Catch Me If You Can by Juliette Cosway Read Free Book Online

a contemporary map of some detail.
    He smiled. She’d tried to trick him into laughing at her plans so she could prove him wrong. Minx. “You seem well prepared and you are obviously set on the undertaking. What use would you have for my opinion?”
    He settled back against the desk, folding his arms.
    She looked a little disappointed. It wasn’t the reply she’d hoped for, quite obviously.
    “Oh, I thought you might try to talk me out of it,” she replied wistfully.
    “I suspect it would do me no good if I did try,” he replied. What a spark she was, hoping to provoke him with her wayward plans. “Anyway, you forget, I myself come from the land of the pioneer. It’s not unusual to attempt such a feat.” 
    Her shoulders rose in defiance, as if his comment were some sort of challenge. “Do you think I would crumple and give in at the first sign of danger or hardship?” 
    “No.” It was all too obvious she had it in her to take on the rather ridiculous journey. She was headstrong and wayward. The woman needed protection – perhaps more protection than her father could give her on such an undertaking. An unfamiliar need came over him, an urge to take the reckless young woman in hand.
    “Good,” she retorted, and walked back to the doorway.
    He watched as she turned back.
    “Well, come on then,” she added. “Let’s ride.”
    The challenge in her expression aroused him. “I’ll allow you a head start,” he parried.
    Delight shone in her eyes. Laughing, she set off at a pace. “Catch me if you can!”
    Rivers didn’t move for several long moments, for he was musing on what he would like to do with her when he did catch her – and it didn’t involve letting her go.
     
    * * *
     
    Rivers looked even more handsome on the large black stallion she’d chosen for him. She took sidelong glances, admiring the nonchalant elegance he carried from the tip of his polished riding boots, up through the tight riding breeches, to the draped white shirt loosely laced across his collarbone. The day was bright and warm and neither of them donned coats for the ride. They cantered across the landscape, he close at her side, watching her from under hooded eyes.
    She drew up her chestnut mount, Clancy, at the crest of a hill, turning to Rivers as he moved alongside her. His shirt was flying free from his breeches, caught by the wind and billowing out behind him. The hard line of his body etched against the draped cotton, making her stare.
    “Over there, the majority of the estate land extends to the east,” she said, her breath catching, hair flying in the wind. “Fossett, the nearest village, you can see it from here.” She rose up to stand in her stirrups and pointed toward the cluster of houses and a rising spire to their right. When she turned back she noticed he was observing the way she moved.
    He looked away. “And this land to the west?”  
    “That is Lord Brooks’ land. He’s our closest neighbor. His land borders the Craven estate for many miles.” She observed him while he was absorbed in determining the different uses and layouts of the land. “Is it different in California?”
    He guided his mount closer to her side. “Yes and no. There is a similarity to the estate and the surrounding area. Generally the landscape there is more dramatic. There is comfort in the curve of the hills here, and the way the towns nestle in the shelter given by them. In California the expanses are wider, the landscape more dramatic. It is a place of extremes. The highest mountains, the deepest valleys, deserts and fertile plains.” 
    She listened avidly.
    He went on to describe the agriculture and the plant life. He chose tactile, vivid, words – words she savored.
    “I sense you miss the place?” She sought a way to draw this mysterious man out, hoping to discover more about him. Her father had hinted at some impropriety, much as Frieda had, but declined to give her details when she asked. Now her curiosity was