Joanna Fulford by His Lady of Castlemora Read Free Book Online Page A

about her. It was time to dent his self-assurance a little. Leaning forwards she urged the mare on.
    Ban realised then that his earlier alarm had been unfounded. Isabelle hadn’t lost control at all. Furthermore he realised he was being tested. The long greensward led into a copse and the narrow track meant he had to rein back, following in the mare’s wake. Ducking low branches and jinking round bends in the path, they sped on. The mare took a fallen log in her stride and fifty yards later leapt a dry streambed. The chestnut followed suit, never altering its stride. Then, as they neared the edge of the copse Ban saw it, a great tree uprooted by an ancient storm, the centre section of its trunk lying across the path. It was high and solid. Isabelle didn’t hesitate. Heart in mouth, he watched the mare gather herself and leap, soaring over the obstacle into the open land beyond.
    Setting his jaw, Ban collected the chestnut a little. The big horse stood back and took off, clearing the jump with ease and landing safe beyond it. Then for the first time Ban let the animal have its head. The chestnut responded, lengthening its stride. Almost two hands bigger than the mare and far more powerful, it steadily narrowed the gap until eventually they drew level again.
    Isabelle looked round, her face registering surprise for a moment. Then it was gone. She pulled up a little further on, he following suit. The blowing horses snorted, their great muscles trembling with effort and excitement. Ban, catching his own breath, was torn between reluctant amusement and annoyance for the anxiety she had caused him. That innocent expression didn’t deceive him for a moment. The vixen was thoroughly enjoying herself. Moreover, the pace had heightened the bloom on her cheeks and brought a lovely sparkle to the hazel eyes. Strands of hair, loosened from the sober braid, played around her face in an artless halo that enhanced the suggestion of innocence. It was also unwittingly alluring and conjured more erotic thoughts. Ever since the episode at the burn they’d continued to tease his imagination. With an effort he suppressed them and nodded towards the mare.
    ‘How do you like her?’
    ‘Very much.’ Isabelle patted the glossy neck. ‘It’s like riding the wind.’
    ‘In truth I thought you were. Do you always set such a pace?’
    Her face registered apparent concern. ‘Was it too much for you, my lord?’
    For a second or two he was speechless with incredulity. Then he fought a desire to laugh. If they’d been alone, he’d have exacted a penalty for barefaced cheek. It was a pleasing notion, but unfortunately they weren’t alone. Instead he asked, ‘Where did you learn to ride like that?’
    ‘From my father, and a groom called Hamish.’
    ‘They taught you well.’
    ‘So I think.’ She turned her attention to the chestnut. ‘That is a fine animal. What is he called?’
    ‘Firecrest.’
    ‘It suits him. Did you break him?’
    ‘I did, but he was a rare handful.’
    ‘I can believe it.’
    Before he could make any other observations their companions hove into sight, reining in nearby.
    ‘How do you like the mare, Sister?’
    ‘I like her well,’ replied Isabelle, ‘as I was just telling Lord Ban.’
    ‘She can certainly move, eh, Murdo?’ said Hugh.
    ‘Indeed she can,’ replied the other. ‘All the same, you took a dangerous risk, my lady.’
    His tone was perfectly level but she heard his unspoken disapproval. It irked her. He had no right to criticise; he had no rights over her at all, nor ever would have.
    ‘I did not ask you to follow, Murdo. You were always free to go around the obstacle if you felt it too dangerous a challenge.’
    Her brother drew in an audible breath and chuckled appreciatively. ‘Oho! A hit! Most definitely a hit.’
    The master-at-arms inclined his head. ‘My lady’s wit is sharp.’
    For a moment the dark gaze glinted as it met hers, his expression quite unmistakable. Isabelle lifted her