Waking Up With a Rake by Connie Mason, Mia Marlowe Read Free Book Online Page B

of so many debutants but the full-throated sound of a thoroughly pleased woman. Why had he ever thought her the least girlish?
    “Even aside, we beat the two of you up this hill, didn’t we, Molly?”
    She leaned forward to stroke the mare’s neck and gave Rhys a quick inadvertent peek down the front of her riding habit. Her breasts were small but perfect. At every step, Olivia was a surprise to him. He was usually drawn to more buxom women, but his body quickened readily enough to her slender figure.
    The mare whickered softly in response to Olivia’s praise and bobbed its head as if in agreement with Rhys’s unspoken assessment of its mistress.
    “You did have a head start,” he pointed out.
    Her gaze flicked back toward the estate’s manor. The groom was only just now trotting out of the stable yard. If Thatcher intended to join them on their ride to act as a chaperone of sorts, at least he seemed intent on giving them a sense of privacy.
    “Are you going to quibble over details, Rhys, or are you game for a jump or two?” she asked, her pixyish face alight with mischief.
    Rhys swallowed back his surprise. He’d only heard of a handful of equestriennes who jumped while riding aside. “You don’t need to attempt it to impress me.”
    She laughed again. “There’s no attempting about it. Molly and I can clear yonder hedgerow as easily as breathing. Or is jumping too unladylike an activity for the Duke of Clarence’s liking?”
    “If I said it was, would it dissuade you?”
    “Not in the slightest.” She flashed an impish grin and spurred the mare into a spirited canter toward the waist-high hedge.
    “This girl doesn’t need me to ruin her,” Rhys muttered. None of his carefully gathered intelligence about Olivia Symon had revealed this daredevil side of her personality. “She’s determined to do it herself.”
    Olivia and Molly hurtled toward the hedgerow, gathering speed. At the last possible moment, the mare launched herself skyward, and horse and rider vaulted over the obstacle, clearing it with plenty of room to spare.
    But when they landed on the other side, the horse reared suddenly, whinnying in pain. Head down, she struck out her hind hooves.
    Rhys watched in helpless horror as the saddle slid to one side. Most riders would have been unhorsed on the spot, but Olivia kicked her foot free of the slipper stirrup as the saddle crashed to the ground. The mare trampled it, adding the final touch to her panic. Then she bolted with Olivia clinging to her back, skirts and reins flying, her fingers digging into Molly’s mane.
    “Hold on!” Rhys shouted, his heart pounding in his throat.
    He spurred Duncan into a gallop across the frost-crisped meadow. They cleared the hedgerow without breaking rhythm, gaining on the runaway mare with each pounding stride.
    Olivia clung to the mare’s back, tight as a tick, and though she couldn’t check Molly’s headlong flight, she seemed determined not to tumble off. Since the meadow was dotted with stones that worked their way up through the soil each spring, a fall at this speed was likely to result in broken bones at the very least. Eventually, Molly would tire if Olivia could just hold on.
    But when Rhys looked ahead, he saw something to which the mare seemed oblivious. Olivia was unlikely to be able to see it either since her cheek was plastered against the horse’s neck. A steep ravine opened before them.
    Rhys’s gut churned. He laid his crop on Duncan’s flanks, and the horse poured on more speed. Yard by yard, the distance between Rhys and Olivia shortened until he was close enough to hear her pleading with the mare to stop.
    She must have known the ravine was there, yawning its scree-strewn mouth. There was no time for Rhys to snatch Molly’s trailing reins. In order to free his hands, he was forced to drop his as well.
    Guiding the gelding with his knees and will alone, Rhys leaned over. He grabbed Olivia around the waist and hauled her off the