301
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       Rake Most Likely to Seduce

       Rake Most Likely to Sin

      Rakes of the Caribbean

      Playing the Rake’s Game Breaking the Rake’s Rules Craving the Rake’s Touch (Undone!)

      Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

      For Joe and Alexis and the staff at Aleron,

       who have all made us feel so welcome

       in our daughter’s horse world.

      Contents

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       Introduction

       Author Note

       Title Page

       About the Author

       Dedication

       Chapter One

       Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Chapter Fourteen

       Chapter Fifteen

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Chapter Eighteen

       Chapter Nineteen

       Chapter Twenty

       Chapter Twenty-One

       Chapter Twenty-Two

       Chapter Twenty-Three

       Epilogue

       Extract

       Copyright

       Chapter One

      London—late winter, 1823

      St John the Divine was entirely wrong about the end of the world. Prince Nikolay Baklanov had, in the last hour, arrived at a revelation of his own: the four horsemen of the Apocalypse weren’t men armed with swords at all, but, in fact, four young ladies, armed with formidable matchmaking mamas who would give those swords a run for sharpness. He was quite convinced, as he barked at Miss Ransome for the third time to get deep into the corners on her turns, that the world as he knew it would not be done in by widespread warfare and pestilence, but by the trampling to death of his patience over the course of several Thursday afternoons as the girls sawed on their horses’ mouths and disregarded his oft-repeated instructions.

      ‘Heels down, Miss Edgars, or you’ll come off your mount’s back at the slightest jolt! Miss Kenmore, remember the left-shoulder rule, unless you want a collision with Miss Ransome!’ He shouted orders from the centre of Fozard’s arena, home to one of London’s elite riding schools. But there was nothing elite about the skill of the four young misses trotting around him.

      Make that three.

      ‘Miss Calhoun, why in heaven’s name have you stopped?’

      ‘My horse stopped, not I.’ The spoiled chit tossed glossy curls from beneath an expensive stovepipe hat and gave him a pout that had no doubt been practised far longer than her riding skills.

      ‘You are the master here, Miss Calhoun.’ Nikolay clung to the shreds of his patience. Surely their requisite hour was nearly up? Then just one more lesson for the day. Who would ever have imagined teaching four girls to ride was more difficult than marshalling an entire regiment?

      ‘But...’ Miss Calhoun began to whine. His temper flared.

      But? She dared to argue with him? He, who was a Prince of Kuban? He, who had led and trained the Kubanian cavalry? A man who excelled on horseback? Nikolay raised his voice, overriding her excuses. ‘No buts, Miss Calhoun. Set your horse in motion or I will do it for you!’ The last was met with a significant amount of shocked rustling in the spectators’ gallery where the girls’ mothers and maids sat in vigilant attendance. He knew what they were debating in their heated whispers—the merits of questioning him for his harsh tone. Was it worth the risk of alienating him? Or did they allow him to scold Miss Calhoun in the hopes of securing his attentions?

      He did not fool himself. That’s what they were here for: attentions, affections. It was what all his female pupils were here for, well-bred