The American Bride (12 page)

At first Julian was stunned by the flight of the girl but his amazement quickly turned to anger. By the time he cleared the wall there was no evidence of the pair. Rider and horse had been swallowed up in the woods with no indication of their direction. From the high fields Julian knew the girl had access to limitless areas. He was furious that an unknown rider was on his property but having no idea which estate she had come from there was no way to intercept her. In exasperation he pushed his hair off his sweating forehead, slapping his riding crop viciously against his boot.

In near panic Cara rode through the woods, stopping only when she feared that she would do Gentian some damage. She sat atop the heaving horse listening for any signs of pursuit. With shaking hands she braided her hair and retied the headdress to cover it. Brushing the worst of the dirt from her skirts Cara tried to compose herself before she approached the stableyard. She knew she was still in imminent danger of discovery should Julian run into her at this juncture. Despite the minutes ticking away she waited until Gentian had rested before nudging the mare along the path to the stables.

"Not hurt, Miss?" Glum asked in concern, taking in Cara's dirt-streaked habit.

"No, it's worse," cried the flustered girl, leaping to the ground. "It's Lord Wilton. He - I mean," the governess stammered in confusion.

"I'll take care of Gentian. Off with ye."

Glum caught the reins thrust into his callused hands, then turned with the mare as Cara fled toward the Hall. Moving quickly to get the horse under cover, Glum assigned a boy to walk and groom the horse. He was back outside when the darkly scowling Lord Wilton returned. Julian flung himself from the horse turning toward the Hall. He hesitated, then stopped and hailed Glum who was leading the stallion toward the stables. "Have you seen any strangers hereabout?"

"No one's arrived at the Hall since you went off for your ride, Lord Wilton."

"It's a girl I'm wondering about," Julian mentioned nonchalantly.

"One of the tenants' girls, milord?" Glum squinted into the sun then spat in the dust.

"No. It's a young gentlewoman with blazing red hair who rides like the wind. I could swear I've never seen her around here before. She was up riding in the high meadow and then she vanished."

"What kind of a horse be she riding?" Glum asked with apparent interest.

"I don't know. It was gray but I didn't get a very close look at it."

"Well, I can ask some of the boys." Glum's lackluster tone indicated the probable failure of such a plan.

"Do that," Julian commanded. Then in a more offhand tone of voice, he continued, "It's not important. I just thought it was passing strange finding an unknown girl on my land."

So that's the way of it, Glum thought staring with foreboding at Julian's disappearing back. No wonder Miss Farraday was in such a lather. Almost caught. The worst of it was that Wilton had failed to recognize the mare. With his love and appreciation of horses he was able to spot and identify most animals at a great distance. Glum had to admit that Miss Farraday made a breathtaking picture when she was astride a horse. He could understand why Wilton had had eyes for nothing but the girl.

Shaking his head Glum stomped toward the stables. "There's always trouble when the stallions are in rut," the headgroom prophesied.

Julian, unaware of Glum's dire predictions, sat long over his breakfast coffee contemplating the girl in the woods.

Even at a distance Julian had recognized that the girl was gentry. She was mounted on prime stock. The gray had taken the fences on delicate legs and its lines were good. Julian had taken that much in unconsciously. No tenant's daughter had a horse of that caliber. But it was her ability to ride, jumping sidesaddle by God, that labeled her as a member of his own class. He wondered what had made the girl bolt. Perhaps she was staying at one of the estates, wandered too far afield and then had been frightened when Julian approached.

Sipping at the cold coffee, Julian thought it might be a good idea to become reacquainted with some of his neighbors.

After all, now that he was planning to spend more time on the estate, Julian felt that it would be politic to visit some of the other landowners to exchange ideas. It would be splendid if he could locate other children the same age as Belin and Richard, he rationalized. Perhaps during the visits he would be able to smoke out the girl in the woods. He ran through the names of his neighbors trying to remember if any of them had older daughters or young wives. There was something about the red-haired horsewoman that struck him as familiar. He hadn't been close enough to observe her features but he had the distinct feeling that he had seen her somewhere before. She definitely owed him an apology for dashing off as she had, Julian muttered, eyes narrowed to angry slits. He would find that girl if he had to visit every estate in the county.

