Precious Things by Kelly Doust Read Free Book Online Page A

other enjoyment in the long, lonely days. The physical exercise always calmed her and left her muscles burning with a deep, satisfying ache. Aimée wondered if this would be her last ride, if Bernard would forbid her as well . . . It was hard to believe she might never know the wind in her hair again. A surge of sudden anger lengthened her stride as she hurried across the grass.
    I might as well die , Aimée thought, blinking back hot tears. Never to ride again!
    At the stables, Aimée led Onyx out into the yard. Claiming Maman’s old saddle from the shed and a stool, Aimée made ready to climb atop the Friesian. Hearing the crunch of heavy footsteps on dry leaves, she swung around in surprise.
    â€˜Let me help you with that,’ murmured Gaston, materialising unexpectedly from the shadows.
    Does he watch me the way I watch him? Aimée wondered, her breath catching in her throat. Could that be possible?
    Cradling the arch of her long boot in interlaced fingers, Gaston hoisted her easily onto the back of the massive stallion. Aimée looked down at his dark curls. I could touch them , she thought, summoning all her efforts to stay her hand. Settled high above Gaston’s broad shoulders, she sat stiffly on Onyx’s majestic back. Her heart thundered away in her chest.
    â€˜It’s almost dark,’ Gaston said, testing the saddle straps around Onyx’s belly.
    â€˜I won’t be long,’ replied Aimée, short of breath.
    Perched on the side-saddle astride Onyx’s ebony back, Aimée watched Gaston check the lower pommel, making sure her leg was secured in place by the long leather strap. A curl of hair fell across his face, and his brow furrowed deeply in concentration. When his hand glanced against her leg, a jolt shot straight through her body. Gaston didn’t seem to notice. Checking the harness again, he pulled it tighter and looked up. For a moment, their eyes locked. Aimée felt the heat rising in her.
    With a curt nod of thanks, she coaxed Onyx into a trot. She was shaking. Looking back, she saw Gaston framed momentarily against the warm glow of the stables, then watched him turn away. She could hardly believe that after tomorrow she would barely see him, or only on visits home – how often would that be?
    With the chill wind whipping stray hairs across her face, she galloped towards the edge of the field, jumping the gate with ease. The fences were almost invisible in the encroaching twilight. Aimée pressed on towards the horizon. She thought about Gaston. Had she seemed rude or strange? Of course I must have , she told herself, feeling ill. I am like that with everyone . Soon Bernard will truly see the defective woman he has married.
    After a few minutes of hard riding, she slowed the stallion to a canter. When she reached the end of the field past the orchard, she pulled him to a stop. She turned to look at the dark, hulking shape of the château looming up on the hill behind her. Was Gaston there watching her, or had he returned indoors? She sucked at the air with ragged breaths, aware of the stand of trees, all too close, that signified the border of the estate. If she kept going, she could be gone – free at last. Aimée tensed, the reins tight in her gloved hands, poised to urge the horse forward, but then slumped in the saddle. How would she live? With no money, no skills, and no idea how to make her way in the world? With a sigh, she pulled on Onyx’s reins and pressed him back towards home.
    After removing her mud-splattered coat in the outer boot room, Aimée went upstairs to her dressing room. Faustine had left Maman’s snowy wedding dress, freshly laundered and pressed, hanging from the armoire, ready for tomorrow’s ceremony. The crisp damask skirt, loaned much volume by the layers of translucent voile petticoats, and the train of the dress fell to the floor. The bodice was a masterpiece of exquisite craftsmanship: diamond-shaped