Read Online The Rebel by May McGoldrick - Free Book Online Page B

the sky, the dark green fields were empty.
    He remained still for a long moment, waiting
for any telltale sign of what he might have really seen. There was
nothing in the pastureland beneath the gardens and the stables, but
in a few moments, the sound of a horse drew his attention shortly
to one of the stable wings. As he peered through the darkness, he
thought he saw a horse being led into the paddock. As if prodded
into action, the shaggy gray dog stood up, sniffed the air for a
moment, and then trotted off unconcernedly in the direction of the
stables.
    Nicholas stood for a moment more. There was
no sound from the dog. His curiosity finally getting the best of
him, he moved out into the rain. By the time he passed by the
walled formal gardens that separated the house from the stables,
his shirt was soaked through and the rain was dripping from his
chin. He approached the stable cautiously, keeping to the
shadows.
    Peering over the stone wall at the line of
stalls opening onto the paddock, he listened for any sign of the
midnight rider.
    The rain was pouring off the roof into
puddles, but through it he thought he could make out the sound of a
horse’s hooves shuffling. The soft murmur of a woman’s voice. He
strained to hear. The words had the quality of one speaking
comfortingly to an animal. Nicholas hoisted himself over the wall
and moved along the stall doors. The top half of one door was
partially open.
    “ Oidhe maithe agut, mo bourine .”
    Jane. Whatever it was she said, the words
had been whispered in Gaelic, and Nicholas would have wagered that
they carried a far gentler meaning than the curses she’d hurled at
him this morning. He smiled in the darkness and waited, not wanting
to surprise her in the stall. She was quick with a knife, and
Nicholas didn’t trust his own actions if he were to corner her
again. He waited a moment more, expecting her to come through stall
door into the paddock, but there was no other sound.
    Finally, he pulled open the top half of the
door, clearing his throat as he did.
    The smell of the horse and wet leather
greeted him, and he could hear the mare shift in the darkness
inside, but there was no other sound. A blanket covered the back of
the steed.
    Speaking in a low voice to the animal, he
entered. He caressed the beast’s damp mane and glanced over the
high back to another door that led into the stables. Pushing past,
he made his way though the stall to an alley lit only by small
windows. Frowning, he turned and stroked the horse’s forelock.
    Even in the darkness of the narrow space, he
could see that everything was in order—all was where it belonged.
Except for the wet face of the horse, and the dripping saddle on
the door leading to the stables, it was as if Jane Purefoy had
never ridden in from a violent storm only moments earlier. The
routine was practiced and perfect.
    “So fast and so smart,” he whispered to the
mare before backing out of the stall the way he’d entered.
    Retracing his steps toward the house, he
moved through the rain with more speed than he’d employed when
heading down. He wanted a moment with her. Alone. As he strode
quickly up the hill, he realized that he was looking for a reason
to put himself again in her path.
    The door where he’d been standing before was
partially open, as he’d left it. Taking the stairs three at the
time, he hurried upward through the house. Whatever secret
passageway or hidden stairs she had taken to this floor and her
bedchamber, Nicholas was determined to head her off.
    He arrived at Jane’s chamber too late. A
line of candlelight showed beneath the door. Impulsively, he raised
a hand to knock, but as he did, the light was extinguished.
    Nicholas lowered his hand. His fist relaxed.
A smile broke across his face, and he shook his head as he started
down the hallway and toward his own room.
    He could wait. And tomorrow was certain to
be an interesting day.
     
    ***
     
    The bed remained untouched, though