Candlelight Wish by Janice Bennett Read Free Book Online Page B

the powerful muscles bunched beneath her. She leaned low, welcoming the air that whipped past, tangling the tendrils of hair that escaped from the modish riding hat provided by Xanthe that morning. Behind her she could hear the pounding hooves of Limmer’s mount falling back, unable to keep pace.
    Then another horseman, springing toward her from where the trees had half hidden him, joined the race. Admiration filled her for this gentleman’s mount, a red roan of passionate enthusiasm, determined not to be outdone. The rider veered to intercept her. For a few breathless moments they raced neck to neck then the roan pulled ahead as its rider flung himself forward to grasp Phoebe’s rein.
    Abruptly the roan broke pace, slowed to a trot then came to a halt. Macha spun about, throwing her head in protest, jerking off the man’s restraining hand. For a very long minute Phoebe had her hands full bringing the rebellious mare back under control.
    When at last her mount stood trembling beneath her, she glared at her accoster and recognition did nothing to soothe her rising temper. “You!” she breathed in pure loathing.
    “Good God,” said Sir Miles and he looked rather taken aback. A lopsided smile lit his face.
    That irritatingly attractive half smile of his. What business did a man like this have with a smile that could “plant her a leveler”, in the boxing cant favored by her pupils’ brothers? Her indignation fueled her anger and she exclaimed, “How dare you catch my rein!”
    Sir Miles’ eyebrows flew upward and a pair of brilliant hazel eyes glinted golden in sudden amusement. “I thought I had just performed a rescue,” he said. His deep voice held a note of something that might have been either humor or irritation or possibly both.
    “Rescue!” Phoebe sniffed. “I haven’t needed rescuing since I was four! You have quite ruined my gallop and as for my mare—”
    The gentleman sat back in his saddle, his amusement growing. “It is not considered proper to gallop in the park,” he pointed out on a note of apology. “I should have thought that was one of the points on which you had to instruct your pupils.”
    Her chin rose. “Indeed it is—or rather was, thanks to your interference. And it seems I know the rules more perfectly than do you. During the hour of the Promenade I should never dream to do so, of course. Or at a time when it is more populous than now. But it is quite permissible to exercise one’s horses at so early an hour as this. And,” she added pointedly, “without interference.”
    “ Sa sa ,” he murmured the fencer’s acknowledgement, his eyes gleaming. Then aloud he added, “I beg your pardon.”
    Phoebe eyed him with the resentment of one who suspected she was being laughed at. “And so you should. Do you make a habit of accosting anyone who indulges in a gallop?”
    The golden lights in his eyes danced. “I make it a habit of helping when someone appears to be in need of aid. It seems I misjudged the situation and must apologize.”
    Phoebe frowned, vexation replacing her anger. “Did I indeed seem out of control?”
    The gentleman hesitated. “Perhaps,” he said after a moment, “had there been the leisure to observe your handling of your mount I might have realized the truth. As it was, I noted only the breakneck pace and the absence of any attendant. I sprang to the wrong conclusion.”
    “Absence of—” Phoebe began only to break off. Then, “Oh, the devil!” she exclaimed, reverting to the language culled during her illicit childhood forays into the hunting field. She craned about in her saddle and Macha shifted beneath her. “Where has poor Limmer— Ah!” Even as she spoke she glimpsed his chestnut trotting toward them. “Poor man but he hadn’t a hope of keeping up.”
    “Then why did you careen off like that? It might indeed be permissible to gallop at such an hour but I assure you it is not permissible for a young lady to ride in the park without some