Read Online An Exception to His Rule by Lindsay Armstrong - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lindsay Armstrong
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waters reflected the colours back.
‘Hang on,’ Damien said as he took hold of Sprite’s bridle and clipped on a leading rein so that she and Sprite were forced to adapt to his slower gait.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Harriet asked.
‘Taking precautions, that’s all,’ he replied.
‘I can assure you, you don’t need to!’
‘You said you rode as a child. That could mean you haven’t been on a horse for years.’
‘I’m perfectly capable of riding this horse,’ Harriet replied through her teeth.
‘But you have to admit you’re—well, if not exactly accident-prone, you do suffer from some weird syndrome that could cause all sorts of problems.’
‘Mr Wyatt—’ Harriet raised her riding crop ‘—don’t say another word and let me go before I do something you might regret but I won’t regret in the slightest!’
‘Harriet,’ he returned mildly, ‘it’s not very ladylike to keep attacking me.’
Harriet groaned. ‘ Let me go .’
He hesitated briefly then unclipped the leading rein. Sprite, who’d been dancing around impatiently on the end of it, jostled his big brown horse, had the temerity to bestow a love bite on its neck, then, following Harriet’s dictates, lengthened her stride and galloped away. Tottie raced after them joyously.
By the time they’d reached the end of the beach and galloped back, Harriet’s mood had evened out—she was feeling far less grumpy and even of the opinion that this had been a good idea.
And, following Damien, she rode Sprite into the gentle low-tide surf. Both horses loved it and splashed energetically until finally they brought them out, led them to the edge of the beach and tied them loosely to trees.
‘I’m soaked!’ Harriet sank down onto the sand but she was glowing with enthusiasm as she sat cross-legged.
Damien cast himself down beside her and doodled in the sand with a twig. He hadn’t shaved and he had a curious glint in his dark eyes as he looked across to study her.
‘Tell me something,’ he said. ‘Are you not a morning person?’
Harriet opened her mouth, closed it, then she grinned. ‘I am not. Well, not a very early morning person.’ She was about to add— and particularly not after a disturbed night— but managed to hold that bit of information back. ‘I take it you’re the opposite?’
‘Depends.’
‘On what?’
‘What’s on offer in bed.’
Harriet looked heavenwards. ‘Do men ever think of anything else?’
‘Frequently.’ He shot her an amused glance. ‘Not, generally, at five in the morning with a warm, compliant partner, however.’
Harriet frowned as the wheels of her mind worked through this. Then she turned to him incredulously. ‘Did you get me up at that ungodly hour as a shot at me for not...for...not...for being...for not being in bed with you?’ she said exasperatedly.
‘If I did,’ he said wryly, ‘I had no idea the danger I was placing myself in. I’ll probably think twice before I do it again.’
‘Oh!’ Harriet ground her teeth as she stared at him, so big, so relaxed, so attractive, even if he hadn’t shaved and his hair was hanging in his eyes, not to mention the fact that he was teasing her mercilessly.
‘But of course,’ he went on before Harriet could speak, ‘the real reason I got you up at the crack of dawn was because of the tide. You need a low tide and therefore firm wet sand to gallop on. By the way, where did you learn to ride like that?’
Harriet closed her mouth and subsided somewhat. Then she shrugged and smiled. ‘My father decided it needed to be part of my education. He restored a couple of valuable paintings for a wealthy horse breeder who was once a jockey in exchange for riding lessons. He had a few other notions along those lines—I had tennis lessons under similar circumstances, not so successful; my—’ she cast him a quirky glance ‘—weird syndrome interfered with me becoming a Wimbledon champion.’
He laughed and looked at
‘Hang on,’ Damien said as he took hold of Sprite’s bridle and clipped on a leading rein so that she and Sprite were forced to adapt to his slower gait.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Harriet asked.
‘Taking precautions, that’s all,’ he replied.
‘I can assure you, you don’t need to!’
‘You said you rode as a child. That could mean you haven’t been on a horse for years.’
‘I’m perfectly capable of riding this horse,’ Harriet replied through her teeth.
‘But you have to admit you’re—well, if not exactly accident-prone, you do suffer from some weird syndrome that could cause all sorts of problems.’
‘Mr Wyatt—’ Harriet raised her riding crop ‘—don’t say another word and let me go before I do something you might regret but I won’t regret in the slightest!’
‘Harriet,’ he returned mildly, ‘it’s not very ladylike to keep attacking me.’
Harriet groaned. ‘ Let me go .’
He hesitated briefly then unclipped the leading rein. Sprite, who’d been dancing around impatiently on the end of it, jostled his big brown horse, had the temerity to bestow a love bite on its neck, then, following Harriet’s dictates, lengthened her stride and galloped away. Tottie raced after them joyously.
By the time they’d reached the end of the beach and galloped back, Harriet’s mood had evened out—she was feeling far less grumpy and even of the opinion that this had been a good idea.
And, following Damien, she rode Sprite into the gentle low-tide surf. Both horses loved it and splashed energetically until finally they brought them out, led them to the edge of the beach and tied them loosely to trees.
‘I’m soaked!’ Harriet sank down onto the sand but she was glowing with enthusiasm as she sat cross-legged.
Damien cast himself down beside her and doodled in the sand with a twig. He hadn’t shaved and he had a curious glint in his dark eyes as he looked across to study her.
‘Tell me something,’ he said. ‘Are you not a morning person?’
Harriet opened her mouth, closed it, then she grinned. ‘I am not. Well, not a very early morning person.’ She was about to add— and particularly not after a disturbed night— but managed to hold that bit of information back. ‘I take it you’re the opposite?’
‘Depends.’
‘On what?’
‘What’s on offer in bed.’
Harriet looked heavenwards. ‘Do men ever think of anything else?’
‘Frequently.’ He shot her an amused glance. ‘Not, generally, at five in the morning with a warm, compliant partner, however.’
Harriet frowned as the wheels of her mind worked through this. Then she turned to him incredulously. ‘Did you get me up at that ungodly hour as a shot at me for not...for...not...for being...for not being in bed with you?’ she said exasperatedly.
‘If I did,’ he said wryly, ‘I had no idea the danger I was placing myself in. I’ll probably think twice before I do it again.’
‘Oh!’ Harriet ground her teeth as she stared at him, so big, so relaxed, so attractive, even if he hadn’t shaved and his hair was hanging in his eyes, not to mention the fact that he was teasing her mercilessly.
‘But of course,’ he went on before Harriet could speak, ‘the real reason I got you up at the crack of dawn was because of the tide. You need a low tide and therefore firm wet sand to gallop on. By the way, where did you learn to ride like that?’
Harriet closed her mouth and subsided somewhat. Then she shrugged and smiled. ‘My father decided it needed to be part of my education. He restored a couple of valuable paintings for a wealthy horse breeder who was once a jockey in exchange for riding lessons. He had a few other notions along those lines—I had tennis lessons under similar circumstances, not so successful; my—’ she cast him a quirky glance ‘—weird syndrome interfered with me becoming a Wimbledon champion.’
He laughed and looked at
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