“Of course,” Emm said with a sweet smile. He passed the reins of his horse to a stableboy, cupped his hands to make a cradle for her boot and tossed her lightly into the saddle.
Sultan, unused to the weight and balance of rider and sidesaddle, fidgeted and stamped restlessly. “You seat yourself like this, George. It’s actually much more balanced and comfortable than it looks. In riding, as in life, everything is balance.” Emm gathered the reins, hooked her right knee around the lower pommel and slid her other boot into the stirrup, and by the time Sultan decided he didn’t like the strange saddle or the strange rider, she was ready for him.
The horse reared up a little, snorting and plunging.
“Right, that’s it. Off, now!” Cal came forward, obviously intending to grab the bridle and force the head down. George and the stableboy did the same, but already disturbed, and with people coming from two directions, the horse danced nervously away, shying and tossing his head.
“Stay back, I can manage,” Emm called. “It’s just temper, isn’t it, you beautiful boy? Come on, then, let’s see how you can move.” And she urged the horse out of the stable yard and headed briskly down the drive. Sultan seemed a little unsure at first, champing restlessly at the bit and tossing his head in annoyance, but Emm had him firmly under control, and as she urged him faster, his gait lengthened first into a smooth canter, then a hard gallop. It was utterly exhilarating.
The thunder of hooves behind her warned her that her husband was in hot pursuit. She glanced back to see Roseand Lily following at some distance. Cal drew level with her and reached out for her bridle.
“Don’t you dare!” she cried, raising her whip at him in a teasing threat. “I’m having a glorious time. Race you to the gate!” And she urged Sultan faster.
They were neck and neck when they reached the gate. “What the devil do you think—” he began.
Emm wheeled her mount around. “Race you back!”
As they neared the stable yard, she reined in her horse and entered the yard at a demure trot. She leaned forward and patted the horse’s neck. “He’s an absolute beauty, George,” she said as George and the new stableboy came running toward them. “You did a marvelous job training him. He’s taken to the sidesaddle remarkably well.”
“Lord, but you can ride, Emm,” George gasped. “You beat him—Cal, I mean—even with that silly saddle. I didn’t think anyone could ride like that on one of those things.”
Emm laughed. “I had a head start. But I’m certain once you and Sultan are used to the sidesaddle, you’ll beat everyone to flinders. He moves like a dream.” She lifted her leg over the lower pommel and slid lightly to the ground.
Only to find her arm seized in a hard grip. “A word with you,madam.” Her husband tossed his reins to the stableboy and marched her into the stables. Rose slipped off her own horse and came forward, looking concerned. “Stay out of it, Rose,” he growled. Emm nodded to reassure the girl and sent a quick smile to Lily and George, who were watching wide-eyed.
He was in a fine old temper but Emm wasn’t the least bit worried. She was, however, interested to know why.
“You, out!” he snapped to a pair of gawking grooms. “Everyone outside until I say so.” The grooms fled.
He pushed her into a stall, shut the door and glared at her, his eyes sparking flinty gray. Another magnificent beast with a temper.
Chapter Sixteen
If this be not love, it is madness, and then it is pardonable.
—WILLIAM CONGREVE,THE OLD BACHELOR
“Now,madam, what do you have to say for yourself?”
She was breathless, her heart racing, and not just because of the ride. It was the way he was looking at her, so darkly furious. He’d never looked at her that way before. Not in daylight. He wasn’t the cool and controlled Lord Ashendon now.
Somehow, that look thrilled her.
She gave him a bright smile. “Wasn’t that utterly exhilarating? I haven’t ridden for years. That horse of George’s is wonderf—”
“Howdareyou ride off like that on an untrained horse!”
He really was rather rattled, she saw, and decided to push him a little further. “Oh, pooh, he took to it like a lamb!”
His jaw tightened and he took a step forward. “You weren’t to know that! It was a damned foolhardy act—”
“Nonsense. I’ve been riding since I could walk. I can tell when a horse is merely nervous and uncertain and when he’s—”
“You could have been thrown!”
“But I wasn’t,” she said calmly. “I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss.”
He gave her a goaded look. “You vowed to obey me,” he grated. He took another step forward. He was close enough for her to smell him now, the clean scent of linen, shavingsoap and a faint tang of fresh horse sweat. And man, angry aroused man.
