Free The Ringmaster's Wife by Kristy Cambron Page A

the stall door.
    She met his gaze head-on.
    Few men Colin had ever worked with had issued a glare so direct it stopped him in his tracks. But she’d managed it. So much so that his knees nearly buckled.
    He’d never admit to that, of course.
    “Is your employer a good man?” she asked, strength underscoring her voice.
    “The best I’ve ever known.”
    “And you’ll send word if anything should happen to her?”
    Rose’s countenance changed. The light coming through the window cast shadows on the contours of her face, framing high cheekbones and a barely noticeable crease of concern that had begun to edge across her brow.
    He nodded. “I’ll see to it personally.”
    “And you’ll . . .” Rose paused to pinch the bridge of her nose, her voice crumbling again. “You’ll give her a taste of freedom every now and then, won’t you? You’ll let her roam those American fields just enough to stroke her spirit?”
    “We have more marsh than fields in Florida, but yes. I’ll let her roam when I can. She has spirit—that I can see. I believe it’s what makes her special.” He paused, choosing his words. “But we’ll have to find someone else to stand on her back. I’m afraid I’m terribly unbalanced in trick riding.”
    Rose blinked and took a step backward into the aisle between the stalls.
    “Knobby knees, you see,” he teased, allowing a grin to spread wide on his face.
    Rose cleared her throat.
    “I might as well be honest. I was awake early this morning and saw you slip out of the manor. My curiosity got the better of my feet, so they were forced to follow.”
    Rose closed her eyes for a few seconds, the embarrassment acute on her face.
    “How . . . much did you see?”
    “From the time you rode out and took this saddle off once you were over the hill? Enough to understand why you were wearing a stable hand’s clothes yesterday, and why you were so startled by my admission at dinner last evening. And when I said I knew you on sight yesterday, I meant that too. I’d come to Linton in part because of a trick riding show I knew to be there. It just so happens that an earl’s daughter isn’t quite as unrecognizable as she thinks she is.”
    Rose turned and sat again.
    Instead of replying, she busied herself by removing her riding gloves. He stood still, absently running his hand through Ingénue’s mane, still smiling that he’d called her on what she thought was a superior level of trickery.
    “You’re blushing,” he said, amused by her swift change in attitude.
    “It’s early still.” Rose fumbled with her gloves, refusing to look up at him. “I assure you it’s the effects of the cold morning air in Yorkshire, Mr. Keary.”
    Colin had to remind himself that the years after the war had changed much. Only a few years before, this woman would scarcely have been allowed in the same room with a man who would become her husband. Now she was alone in a stable with a man of little acquaintance, talking about blushes and gentlemen’s attire.
    He cleared his throat, forcing the smile from his lips. They’d get nowhere if she thought he was mocking her.
    He crossed to the end of the row of stalls, deposited the bit on a wall hook, and turned, stopping a few feet away from her chair.
    “Mind telling me where in the world you learned to ride like that?”
    She paused, thinking on it, then answered, “Hendrick.”
    He furrowed his brow. “And how did he learn?”
    Rose shook her head. “He never did. Just said I was a natural.” She sniffed and swiped at a stray tear that had eased down her cheek. “He used to goad me into standing on horseback as a childhood dare. And I couldn’t let him win, so I always did it. He said I was fearless on a horse.”
    “Fearless,” Colin repeated.
    Rosamund nodded.
    “Mr. Archer is our stable master here at the estate. He’s taught me more in the last eight years. His father once traveled with a menagerie show, and he learned about trick riding from him.