Priscilla takes the challenge

"I assure you, Lord Worthington," Miss Dunning used Jason's formal title for the first time that weekend, "that I can be just as adventurous as our hostess, maybe even more so." The blonde songstress was almost wiggling in anticipation as she rode alongside Charlotte.

"Priscilla," Charlotte tried to diffuse the situation before it got out of control, "I'm so sorry that Mr. Worthington's poor judgement has effected his questionable sense of humour." She turned to Jason intending to stare him down until he backed off this mad scheme, but to her shock she saw he was drawing a coil of chain from his saddle bags with a gleam in his eye that was every bit as predatory as what she saw last night.

"Jason! This isn't funny any more." Not that it ever was. "Stop this right now, or I'll insist we return home at once." Mr. Worthington ignored her protest and nudged his black hanoverian closer to Priscilla's grey with three loops of chain in his hand.

"Miss Marlton warned me that she'd play her roll to the fullest," Jason chuckled conversationally as he draped the three coils of chain around the giggling Priscilla and drew them tight pinning the petite woman's arms securely to her side and snapping a clasp shut locking the chain in place. "I see you are much better at playing the damsel in distress than our hostess."

"Perhaps I've had more practice at this than our shy, drab Charlotte." Miss Dunning teased as she correctly interpreted the panic in Charlotte's expression. Jason was a little slower to realize how little Charlotte wanted to do with this game of his; perhaps she had played her role too well last night, because he was genuinely surprised when she kicked Copper in the ribs and took off along the path away from him and his sick games. There was no way in any of the seven Hells that she was going to let that arrogant sadist chain her up like a lamb for market, not without a fight!"

Unfortunately the underbrush along the trail was much too thick to risk, so at the moment she was riding pell-mell straight to St. Teresa's instead of back to the village and the safety of civilization, but anything was better than meekly submitting to Jason and his chain. She did not have much of a lead because almost immediately she heard Jason start up behind her. A quick glance showed her that he had left Priscilla, still coiled in chains, behind and was galloping after her on his broad-chested hunter. It was just like a fox hunt, him with his fine red coat, both of them galloping along a path through the woods, the main differences being the lack of hounds and far more importantly the fact that today, she was the fox.

The memory of the torn and bloody body of the fox from the previous hunt hanging from Jason's saddle was all the incentive she needed to bend over Copper's neck and urge him to run like never before.