Free To Wed a Wild Lord by Sabrina Jeffries

What was he doing? This was Sharpe’s grandmother, for God’s sake! The scoundrel had clearly come by his recklessness honestly; Isaac could well imagine Hester Plumtree driving a carriage neck for leather down some track. And woe be unto the fool who stood in her way.
    “I must see to my granddaughter,” he muttered, turning away. He needed to escape the woman and her machinations before he foundered on the rocks.
    It had been a mistake coming here. He would just lock the girl up on Friday; let Sharpe come after her if he wanted his race.
    He strode out to the hall. “Virginia, we’re going home.”
    There was no one there. “Virginia!” he shouted.
    No one came, and there was no sign of where she might have gone.
    “Damnation! Where the devil is my granddaughter?”

Chapter Four
    V irginia followed the detailed directions that the kind footman had given her to the stables. This mansion was unbelievable. Who lived in such a place?
    No wonder Lord Gabriel was so sure of himself. He’d been handed everything on a silver platter from the time he was born, so he assumed he had a right to it all.
    Well, she would take him down a peg.
    It was a pity that Poppy was being so stubborn about the carriage race. Didn’t he want to see Lord Gabriel publicly humiliated?
    Well, she had a plan. If she could get a look at the horses Lord Gabriel used to pull his phaeton, she’d have some ammunition for her arguments with Poppy. She would detail their strengths and weaknesses, then point out exactly how she could beat them with her own horses. She had a whole stud farm to draw from, after all. She doubted that Lord Gabriel had that.
    It wouldn’t hurt to survey his rig, either. There might be some way she could improve her curricle. If she could just convince Poppy that she couldn’t lose this race, he might relent.
    She neared a large building that obviously housed several horses, a short distance from a smaller building that also seemed to be a stable. Oh, dear, which one held his horses and phaeton? And how was she to gain the grooms’ help in looking at them without showing her hand?
    Suddenly a groom emerged from the larger building carrying a bucket. She ducked into a doorway to watch as he called for a younger groom. As soon as the younger one came flying, the older handed him the bucket and said, “This is the special mash Lord Gabriel wanted for his new horse. Make sure that the beast eats all of it. It’ll ease her digestion.”
    The young groom hurried across to the smaller building and ducked inside with the bucket, then came out shortly afterward without it.
    Virginia let out a breath. Lord Gabriel’s new horse must be for his phaeton. Since the small stable wasn’t nearly as busy as the large one, perhaps she could get in to see it without being spotted.
    She edged toward the entrance, looking about for any grooms who might emerge from the larger one. When she heard voices coming her way, she darted into the small stable.
    Then she stopped short. Because standing in the narrow aisle was Lord Gabriel himself.
    He held the bucket of mash in his hands and was feeding it to the horse whose nose she could just see sticking out of a stall. His lordship wore no coat or cravat, just a waistcoat and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up exposing his fine, muscular forearms.
    She caught her breath. In shirt sleeves, riding breeches, and top boots, he was a rather astonishing figure of a man, lean and fit and handsome. Too handsome for any woman’s sanity.
    “There now, my little filly,” he crooned to the horse. “This should make you feel better.”
    His soothing voice did something fluttery to her insides. It was hard not to be charmed by a man who could treat an animal so tenderly. It made her wonder how he would be with a woman.
    She cursed inwardly. She didn’t wonder any such thing. She did not !
    “And stop fighting the grooms, will you?” Lord Gabriel told the filly. “You must save that fine energy for the