unacceptable.”
Lydia lowered her eyes to the floor, disliking the guilt that rose in her chest. She forced herself to nod in agreement, even as her heart willed him to remember that she had faithfully obeyed his orders in the drawing room.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“You should be. And you’ll be sorrier still when your punishments are dealt.”
Her gaze met his as a glimmer of fear sparked inside her. “What is he going to do?”
Kruin frowned, making him appear even more menacing. “It is not only Preston, Lydia. You have angered us all. If this is how you uphold your agreements, then perhaps you should not make them.”
“I’m sorry,” Lydia repeated. She hated the way his evident irritation caused her shame to deepen to unfathomable levels. “I have to…please, I’m not accustomed to this. You must give me some time.”
“You have time, Lydia. In fact, you have nothing but time. I suggest you use it wisely.”
He turned and went into the house. Lydia released her breath in a long sigh of relief, thinking that not even Preston could unnerve her to the degree that the enigmatic Kruin did.
She rose, the rocking chair squeaking on its rudders as if mimicking the noise of the crickets. She walked into the gardens as a cool breeze brushed against her skin. The grounds of the plantation were so vast that she wondered how long it would take to explore them all.
Lydia smiled ironically. As Kruin had pointed out, she had plenty of time. She walked along the pathway that led toward the swamps, swatting at several wayward mosquitoes.
As she approached one of the oak trees that spread like massive mushrooms over the grounds, she noticed a long, low building in the distance. Curious, she headed toward it and realized it was the plantation stables.
Did they actually keep horses here? A glimmer of happiness stirred inside Lydia at the thought. She quickened her pace, her skirt whipping around her bare legs as she hurried toward the stables.
She pulled open the large, wooden door and inhaled the musky odor of hay and horse-flesh. Dim light shone through cracks in the ceiling, painting the hay a glossy golden color. Half-a-dozen horses were locked into stalls, nickering and stamping their feet.
“Hey, boy.” Lydia smiled with delight as she approached one of the horses and held out her hand. He snuffled and pressed his warm, velvety nose into her palm.
“He’s usually not so friendly.”
Lydia turned and saw Gabriel emerge from a corner of the stable, a pitchfork in his hands. He stabbed it into a pile of hay and approached her. He was wearing torn jeans and an old T-shirt, his skin covered with dust and sweat. He moved with a stealthy kind of grace, like a sleek, muscular panther.
Lydia stepped closer to the stall, her hips encountering the hard slats of wood. “What’s his name?”
“Pirate.” He nodded toward the horse in the adjoining stall, a lovely white Arabian. “That’s Sugarfoot. Do you like horses?”
“I love them.” Lydia stroked her hand over Pirate’s nose. “When I was a girl, I had a horse named Butterfly. She was a palomino.” She glanced at him. “Do you ride?”
He nodded. “You can’t ride alone, but you can come with me some time.”
“Really?” She smiled. “Thank you.”
She returned her attention to the horse, fully aware of Gabriel watching her with an oddly intent look. She wondered if he knew what Preston had done with her in the drawing room, if he was aroused by the whole scenario. She rubbed her hand over Pirate’s warm, muscled neck.
“Why are you here?” she asked, her voice low.
“What do you mean?”
“With Preston. Why are you here?”
“For the same reason you are.”
Lydia shot him a startled look. “The same…?”
Gabriel moved closer to her, his green eyes shimmering in the waning light. “For the need to disappear.”
Lydia stared at him, her heart suddenly beating hard. “What…what did you do?” she
Lydia lowered her eyes to the floor, disliking the guilt that rose in her chest. She forced herself to nod in agreement, even as her heart willed him to remember that she had faithfully obeyed his orders in the drawing room.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“You should be. And you’ll be sorrier still when your punishments are dealt.”
Her gaze met his as a glimmer of fear sparked inside her. “What is he going to do?”
Kruin frowned, making him appear even more menacing. “It is not only Preston, Lydia. You have angered us all. If this is how you uphold your agreements, then perhaps you should not make them.”
“I’m sorry,” Lydia repeated. She hated the way his evident irritation caused her shame to deepen to unfathomable levels. “I have to…please, I’m not accustomed to this. You must give me some time.”
“You have time, Lydia. In fact, you have nothing but time. I suggest you use it wisely.”
He turned and went into the house. Lydia released her breath in a long sigh of relief, thinking that not even Preston could unnerve her to the degree that the enigmatic Kruin did.
She rose, the rocking chair squeaking on its rudders as if mimicking the noise of the crickets. She walked into the gardens as a cool breeze brushed against her skin. The grounds of the plantation were so vast that she wondered how long it would take to explore them all.
Lydia smiled ironically. As Kruin had pointed out, she had plenty of time. She walked along the pathway that led toward the swamps, swatting at several wayward mosquitoes.
As she approached one of the oak trees that spread like massive mushrooms over the grounds, she noticed a long, low building in the distance. Curious, she headed toward it and realized it was the plantation stables.
Did they actually keep horses here? A glimmer of happiness stirred inside Lydia at the thought. She quickened her pace, her skirt whipping around her bare legs as she hurried toward the stables.
She pulled open the large, wooden door and inhaled the musky odor of hay and horse-flesh. Dim light shone through cracks in the ceiling, painting the hay a glossy golden color. Half-a-dozen horses were locked into stalls, nickering and stamping their feet.
“Hey, boy.” Lydia smiled with delight as she approached one of the horses and held out her hand. He snuffled and pressed his warm, velvety nose into her palm.
“He’s usually not so friendly.”
Lydia turned and saw Gabriel emerge from a corner of the stable, a pitchfork in his hands. He stabbed it into a pile of hay and approached her. He was wearing torn jeans and an old T-shirt, his skin covered with dust and sweat. He moved with a stealthy kind of grace, like a sleek, muscular panther.
Lydia stepped closer to the stall, her hips encountering the hard slats of wood. “What’s his name?”
“Pirate.” He nodded toward the horse in the adjoining stall, a lovely white Arabian. “That’s Sugarfoot. Do you like horses?”
“I love them.” Lydia stroked her hand over Pirate’s nose. “When I was a girl, I had a horse named Butterfly. She was a palomino.” She glanced at him. “Do you ride?”
He nodded. “You can’t ride alone, but you can come with me some time.”
“Really?” She smiled. “Thank you.”
She returned her attention to the horse, fully aware of Gabriel watching her with an oddly intent look. She wondered if he knew what Preston had done with her in the drawing room, if he was aroused by the whole scenario. She rubbed her hand over Pirate’s warm, muscled neck.
“Why are you here?” she asked, her voice low.
“What do you mean?”
“With Preston. Why are you here?”
“For the same reason you are.”
Lydia shot him a startled look. “The same…?”
Gabriel moved closer to her, his green eyes shimmering in the waning light. “For the need to disappear.”
Lydia stared at him, her heart suddenly beating hard. “What…what did you do?” she
Similar Books
