Free The Perfect Waltz by Anne Gracíe Page B

hers. He took his reins into his left hand and reached out his right arm to gather her up when she suddenly straightened, and with a joyous peal of laughter, brandished a twig in his face.
    “I did it!”
    It was Miss Hope Merridew, flushed, exhilarated, and triumphant.
    And in no danger whatsoever.
    “Oh! Mr. Reyne, good morning. Did you see? I did it!” She held the twig out.
    He could see at a glance she was a consummate horsewoman. She hadn’t been falling from an out-of-control horse, her head dangling inches from the horse’s hooves; she’d been deliberately galloping at an outrageous speed, dangling her head inches from the horse’s hooves in order to pick up a twig from the ground !
    Suddenly Sebastian was furious.
    “Are you mad?” he thundered at her, his horse keeping pace with hers. “Risking your neck in such a foolhardy endeavor!”
    She grinned at him and slowed her horse to a canter. “It’s the first time I’ve done it!” Her tone was self-congratulatory, not the slightest bit apologetic or mollifying.
    “What the devil possessed you to attempt such an insane thing this morning, then?”
    “Oh, I’ve attempted it dozens of times,” she corrected him. “I’ve been practicing for ages. This is the first morning I’ve actually succeeded in picking up a twig.” She waved it merrily.
    Her blithe insouciance infuriated him. He was lost for words. The thought of her risking that beautiful neck morning after morning drove all the breath from his lungs. How could she?
    Eventually he mastered himself enough to speak. “Well for God’s sake don’t do it again,” he growled, his heart still thudding from the fright he’d received. “Why in Hades does your groom allow it?”
    “Allow it? James?” She gave a gurgle of laughter. “He doesn’t have any choice. He couldn’t stop me if he tried.”
    Spoiled. A pampered, protected daughter of the aristocracy, indulged all her life, no doubt. Couldn’t imagine anything bad happening to her. Whereas Sebastian could only too clearly conjure up a vision of her broken or battered body . . . The thought was too horrific for words. He wanted to snatch her off her horse and wrap her up safe. He ground out, “Sounds like a poor excuse for a groom.”
    “Strictly speaking, he’s our footman, not a groom, but even so, he does a wonderful job. James has known us all our lives. He doesn’t like me doing these tricks, but he knows I’d do them anyway, so he comes along to keep an eye on me.”
    Sebastian glanced around and said caustically. “Some eye. He’s a good half mile away.”
    She laughed again, “Oh, that’s my fault. I always encourage the stableboy to give James the slower horse. Today he has the worst slug you have ever seen.”
    She needed a much firmer hand on the reins, he thought. If she were his to protect, she wouldn’t be up at dawn riding alone and unprotected, taking insane risks to pick up a twig! The thought occurred to him that if she was his, neither of them would be out at dawn. A vision came to him of her in his bed. He swallowed and forced it out of his mind. To cover up his moment of weakness, he said harshly, “A groom’s job is to ensure your safety, not watch you risk your neck morning after morning.”
    “Nonsense! James is very protective of my safety,” she argued. “Why, he was the one who came up with the design for this extra strap, and that’s what made the whole endeavor workable.” She pulled back her habit and showed him the strap.
    Sebastian gave the strap a fleeting glance, trying not to notice how the fabric pulled tight against the graceful line of her thigh. He said nothing. He was still too angry at the idea of her being assisted to risk her neck for a pointless trick.
    “I fell off so many times before he came up with this.”
    He was so horrified he must have jerked on the reins. His horse pulled sharply back, and she passed him. He swiftly caught up. “You. Fell. Off?” He was furious