White Horses. Joan Wolf

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      Nine

      When Gabrielle awoke the following morning Leo was still asleep. She watched him for a minute without moving.

      His hair was tangled on the pillow, his lashes lay still on his cheeks. He looked like a god strayed from the shores of ancient Greece, she thought. She had a sudden impulse to bend over him and kiss him awake, an impulse that immediately horrified her.

      Mon Dieu! What am I thinking? I cannot become attracted to this man. That would put us in a horribly awkward position.

      As if he had heard her thought, his eyes opened. She looked into their aquamarine depths and said briskly, “Wake up, sleepyhead. It’s time to go to work.”

      He blinked, as if trying to place her.

      “It’s Gabrielle,” she said. “You’re with the circus.”

      He looked annoyed and his serene godlike aspect faded. “I know who you are,” he said.

      “For a moment there you looked unsure.”

      His eyes glittered but he didn’t reply. After a moment’s silence he said, “Are you going to get up?”

      “Yes. And I am going to get dressed. Gather your clothes together and turn your back.”

      She pushed the covers back and got out of bed, carefully pulling her nightgown down over her legs.

      “Do you know, Gabrielle, I am getting rather tired of you issuing orders to me.” His tone was pleasant, but she detected anger behind the words.

      She turned to look at him in surprise. “How will you know what to do if I don’t tell you?” she asked innocently.

      He was sitting up in bed, the covers pulled to his waist. The open neck of his nightshirt showed his strong throat and chest. She looked at them, then quickly pulled her eyes away.

      He said, “I am perfectly capable of figuring things out for myself.”

      “If I had joined you in the army, I would expect you to tell me what to do,” she said reasonably. “You don’t know anything about the circus. I am only trying to keep you from making a mistake. The last thing we need is someone suspecting that you are an English officer.”

      He folded his lips into a frown but didn’t reply.

      “Bon,” she said, pleased that she had put him in his place. “Now can we get dressed?”

      People started arriving for the circus at eleven o’clock the following morning. Gabrielle had put Leo in charge of selling tickets, and he stood beside the wagon emblazoned with the circus name and collected money and handed out tickets.

      The circus-goers were mainly families: mother, father and children. They looked like shopkeepers from the city and local farmers—solid, middle-class folk, the sort that Leo scarcely ever noticed so far were they below his own high head.

      It was almost show time when Leo sold a ticket to an army lieutenant. He got a little shock when he saw the uniform but kept his face expressionless. “Come to enjoy some fun, Lieutenant?”

      “I have come to see your circus,” the lieutenant said. He looked closely at Leo. “You have an accent, monsieur. Are you English?”

      Damn, Leo thought. I should have kept my mouth shut. “My wife’s family owns this circus,” he said, as genially as he could.

      The lieutenant nodded, took his ticket and moved toward the tent.

      There’s nothing to worry about, Leo told himself. The man has just come to see a circus.

      He waited at the wagon until he heard the band strike up and then he locked the ticket money in the wagon and moved toward the tent. He went around to the performer’s entrance and outside he found Gabrielle with her five white Arabians. Their flowing manes were brushed and they wore a golden plume on their heads. They wore no other equipment and each was being held by a rope looped loosely around his neck. Gabrielle herself was dressed in male hunting attire: red coat, breeches and high boots. Her hair was pulled high СКАЧАТЬ