Free In the Garden of Disgrace by Cynthia Wicklund Page A

against the wall in the tack room.”
    “At your service, my lady,” the earl said,
bowing before he turned toward the stable.
    She blew through her lips, creating an
unladylike sound. His sincerity was as believable as a paste jewel,
she thought in disgust as she made ready to mount her horse.
Jillian grabbed hold of Raven’s bridle and, placing her right hand
on his hindquarter as leverage, leapt belly first onto the back of
the horse. As soon as she knew she was securely in place, she threw
her leg over the animal and came into a sitting position.
    “What the hell are you doing?” Lord Wickham
had appeared from the stable holding the fishing poles in one hand
and leading his horse with the other. He stared at her in
consternation.
    “What does it look like I’m doing?”
    “Where’s your saddle?”
    “I rarely use a saddle and never a
sidesaddle.”
    “Good God, woman, no wonder people question
your behavior. A lady does not ride a horse like that.”
    “Who said I’m a lady?” Jillian sneered. “For
your information I find it odd that females are encouraged to ride
in so dangerous a fashion. A sidesaddle makes me feel as though I’m
about to topple to the ground. I can’t control Raven as easily that
way.”
    “That’s nonsense. Unless you are racing at
unsafe speeds, you should be perfectly safe riding in the
traditional manner.”
    “This is how I am going, my lord,” she said
haughtily. “Are you coming or not?”
    A steely look entered the earl’s eyes, a
look that made Jillian all at once ill at ease.
    “As you will, my lady,” he said in a cool
voice.
    He mounted his horse.
    The journey to Squire Lindley’s property
took less than thirty minutes. The trip was a silent one with
neither rider apparently willing to break the awkward quiet. At
least, Jillian knew she was not. The earl rode slightly behind her
and to her right, and though she could not see him except from the
periphery of her vision, his unspoken disapproval roared at
her.
    Too bad, she thought defiantly. Who did he
think he was anyway, coming into her life and telling her what to
do? She must tolerate his company because she had promised Simon,
but it seemed a waste of time to move forward with the courtship
when she had no intention of following through with the
wedding.
    Jillian led them about a quarter mile into a
wooded area where a large stream sliced through the trees. Though
still dark the dying moon cast a silvery reflection onto the
stream, illuminating the surrounding landscape. The water flowed
along a high, grassy embankment, and small rocks worn smooth by
countless years of erosion filled the shallows at the shore’s
edge.
    Lord Wickham immediately dismounted. “I can
see why you like it here,” he said, coming to stand next to her
horse. “Is the fishing good?”
    “I rarely worry about the fish,” she
answered stiffly. “I come for other reasons.”
    He reached up to help her from her horse,
and Jillian glanced into his raised face. The moonlight emphasized
his sculpted features, features so ruggedly handsome she felt her
throat constrict. She wanted to ignore his courteous gesture, not
because she disliked his offer but because she feared him touching
her. She refused to ponder why that should be.
    “I’m quite capable of getting off my horse
when I am ready,” she said, aware she was being ungracious.
    “I’m certain you are.” The earl did not move
away from her when she rebuffed him but rather continued to wait,
his gaze steady and unwavering.
    “You are a stubborn man, my lord.”
    “So I’ve been told.”
    To continue to refuse him would make her
appear petty, thus Jillian placed her hands on his shoulders and
allowed him to swing her to the ground. He released her
immediately.
    The earl apparently had thought nothing of
the contact. But she could still feel where he had held her waist
in a strong grip, and she detested the nervous quivering that had
risen in her stomach. She was attracted to