A Perilous Attraction. Patricia Frances Rowell

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СКАЧАТЬ Kate, but also a strong intuition, I should think. But there does not seem to be anyone here.”

      Catherine nodded, gratified by his seriousness. Her uncle had always declared her notions to be foolish past permission. Together they entered the largest door opening onto the yard. The hall smelled musty, but not damp. As they wandered from room to room through lopsided doors and up and down odd little staircases, Catherine’s enthusiasm for the house increased.

      “This is a delightful place! One never knows what lies beyond the next door. Children will love it.”

      “Very well, then. If you like it, I shall complete the sale.”

      “You believe it can be restored?”

      Caldbeck examined the plaster near him. “Yes, it’s sound enough. We can begin with the newer portions and leave the very old ones to the end.” He pushed open a door and stopped in the doorway. “That must certainly be removed. It’s a wonder the place has not burned to the ground.”

      Catherine squeezed past him to look and giggled. Hay filled the room. “Oh, my. Someone has used it as a hay barn.” She kicked at a pile of hay. “But not recently, I think.”

      “No, the hay is old.” Caldbeck came up behind her and circled her waist with his arms. “It is dry, however.”

      He bent to kiss the back of her neck. A tiny quiver ran through Catherine. The familiar melting sensation started in her stomach as he touched his tongue to her ear. His hands slipped, one upward and one downward, cupping her breast and stroking her belly. Catherine relaxed against him.

      Just as Caldbeck turned her toward him, they heard a rustle in the hay, and something darted across Catherine’s foot. She shrieked. Caldbeck tightened his hold and swung her quickly away from the pile of hay.

      “There are rats!” She shrunk back against him.

      Caldbeck ushered her toward the door. This time she was certain he sighed. “Yes,” he agreed, “there are rats.”

      Riding homeward, Catherine discoursed on her plans for the orphanage. Her husband listened indulgently, occasionally offering a comment or suggestion. She rattled on about tutors and a matron and a manager for the farm. She describe her vision for the interior. She debated what livestock would be suitable and how the children should be dressed. “And we shall call it the Buck Orphan Asylum.”

      “I believe,” his lordship interjected, “that the Lady Caldbeck Home for Orphans would be more appropriate.”

      “Do you think so? I would love that!” Catherine launched anew into her vision for her charges.

      At last the earl threw up an arresting hand. “Enough. I can see that you are going to bankrupt me in a twelve-month.”

      Catherine looked quickly to see if he were in earnest. Of course, she could not tell. Annoyed by that fact, she looked at him archly. “Worrying about your investment, my lord?”

      “Not yet.”

      “Very good, then. I shall race you back to the stable.”

      Without further warning she kicked her mount and tore away at a gallop. She could hear the thunder of hooves behind her as the gray responded to her challenge. Laughing, she leaned into the wind and urged the hunter on. The stable could be seen across a gentle hill, and she made for it, easily clearing several dry-stone walls as she came to them.

      Her mare came from fine stock, but the earl’s stallion was both larger and stronger. Inexorably the gray head began to pull alongside her. As she coaxed the chestnut to greater speed, she realized that it was Caldbeck’s superior knowledge of the terrain that was going to bring about her certain defeat. He was veering off to the right.

      Seeking the reason, Catherine spied, hidden in a fold of the land, a small watercourse with a low stone wall on the other side. She would have to turn to the right, also, and that would throw her far behind her husband. She considered her options.

      If she followed the earl and avoided the barrier, she would never catch the faster horse. The ravine, however, extended too far for an easy jump, and the wall on the other side might conceal a yet unseen hazard. It was a dangerous obstacle. Apparently, Caldbeck did not want to make the attempt, and he knew the land. Or perhaps he thought that she could not manage it and thus led her away.

      Suddenly Catherine fervently wanted to win.

      She did not want to lose to this icy, enigmatic man who had taken control of her life. She eyed the ravine, gauged the narrowest spot and put the hunter straight at it.

      The hunter was a good horse. With a mighty lunge she sailed over the ravine and cleared the wall, her hind hoof just clipping the stones. As the chestnut landed on the rough ground, her speed carried her too far forward, and she broke stride to regain her balance. The change of rhythm, added to the momentum of the leap, jarred Catherine’s knee free of the saddle, and she parted company with her mount.

      She fell hard. The breath knocked out of her, she sat up gasping like a landed fish, her skirts around her waist. She vaguely heard pounding hooves coming toward her. Caldbeck had come around the end of the ravine and had his horse at a dead run. He pulled in a few feet from her, vaulted out of the saddle before his mount had stopped moving, and ran to where she sat.

      “Kate! Are you hurt?” For once she could actually hear urgency in his voice.

      “N-no. I’m fine. I think.” She became able to breathe again. “‘No fence you can’t get over with a fall’,” she quoted, trying to grin carelessly. She looked up into her husband’s face. He did not wear a comforting expression, and she hastily looked elsewhere. The small tingle of fear returned as he looked coldly down at her. The fall had shaken her worse than she wanted to admit, and she didn’t feel up to bravado.

      Caldbeck pulled her to her feet and picked up her hat. He then silently examined her horse and led it back to where she stood. He did not give her the reins, but stood watching her for a moment. Finally, he spoke. Quietly.

      “If you ever overface your horse like that again, I assure you that it will be the last time you ever see her.”

      Even spoken softly, the words hit Catherine in the face like a freezing wind.

      “How—how dare you!” She grabbed angrily for the reins. Caldbeck calmly moved them out of her reach.

      “I mean it, Kate. You will not endanger yourself and your mount in that way again.” He handed her the reins and, putting his firm hands on her waist, tossed her up. She turned the chestnut and rode to the stables in haughty silence.

      The knowledge that she was absolutely in the wrong did nothing to ameliorate Catherine’s anger. On the contrary. Just because she had acted imprudently, perhaps—well, perhaps rashly even…and, yes, possibly irresponsibly—he had no right to threaten her. Take her horse away, indeed! Treating her like a child! Just because she had agreed to marry him did not make him her lord and master. Never mind the law.

      Never mind that he was right.

      She plunked down in the chair and attacked the implements on her desk. Arrogant bore! Scolding her! A half-written letter she ripped into pieces, scattering them on the floor. Ordering her bath! Who did he think he was? She threw the pens into the pigeonhole and shoved the wax jack against the wall with a resounding thump. СКАЧАТЬ