back and forth, catching the sound of his voice calling instructions. Guerre knew what he wanted. They couldn’t go around the wreckage; they would have to go over it. Hayden signaled for the leap with his thighs. Guerre gathered his legs and sprung.
The crowd along the bank went wild as he cleared the downed horse and took the last sprint towards the finish line, outpacing Carrick’s bay by half a length. They’d won! What a race! What a challenge! Adrenaline buoyed him as he and Guerre were led to the winner’s circle amid a cheering crowd.
The celebrity after a race was a rush of a different sort. People he didn’t know reached out hands to clap him on the back, everyone wanting a piece of the victory. Miss Last Night had found her way into his path, her cheeks flushed with excitement. He seized her about the waist and pulled her to him for a showy kiss that made the onlookers roar with approval. She stayed with him until Logan discreetly detached her at the winner’s circle. Then there was a silver cup and a purse to claim from the pretty daughter of an affluent merchant in town who had sponsored a large part of the race. Guerre was handed off to a groom and he was handed off to meet important people, people who had paid money to see him win, who might want to sponsor an event of their own if he’d come to race in their town.
He had given the people their victory, and now it was time for business. Admittedly, he was just the front. He simply raced. It was Logan Graeme who handled all the details. It was Logan now who had him by the elbow, guiding him skillfully through crowds of onlookers who attempted to waylay him. Hayden shook a few hands as he and Logan passed for good measure. The adrenaline was starting to recede, giving way to more clarified thinking.
“There’s a group of merchants who want to talk,” Logan murmured at his ear, rattling off key information. “They’re from Derwentwater and think they’ve got a lake that will freeze every year. They’re looking for an annual race commitment.”
Hayden nodded, taking it all in. An annual event could mean big money and do much to elevate public awareness of the new sport. “Maybe we’ll be as big as Ascot someday.” He laughed.
“Be serious, Hayden. This would be good for us.” Logan reprimanded.
“Do you have anything interesting lined up?” Hayden winked. “I mean, after the merchants? Not that they’re not interesting.”
“There’s a pretty redhead who came by this morning saying she had business to see you about.” Logan conceded. “I wasn’t sure if I should encourage her. I thought you might still be attached to the lovely Emma Stroud.” “Emma!” Hayden snapped his fingers. “That’s her name. When you see Carrick, tell him I remembered.”
“I remembered for you.” Logan corrected.
Hayden grinned. “Same thing. That’s why I keep you around.” he joked. “You’re the brains behind this operation and I know it well.” Ice racing had been his idea but it had been Logan who knew how to sell it, how to turn it into a profit-making venture and it had been Logan who created this notorious celebrity of his that allowed him to strike out on his own and break free of his past.
“Does that mean you want to see her?” Logan asked sotto voce as they neared the group of businessmen gathered outside the tavern door. There would be warm drinks, plentiful food and a private parlor waiting beyond that door, all for the chance to meet him and discuss possibilities.
“Yes, after I finish with the merchants. Give me an hour.” There was no time to say more. Logan drew him forward with a flourish and the voice of a showman.
“Gentlemen, I give you the champion of Lake Kendal, Mr. Hayden Islington.” There was applause and back slapping. He caught the phrase, ‘What a jump!’ as they ushered him inside and put a liberally rummed hot toddy in his hand. Miss This Afternoon would be here later, his belly would be filled, and his purse was full. Oh yes, it was good to be him.
An hour later, on cue, Logan slipped into the parlor and moved the discussion to its close. “I’m sorry to interrupt, gentlemen, but Mr. Islington has other business to see to today. However, if you’d like to continue your discussion with me, I can assist you but Mr. Islington is needed next door.”
It was all very skillfully done. Logan was a master of tact. The men were in high spirits and eager to get a contract inked. He said his goodbyes and let Logan whisk him to the parlor next door, not that he’d be there long. He’d be taking Miss This Afternoon up to his chamber and he’d be there until supper. He could think of worse ways to spend a cold winter afternoon.
Hayden stepped inside the parlor behind Logan and came to an abrupt halt. Whoa! Miss This Afternoon was stunning. Not only could he think of worse ways, he could think of worse people to spend it with. Red hair indeed! Logan’s description had not done her justice. It was more like the shade of rich red chestnut, a perfect match to the horse that had gone down on the ice, a silky combination of caramel and russet that begged a man’s hand to sink into its lustrous depths.
She stood in profile to them, warming her hands at the fire and showing off other parts that begged a man’s hand too, starting with those breasts. High and firm in the well-tailored carriage ensemble, they would fill a man’s hands nicely — particularly his. The elegantly-done jacket nipped in at her waist showing off a trim figure and reminding a man how neatly his hand would rest at the curve of her hip. Lucifer’s balls, there were a lot of things his hands might do with that body!
The cynic in him, who understood sex was a game like any other, wondered if she hadn’t planned it that way? Logan had only an hour to track her down and confirm the meeting. Yet she was already here; her outerwear, a warm-looking fur-trimmed cloak of brown velvet, already removed and laying on a chair with her gloves on the small table beside it. She’d wasted no time making herself at home in the parlor. Surely a woman of her looks was not unaware of them or of how she might best engineer a scene to provoke a certain male response?
Hayden’s gaze lit on her face and all thoughts stopped right there. The sharp green eyes that met his suggested she knew exactly what was going through his head and she did not approve. He also had the distinct feeling Miss This Afternoon would not swoon over blown kisses, which only fueled an entirely male stab of desire all the more. What man didn’t want what he couldn’t have? But that wasn’t quite true was it? He was Hayden Islington, ice racer extraordinaire, lover nonpareil. He could have her. He merely had to apply himself.
Hayden gave her a confident grin. She might set herself up to be something of a challenge, but she was here all the same. Challenge or not, the conclusion was foregone, and what a lovely conclusion it would be to peel that carriage ensemble from her luscious form, to caress those breasts, to trace the curve of her hip, to test in practice with his body, what his mind already knew in theory; she would be delicious in bed. Hayden looked about the parlor taking in the possibilities; Or on a table, up against a door, with her back flat on the floor. This was starting to sound like a bad rhyme from the schoolroom, the kind tutors used to drill prepositions into their pupils’ heads. Still, if his tutor had taught grammar that way, he might have remembered it better.
“Hayden, this is Miss Jenna Priess.” Logan was making introductions. Hayden dragged his thoughts away from erotic school lessons designed to keep adolescent boys’ interest. He would have been one hell of a schoolmaster. But that wasn’t the point just now. He needed to pay attention. It wouldn’t do to forget her name so soon after hearing it.
Hayden bent over her hand, a very well-kept hand with perfect rounded nails, he noted; his eyes careful never to leave hers while his lips made contact with her knuckles. “Miss Priess, Jenna, how do you do?”
“I’m quite well.” Her