He slammed his fist onto the table setting the china to trembling. Why now, when he should be contemplating the coming joys of marital bliss did this girl have to turn up. Even the brief glimpse that he had of the beautiful wood sprite promised a fascination he was loath to ignore. At any rate it would do no harm to find the girl, if only to appease his curiosity.

"Can we, Miss Farraday?" Belin asked. "Just for today?"

"I'm sorry, Belin. I'm afraid I wasn't attending." Cara sat up straighter and tried to bring her mind back to the breakfast table conversation.

"I just wanted to know if we could read today instead of doing sums."

Belin's voice was exasperated as she repeated the question. "It's started in to rain and it's too gloomy to do sums."

"Admit it, Belin. Even if it was sunny you'd rather do anything than sums," was Richard's brotherly observation.

Cara looked outside, surprised that the day had turned so rainy. It made a perfect compliment to her mood that fluctuated between fear of discovery and general gloom.

"Can we, Miss Farraday?"

"I'm sorry, Belin," Cara apologized again to the child. "I think reading would be a grand idea. In fact if you wanted to pick out a book I'm sure that Richard would read it to you."

"She always picks out baby books," Richard complained.

"I do not!"

"You do so!"

Cara settled the argument by picking out a book of Viking adventures with enough battles to keep Richard contented and yet with simple enough stories to entertain Belin. Once the children became engrossed in the book, Cara slumped in dejection on the window seat. She stared out the rain-spattered glass her mind whirling over the events of her morning ride.

Since she hadn't been summoned by Julian it was apparent that he had not recognized her in the woods.

Her body trembled at the near discovery. She could just imagine his glowering looks as he demanded an explanation. With unrelenting determination Julian would have the story of her deception before he was done interrogating her. Her mind conjured up a vision of the angry interview and she winced at the all too real possibility.

Worst of all Julian would once again have found her in another untenable position, disheveled, sweaty and reeking of horse. Cara didn't know why that should bother her so. But she did know, she admitted, staring with unseeing eyes at the rain-drenched world beyond the schoolroom. She was in love with Julian.

"It's just not possible," Cara muttered under her breath.

She couldn't be in love with Julian; she didn't even like him. He was arrogant, autocratic, stubborn and a bully. She was offended by his easy morals and furious at his neglect of the children. Yet every time she encountered him she found herself drawn to the magnetism of his personality. I must have some character weakness, Cara fumed bitterly. After all there was nothing laudable about her husband.

Unfortunately her eyes remembered how Julian's tousled black hair fell across his forehead just waiting for a soft hand to brush it back. Her lips remembered the soft firmness of Julian's mouth pressed against her own, calling forth an unknown response. Her body remembered the rippling strength of his body as his lean length supported her quivering weight. Cara stifled a groan, trying to banish her memories.

In her heart she knew that it was dangerous to remain at Weathersfield. Not only did she have the fear of discovery to contend with but also her situation was no longer safe with Edward Tallworth still in residence. After Tallworth's aborted assault in the garden she had taken particular care to avoid him. Whenever she had crossed his path, she felt his eyes burning into her. His hawklike observation warned his prey that he was just biding his time.

Yet despite all the dangers she couldn't leave. The children needed her. Cara had to admit that she had come to love them dearly. Belin was thriving under her care but she needed more time with Richard. She had won his confidence and she couldn't afford to have any changes shake the foundation of that trust. Her sudden disappearance would undo all the progress the boy had made. And he had made progress.

Both Cara and Glum had hoped that Richard would lose his fear of horses by being around the gentle little colt. But neither of them had expected the experiment to work so well. After two days Richard was running to fetch the brushes and extra feed that had been mysteriously left in other parts of the stable. Hurrying back and forth amid the normal activity of the yard the boy seemed unaffected by the presence of the other horses. On the third day Cara stumbled on her way to the box.

