“How much?” he repeated.
“I wasn’t really looking to sell.” Skerrit rubbed the grimy cleft in his chin with his thumb, and Francesca pursed her lips at the spark of greed in the farmer’s eye.
“Perhaps I could persuade you.”
“You can’t possibly mean tobuythe colt,” Francesca exclaimed. Didn’t Winterbourne see that Skerrit would just use the money to buy another horse, and she’d be right back where she started? Alarm shot through her, and she stepped between the two men, facing Winterbourne.
He raised his chin, looking over her head at Skerrit, the only acknowledgment of her presence between them. “Fifteen guineas,” he offered.
Francesca felt her jaw drop. Insufferable man! Had she compared him to a warrior a moment before? Despot was more accurate.
“My lord, the animal is worth much more than fifteen guineas! Only come and see... ”
Skerrit’s whining grated on her nerves, and she whirled on him.
“I have no desire to see the evidence of your handiwork, Mr. Skerrit. The offer is now twelve,” Winterbourne snapped behind her.
Skerrit shook his head, and Francesca let out a pent-up breath. But Skerrit was no fool. He wouldn’t bargain much longer. She rounded on Winterbourne, feeling dizzy at all the sudden turns.
“Lord Winterbourne, I really must insist you donotpurchase this animal. It would be better if I took the colt home and cared for him temporarily.” There. That ought to settle the matter.
Winterbourne glanced down at her briefly, and she nodded her head in encouragement.
“I suggest you accept my offer,” he said to Skerrit over her head.
She almost stamped her foot in aggravation. Instead, she tapped the marquess on the chest. “Lord Winterbourne, have you been listening? I said that I didn’t think—”
“I’ll take it,” Skerrit agreed.
“No!” she protested.
Winterbourne extracted an ivory card from the silver case. “This is my brother’s solicitor here in Southampton. The earl’s name is on the back.” Reaching around her, he handed the card to Skerrit. “My man is in Yorkshire, but show Selbourne’s solicitor this card and you’ll be compensated for the animal.”
“I don’t believe it,” Francesca moaned. All her hard work, and in three minutes the meddling marquess had ruined it, causing her who knew how many more problems. She wanted to scream but settled for waving her hands frantically in front of Winterbourne’s face in a last, desperate effort to gain his attention.
He leveled his amber gaze on her, expression bemused. “What are you doing, Miss Dashing?”
“What amIdoing? What areyoudoing, my lord? I told younotto buy the horse!”
“It’s too late for that now.” He waved Skerrit away.
Francesca spun around in time to see the lanky farmer slink off, grinning his gap-toothed, yellow smile all the way.
“Why are you complaining?” Winterbourne crossed his arms and stared down at her, now treatingherlike the ant. If she wasn’t so angry, she might have been intimidated.
He jerked his hand impatiently. “You wanted the horse. Now you have the horse.”
“You don’t understand. I never wanted to buy the horse. You’ve just given that man money to purchase another poor beast and—wait! You’re not even keeping Thunder?”
“No. I bought him for you.”
“B-but you don’t even know me! You can’t buy me a horse! What will people say?”
“I couldn’t care less.” Obviously, the marquess considered their conversation over because he turned away from her, striding on long, lean legs to the far side of the stable. Francesca followed, though she had to run to keep up.
“ButIcare. My family will care.”
He glanced back at her, seeming surprised she hadn’t disappeared. “That’s not my concern.”
