Candlelight Wish by Janice Bennett Read Free Book Online Page A

least wanted, the very first person I encounter upon my arrival in London.”
    He had been watching her, his expression changing from surprised to intrigued. “That does seem rather unfair,” he said with a gravity that caused him a noticeable effort.
    “Unfair? Unfair? It is monstrous! Please tell me you were only visiting in that house next door to my godmother’s!” she implored.
    “I regret to be forced to disoblige you, Miss Caldicot. That is something I cannot do.”
    “You-you live there?”
    He inclined his head, his smile becoming more pronounced. “I fear I do.”
    A vexed exclamation escaped her. Her hands clenched and for a long moment she glared at him. Then she turned on her heel and stormed into the house. From behind her she could hear a deep, rumbling chuckle.
    And what was worse, he still had the most heart-melting smile she had ever encountered.

Chapter Three
     
    A laugh of sheer joy welled in Phoebe as she drew in a deep, aching breath of the chill morning air. Freedom. A chance to work out the lingering anger from the evening before. A chance to rediscover some measure of peace, which she had not experienced for so very long. Here she might be riding across the countryside, riding to the wind, rather than following the circuit of Hyde Park. And it was vastly satisfying to know she had been correct in what she had told her pupils, that few people really did come here at the unconscionable hour of seven in the morning so early in the Season. So far she had passed three grooms exercising their employers’ cattle. No one else. Not one other single solitary soul. After five years in the cramped quarters of the Misses Crippenham’s Academy, her country-bred soul relished the solitude.
    And at the moment, solitude was just as well. She’d come to try out the paces of the mare provided for her by Lady Xanthe and a rare handful the animal proved to be. No dainty lady’s mount, this. Xanthe, as always, knew what suited her best. Phoebe had been practically raised in a saddle. The horse stood nearly seventeen hands at the withers with a fine sloping shoulder and powerful hindquarters. Her coat gleamed a satiny black. A devil mount, had warned Limmer, Lady Xanthe’s groom but Phoebe disagreed. Macha, Xanthe had named the mare, after an Irish goddess of war and that suited her to perfection. Not vile tempered in the least but strong-hearted and high spirited.
    Phoebe touched lightly on the reins, catching the arrogant head that tossed to have its own way. They would come to an understanding soon enough, she knew. At the moment though, after so many years of riding nothing but the staid, suitable mounts available at the Academy, she delighted in the subtle shifting of power between herself and the willful mare. Nothing, she reflected, could ruin this morning.
    The head dropped straight down and the back arched as the animal bounded in a series of crow hops. Playful, Phoebe noted as she spurred the mare forward to put an end to these tricks. No intention to harm but more to test and challenge—and let off excess energy. They both fretted for exercise.
    Phoebe spared her attention from her fractious mount and glanced about. She could see no one except the stoic Limmer who rode several lengths behind, his calculating eye watching them with grudging respect. “I’m going to give Macha her head,” Phoebe called over her shoulder.
    The wiry little man frowned, an occupation that seemed to involve his entire weathered countenance. He too cast a rapid glance about then pursed his thin lips. “Just a short way, miss. You don’t want her to go thinking she can make a race of it every time she comes here. Wouldn’t do at all.”
    “Only when we’re alone,” Phoebe promised and eased her hold.
    At once the black muzzle thrust forward and through her touch on the reins Phoebe felt Macha grasp the bit between her teeth. The strides lengthened with fluid grace, and a thrill of pure joy rushed through Phoebe as