Free The Mad Lord's Daughter by Jane Goodger Page B

a bead of water on his cold-flushed cheek, see the dark shadow of his beard, even though it appeared he’d already shaved that day, see that his gray eyes were rimmed with the darkest blue. And that feeling was back full force, a feeling that made her wonder what it would be like to press her lips against his. Not one month ago, such a thought would have made her wrinkle her nose in distaste. Put her mouth against a man’s? Never. But for some reason, the need to press against John, to kiss him, was nearly overwhelming.
    John pushed her gently away, his smile appearing rather strained. His laughing eyes were shuttered, his jaw tight. Melissa felt unaccountably foolish. She was not good at hiding her feelings, as she’d never had to practice such subtle deceit before. It was possible John was quite aware of what she’d been thinking—and he very clearly didn’t like it.
    “Did I hurt you with the snowball? Is that why you are angry?” she asked, praying he would allow her to pretend ignorance.
    His cautious look was immediately replaced by one of his smiles. “Yes, as a matter of fact, you did. Wounded me terribly. But I suppose falling headlong into the snow and ruining your dress is enough recompense.”
    A whinny from the stables drew Melissa’s attention. “Could you show me the horses?”
    “I suppose you cannot ride?”
    “I did have a hobby horse when I was a girl and rode her like blazes. I was a princess saving an errant knight.”
    That made him laugh, and Melissa relaxed slightly. “I do believe it’s the other way ’round, my dear.”
    “Not in my world. However, the thought of riding a real horse rather terrifies me, if I must be perfectly honest.”
    “You must.”
    She shot him a withering look. “They are so monstrously big.”
    They stepped into the gloom of the stables, and Melissa breathed in air laden with hay, wood, leather, and horse manure. It should have been an unfortunate combination, but Melissa found the aroma not at all offensive. It was markedly warmer in the stable, and the snow on her coat immediately began melting.
    “My goodness, how many horses do you have?” she asked, wandering down the middle of the stone floor, far from the reach of any horse that might want to attack.
    “We’ve twelve here, including the carriage horses, and a few others at my father’s estate near Cambridge. You shouldn’t be afraid of horses, you know. They’re rather like big dogs.”
    “I’m afraid of dogs, too,” she said, backing away from one stall where a black horse with a white mark on its forehead leaned out.
    John immediately went over to the beast, murmuring softly, then rubbed its head. The horse seemed to like the attention, and Melissa stepped a bit closer. “Sir Jake is like a kitten,” he said, taking something out of his pocket and feeding it to the animal.
    “I thought you said horses were like big dogs,” Melissa said, keeping her eye on the horse in case it decided to burst through its stall.
    “All right then, in an effort not to confuse you, I’ll say Sir Jake is like a puppy. All love and gentleness. Come here, I’ll show you.”
    Melissa stood, eyes wide, staring at the horse, which seemed completely uninterested in her presence.
    “I would never let you approach a horse I didn’t think was completely trustworthy. There are some who are a bit more ill-mannered that I would not allow you to pet, but . . .”
    “Pet? You want me to touch it?”
    To her horror, John gave the horse a hug. “You’ve wounded his heart irreparably,” he said. “Good ol’ Sir Jake is very sensitive. Now, come here. Don’t be such a coward.”
    Melissa marched over to him, her arms crossed.
    “Take off those silly mittens and hold out your hand like this,” he said, demonstrating by holding his hand, palm up, completely flat. It was said as if this were a simple request. Well, if he was not going to take great issue with it, she wouldn’t either. She took one mitten off and