Free Desire Becomes Her by Shirlee Busbee Page B

since the road doesn’t appear too muddy, would you mind if we picked up the pace?” She flashed a smile at her cousin. “Sophia and I love a good gallop.”
    “As you wish,” Luc replied, taken aback by the sheer charm of the smile she had given her cousin.
    The words had barely left his lips before Gillian and Sophia, using their heels, urged their mounts forward. In an instant the horses transitioned from a walk into a trot and seconds later settled into a smooth gallop. Luc and the groom had no choice but to harry after the two women as they sped down the country road.
    Both ladies were, Luc observed as he pounded down the road behind them, intrepid riders, easily controlling their horses and their bodies moving as one with their mounts. This was no race and after a few minutes Luc and the groom caught up with the galloping pair. Aware they were on an unfamiliar public road, the two women didn’t keep the horses at a gallop for long and eventually they brought their animals back to a trot and then a brisk walk.
    Her face glowing, tendrils of sable hair escaping from beneath her green hat with its saucy pheasant feather, Gillian glanced at her cousin and exclaimed, “Oh, Sophy, wasn’t that wonderful? I had forgotten the joy of a good horse beneath you.”
    Sophia, looking as delighted as Gillian, nodded. “It was indeed! Most exhilarating. There is nothing like a ride on an excellent horse to bring a smile to your face and ease your mind.” To Luc, Sophia said, “We are indebted to you, Mr. Joslyn. It was most kind and thoughtful of you to suggest a ride.”
    “It is my pleasure,” Luc replied, tearing his gaze from Gillian’s vivid face. Mon Dieu! The sprite was enchanting. Conniving, too, if his suspicions for her arrival at High Tower were correct. And dangerous, he reminded himself, thinking of her murdered husband.
    Irritated for reasons he couldn’t explain, he said briskly, “I am new to the neighborhood and your uncle would be able to show you more of the area, but if you like I can show you one or two of our more well-known landmarks.”
    Gillian said, “It is the ride we are enjoying, Mr. Joslyn—not so much the destination. Lead on, if you please.”
    They continued on the main road for some miles, Luc indicating the location of various places known to him as they rode. Turning off the public road a short while later and leaving it behind, Luc guided them across the undulating, green velvet chalkland spread out in all directions around them. As they rode, he said, “This is very different from fields and woodlands of Virginia, but it has a beauty that takes one’s breath away, oui? ”
    Gillian nodded absently, her gaze on the grazing fat, gray-and brown-faced Sussex sheep. She spied the occasional cow or horse; now and then smoke rising into the air from behind the low hills hinted at a dwelling, but none came into view.
    Topping a hill, Luc brought their horses to a halt. “The Cuckmere Valley,” he said simply.
    An exceptional view spread out in all directions and Gillian’s breath caught in pleasure. Like a lazy snake, the Cuckmere River flowed through the broad valley below them toward the sea; uneven banks of trees and shrubs strung here and there evidence of the narrow creeks that meandered through the rolling, green countryside. A glimpse of the glinting blue waters of the Channel could be seen through a break in the rising cliffs in the distance.
    Leaning toward Gillian, his lips inches from her ear, Luc pointed and said, “You see the opening in the distance with the sea beyond it? That wide stretch of beach is Cuckmere Haven and is a favorite landing spot for some of our local smugglers.”
    Gillian nodded, aware of a sudden kick in her pulse at his nearness. “Uncle mentioned at dinner the other night,” she said, turning her head away from Luc’s disturbing closeness, “that smugglers are very active around here.”
    “That’s true,” Luc said, smiling at her