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Authors: A Song at Twilight
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to his rider’s skill.
They reached the margin of the beach, stony and covered with marram grass, then yielding to softer, finer sand after the first few yards. Catching the salty scent of the wind off the sea, Tregony tossed his head and snorted with pleasure, while Gorlois flicked his ears and stood staring at the great expanse of bounding water in the distance.
Mr. Pendarvis stroked his horse’s neck as they ventured onto the sand. “I’ll wager it’s been a while since he’s been near the sea. I hope it doesn’t make him nervous.”
“Oh, I daresay he’ll remember, by and by,” Sophie assured him. “Especially if you start riding him here more often. Our horses all love the beach.”
She glanced at the wide stretch of pale gold sand now before them, and bit back the temptation to say “Race you,” as she might have to one of her brothers. “Shall we canter?”
Mr. Pendarvis was willing and they urged their horses forward to a brisker pace, speeding up to a canter once they reached the water’s edge. And suddenly, without a word exchanged between them, they were racing, breaking into a full gallop, side by side along the shore. The stiff ocean breeze whistled in Sophie’s ears, stung the blood into her cheeks, as Tregony’s hooves thundered beneath her. Breathless and half laughing in sheer pleasure, she glanced at her companion and was surprised by a grin, wide, brilliant, and utterly unguarded, that transformed that too-serious face into something almost boyish—and devastatingly attractive.
It wasn’t just the race that had her short of breath now. Flushing, she concentrated on pulling ahead, but he kept pace with her, Gorlois matching Tregony stride for stride.
They pulled up at last, panting and laughing. And Mr. Pendarvis’s laughter was every bit as potent as his grin, Sophie discovered.
“I’d say we call that even, wouldn’t you, Miss Tresilian?” he remarked, patting Gorlois’s gleaming neck. The bay gelding snorted, his earlier misgivings about the water gone, clearly keen to go on racing.
“A draw, I confess it,” Sophie gasped, holding up a hand as Tregony sidled and danced beneath her. “Oh, dear—I think I’ve got a stitch in my side!”
“Then we’ll stop at once,” he said with instant solicitude. “Do you need some help down from the saddle?”
Sophie felt her heart give a curious sort of flutter that had nothing to do with the race they’d just run. She took an extra moment to reply, letting her breathlessness mask her confusion. “Thank you. I would be glad of some assistance.”
He swung down from the saddle—very smoothly, a part of her mind noted—and then came around to her side. Sophie slipped her leg from around the pommel, then turned to descend into his waiting arms.
His hands caught her about the waist and lifted her down as if she weighed nothing at all. Strong hands, with a firm grip; she felt their warmth even through his leather gauntlets and her woolen habit, and an answering warmth flooded through her from head to toe. Flushing again, she looked down as he set her lightly on the sand.
“All right then, Miss Tresilian?” he asked, stepping back a pace.
“Yes, thank you.” Sophie wondered if she still sounded breathless. His body was mere inches from hers: lean and hard-muscled—sparer than those of her brothers’, whose frames tended to the compact, even solid. Mr. Pendarvis was built more like her cousin James, though James had never affected her in this way, never set every cell in her body tingling with this heightened awareness. Nor had any other man of her acquaintance, however attractive, and despite her youth, Sophie had experienced her share of girlish infatuations. This was something else entirely: headier, and subtly dangerous.
And she was being exceedingly foolish, almost as silly as those girls who’d made eyes at Mr. Pendarvis at his great-uncle’s funeral, though she had some consolation in knowing she wasn’t
They reached the margin of the beach, stony and covered with marram grass, then yielding to softer, finer sand after the first few yards. Catching the salty scent of the wind off the sea, Tregony tossed his head and snorted with pleasure, while Gorlois flicked his ears and stood staring at the great expanse of bounding water in the distance.
Mr. Pendarvis stroked his horse’s neck as they ventured onto the sand. “I’ll wager it’s been a while since he’s been near the sea. I hope it doesn’t make him nervous.”
“Oh, I daresay he’ll remember, by and by,” Sophie assured him. “Especially if you start riding him here more often. Our horses all love the beach.”
She glanced at the wide stretch of pale gold sand now before them, and bit back the temptation to say “Race you,” as she might have to one of her brothers. “Shall we canter?”
Mr. Pendarvis was willing and they urged their horses forward to a brisker pace, speeding up to a canter once they reached the water’s edge. And suddenly, without a word exchanged between them, they were racing, breaking into a full gallop, side by side along the shore. The stiff ocean breeze whistled in Sophie’s ears, stung the blood into her cheeks, as Tregony’s hooves thundered beneath her. Breathless and half laughing in sheer pleasure, she glanced at her companion and was surprised by a grin, wide, brilliant, and utterly unguarded, that transformed that too-serious face into something almost boyish—and devastatingly attractive.
It wasn’t just the race that had her short of breath now. Flushing, she concentrated on pulling ahead, but he kept pace with her, Gorlois matching Tregony stride for stride.
They pulled up at last, panting and laughing. And Mr. Pendarvis’s laughter was every bit as potent as his grin, Sophie discovered.
“I’d say we call that even, wouldn’t you, Miss Tresilian?” he remarked, patting Gorlois’s gleaming neck. The bay gelding snorted, his earlier misgivings about the water gone, clearly keen to go on racing.
“A draw, I confess it,” Sophie gasped, holding up a hand as Tregony sidled and danced beneath her. “Oh, dear—I think I’ve got a stitch in my side!”
“Then we’ll stop at once,” he said with instant solicitude. “Do you need some help down from the saddle?”
Sophie felt her heart give a curious sort of flutter that had nothing to do with the race they’d just run. She took an extra moment to reply, letting her breathlessness mask her confusion. “Thank you. I would be glad of some assistance.”
He swung down from the saddle—very smoothly, a part of her mind noted—and then came around to her side. Sophie slipped her leg from around the pommel, then turned to descend into his waiting arms.
His hands caught her about the waist and lifted her down as if she weighed nothing at all. Strong hands, with a firm grip; she felt their warmth even through his leather gauntlets and her woolen habit, and an answering warmth flooded through her from head to toe. Flushing again, she looked down as he set her lightly on the sand.
“All right then, Miss Tresilian?” he asked, stepping back a pace.
“Yes, thank you.” Sophie wondered if she still sounded breathless. His body was mere inches from hers: lean and hard-muscled—sparer than those of her brothers’, whose frames tended to the compact, even solid. Mr. Pendarvis was built more like her cousin James, though James had never affected her in this way, never set every cell in her body tingling with this heightened awareness. Nor had any other man of her acquaintance, however attractive, and despite her youth, Sophie had experienced her share of girlish infatuations. This was something else entirely: headier, and subtly dangerous.
And she was being exceedingly foolish, almost as silly as those girls who’d made eyes at Mr. Pendarvis at his great-uncle’s funeral, though she had some consolation in knowing she wasn’t
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