"Are you all right, Miss Farraday?" Richard's voice was filled with concern as he bent over the recumbent form of his governess.

"Fine, Richard. At least, I think so."

Cara stood up, shaking out her dusty skirts and brushing at the dirt on her hands. The boy stood quietly while she examined her booted foot, testing it on the oak flooring.

"There. I'm sure my ankle is perfectly sound," Cara announced staggering a little as she hobbled toward the last stall. "Perhaps if I sat down a moment. I still feel a little shaky."

The boy fluttered around her as she sat on a bale of hay, her foot propped up on a grain barrel. He was unaware of the calculating look his governess cast him under her fringe of lashes.

"Can I get you anything, Miss Farraday?"

"I don't think so, Richard. I just need a moment to catch my breath."

"You took quite a tumble. I think you ought to just sit there and rest. I could groom the colt today," Richard offered.

"I'm sure I will be fine. Besides I would be shirking my duties." Cara forced a note of wistfulness into her voice. "It's very hard work for a young lad."

"I'd try ever so hard. I've been watching you every day." Richard was desperate to convince his governess. "You could follow everything and tell me if I forget anything."

"Yes, I can see how that might work," she agreed.

In recompense for Richard's labor Cara suggested that he might like to name the colt. It had taken several days of frowning concentration before the boy was contented with a name.

"Do you think Loki would be a suitable name?" Richard asked. He rushed on before Cara could offer an opinion. "I got the idea when you were reading that Norse book. It's the name of the god of mischief. I thought it might be a good name yesterday when he butted you in the stomach."

"I see nothing funny about that incident, you loathsome child. A true gentleman would refrain from mentioning it." Cara failed to control the twitching of her lips and joined Richard as he burst into laughter.

So Loki had been named and from then on Richard took over the grooming chores while Cara lounged in the doorway or wandered through the stables talking to the other horses. After discussing possible choices she and Glum had picked out a sweet-tempered hunter for Richard's first ride. With any luck the boy could be coaxed to accompany Cara at the end of the week.

But with a sinking heart Cara acknowledged that if she gained the time to help Richard she might yet lose everything.

Chapter Seven

Laying the book down on the bench, Cara stretched her arms up over her head, easing the strain of muscles across her shoulders. She yawned, letting her eyes roam over the garden. Having eaten more than usual at lunch she was paying the price with a sluggishness that seeped into her bones. Her eyes followed the path of a bee, dipping from flower to flower but even that activity failed to rouse her out of the sun-induced lethargy into which she had fallen. Sighing she leaned against the cool marble back of the bench.

After only two weeks at Weathersfield, she felt as though she had spent a lifetime in its sheltered atmosphere. It was true that many of her days were fraught with indecision and the possible danger of exposure. On the whole, however, she had never felt as contented as she did now. For months in America and then on the voyage across the Atlantic she had been distraught by the death of her father and by the incredibility of her marriage to Julian. But looking back to her first days at the Hall she could see that she had felt welcome from the beginning. Her days had been full of the children and then more and more her thoughts had been taken up with Julian.

Cara's eyes flew open as a shiver coursed through her body.

Just thinking about the man could disorient her. Cara had admitted that she loved him but the passion engendered by his presence in her thoughts or in person were a source of confusion. Generally ruled by her common sense, the loss of control when confronted by Julian was a new and uncomfortable sensation. She remembered how she had viewed her friends who were in the early stages of a love affair. Since she had met Julian her emotions had been turned upside down, leaving her feeling graceless and schoolgirlish. Cara wished for the simpler emotion of anger that Julian had filled her with instead of the breathless, heart-stopping whirl she had been in of late.

Glancing at the watch pinned to her bodice she cocked her head, listening for the sounds of the children. She picked up the poetry book and stuffed it into the capacious pockets of her blue gabardine dress. Smoothing her scarf, she checked for stray strands of hair and finding some, tucked them under its edge. Then strolling through the garden she headed for the wilder woods around the lake.