rode off. He recalled her almost desperate need to get away the evening before when Harry had approached.
I don’t intend ever to marry,
she had said today. Pondering her strange behavior, he swung onto his own borrowed horse and galloped after her. Already he anticipated with pleasure his next mistake with Miss Ackerly.
C
hapter
S
ix
W indblown and breathless, quaking inside from the turbulent feelings Trevor had awakened in her, Grace arrived back at the Ackerly stables still trying to bring her raging emotions under control. She skillfully eased Firefly into a canter, then further slowed her to a walk, transferred the reins to one hand and tentatively touching a trembling fingertip to her still-swollen lips. She felt an odd tension begin to build deep in her stomach as she recalled the way Trevor’s lips had moved insistently over hers. Remembering the wanton way she had responded, how she had practically wrapped herself around him and brazenly returned his kiss, Grace groaned and felt her cheeks grow hot with shame. Hastily, she pulled the mare to a stop in front of the paddock and slid down, closing her eyes against the mortifying realization that she had thoroughly enjoyed what they had done.
She leaned forward and rested her forehead for a moment against the warm, comforting chestnut hide of her mount. No question remained in her mind: she simply could not allow such a thing to happen again. The sooner the Earl of Huntwick left Pelthamshire, the better. In the meantime, she thought grimly, she would have to do her level best to remain well away from him.
Hearing a shuffling footstep on the ground behind her, Grace abruptly straightened and shook her wind-tossed hair over her hot face. “I’ll see to Firefly myself, Willie,” she said without looking back at the young groom who had, she knew, automatically reached for the bridle. She wanted to remain alone for as long as possible, shamefully certain that anybody who looked at her would somehow know precisely where she had been—and worse, exactly what she had done. When the young man did not reply, she clicked her tongue and led the mare into the clean, roomy stall, gave her some water, and began rubbing her down with strong, sure motions, deliberately letting the rhythm of her movements push the disturbing encounter with the Earl of Huntwick to the back of her mind.
She became so absorbed in her task, she did not notice the visitor who entered the stables and leaned against the door to Firefly’s stall, watching in silence as she continued to work on stabling her horse. Only when she had finished with the brush and turned to fetch a bucket of oats with which to fill the feed bin did she see Sir Harry leaning there, his blond hair gilded by a shaft of sunlight slanting through the hayloft, a determined smile fixed on his too-handsome face. Provoked by the events of the morning, Grace stopped in her tracks and scowled at him for a second, then pushed open the heavy wooden door so it banged against the wall with a thud. She stalked over to the feed barrel in the corner without a word of greeting to the colorfully garbed, self-important knight.
Harry watched her deft movements as she filled the cedar bucket with the enormous scoop, then turned back to the stall. “Is the gossip I hear true?” He moved back a couple steps to protect his new bottle-green satin jacket when she pushed past him again with the rough bucket over her arm.
“What gossip?” Grace asked irritably, banging the bucketagainst the feed bin in her haste to finish and get out of the stable, away from the unwanted proximity to Harry. Firefly, already nervous as she sensed the rapidly shifting moods of her mistress, shied in agitation and tossed her head in eloquent equine protest of the sharp sounds and raised voices.
“The gossip about you and the Earl of Huntwick, of course,” he replied, watching her closely to gauge her reaction. He was not disappointed.
Grace stiffened and set her
I don’t intend ever to marry,
she had said today. Pondering her strange behavior, he swung onto his own borrowed horse and galloped after her. Already he anticipated with pleasure his next mistake with Miss Ackerly.
C
hapter
S
ix
W indblown and breathless, quaking inside from the turbulent feelings Trevor had awakened in her, Grace arrived back at the Ackerly stables still trying to bring her raging emotions under control. She skillfully eased Firefly into a canter, then further slowed her to a walk, transferred the reins to one hand and tentatively touching a trembling fingertip to her still-swollen lips. She felt an odd tension begin to build deep in her stomach as she recalled the way Trevor’s lips had moved insistently over hers. Remembering the wanton way she had responded, how she had practically wrapped herself around him and brazenly returned his kiss, Grace groaned and felt her cheeks grow hot with shame. Hastily, she pulled the mare to a stop in front of the paddock and slid down, closing her eyes against the mortifying realization that she had thoroughly enjoyed what they had done.
She leaned forward and rested her forehead for a moment against the warm, comforting chestnut hide of her mount. No question remained in her mind: she simply could not allow such a thing to happen again. The sooner the Earl of Huntwick left Pelthamshire, the better. In the meantime, she thought grimly, she would have to do her level best to remain well away from him.
Hearing a shuffling footstep on the ground behind her, Grace abruptly straightened and shook her wind-tossed hair over her hot face. “I’ll see to Firefly myself, Willie,” she said without looking back at the young groom who had, she knew, automatically reached for the bridle. She wanted to remain alone for as long as possible, shamefully certain that anybody who looked at her would somehow know precisely where she had been—and worse, exactly what she had done. When the young man did not reply, she clicked her tongue and led the mare into the clean, roomy stall, gave her some water, and began rubbing her down with strong, sure motions, deliberately letting the rhythm of her movements push the disturbing encounter with the Earl of Huntwick to the back of her mind.
She became so absorbed in her task, she did not notice the visitor who entered the stables and leaned against the door to Firefly’s stall, watching in silence as she continued to work on stabling her horse. Only when she had finished with the brush and turned to fetch a bucket of oats with which to fill the feed bin did she see Sir Harry leaning there, his blond hair gilded by a shaft of sunlight slanting through the hayloft, a determined smile fixed on his too-handsome face. Provoked by the events of the morning, Grace stopped in her tracks and scowled at him for a second, then pushed open the heavy wooden door so it banged against the wall with a thud. She stalked over to the feed barrel in the corner without a word of greeting to the colorfully garbed, self-important knight.
Harry watched her deft movements as she filled the cedar bucket with the enormous scoop, then turned back to the stall. “Is the gossip I hear true?” He moved back a couple steps to protect his new bottle-green satin jacket when she pushed past him again with the rough bucket over her arm.
“What gossip?” Grace asked irritably, banging the bucketagainst the feed bin in her haste to finish and get out of the stable, away from the unwanted proximity to Harry. Firefly, already nervous as she sensed the rapidly shifting moods of her mistress, shied in agitation and tossed her head in eloquent equine protest of the sharp sounds and raised voices.
“The gossip about you and the Earl of Huntwick, of course,” he replied, watching her closely to gauge her reaction. He was not disappointed.
Grace stiffened and set her
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