on a small slope in front of the stables. Massive in size and nasty in disposition, the creature bore a silver saddle that complemented the richness of its pewter coat. Frowning, she accepted the horse’s reins from the stable lad she’d encountered the other day.
“His name is Dante,” Viktor said.
Isabella wound the leather reins around her hands nervously. “Of course it is.”
“Pardon me, my lady?”
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
“Good luck with him.”
“Thank you.” She paused. “Where is my husband?”
“Master Draven will be out in a moment. He prefers to ready his own horse.”
As she waited, Dante fumed and snorted in Isabella’s direction. There was no doubt in her mind that her husband had hand-selected the horse to make her look like a fool.
Taking his sweet time, Draven emerged with the reins of his magnificent black horse clasped in his gloved hands. He swept toward Isabella without uttering a word. Erect in posture, Draven displayed an alluring confidence as he dropped his horse’s reins and came to assist Isabella into her saddle. He clamped his strong hands around her waist and she fought the urge to lean back against his chest. Still, he was close enough for her to feel his breath at her earlobe and the sensation shot right through her.
After Draven mounted his stallion, they were off. Under clear skies of blue and over thick pockets of mud they thundered with a liberating fury. As her husband moved alongside her, it became apparent to Isabella that he was an accomplished rider. In fact, an impressive show of his straight back and experienced hands made him an attractive horseman.
Twittering in her own saddle and clinging desperately to the bridle, Isabella followed Draven over the moist marshes, down through the woods to the edge of Dunwich and back.
“Do you ride every morning?” she asked breathlessly once they’d guided their horses to a stop at the foot of a dangerous-looking cliff.
He met her stare with interest. “I intend to start. After you’ve spent any length of time at Thorncliff Towers, you will want to escape its dreary atmosphere as well.”
Isabella pushed a curl from her eyes. “I don’t know if my legs could stand this kind of riding every day.”
“That’s a shame. I hoped you would join me outdoors every morning.”
She gave him a smile. “Am I not an enemy to be avoided?”
“Please forget what I said yesterday, Isabella. I acted impulsively and out of anger. I regretted it all evening.” Draven flashed a devastating grin. “Can we be pleasant with one another?”
Hope sprang in her chest. Considering her husband’s good mood today, persuading him to make love to her might not be as hard as she thought.
“I suppose there’s no harm in joining you for a ride every morning,” she said.
He crossed his hands over the saddle horn. “Good.”
“Perhaps we can spend some time in the library afterward.”
“I would love to, but following my ride, I seek the solitude of my suites.”
“What keeps you holed up there all day?” Isabella asked as her breath misted in the morning chill.
“I am in the process of starting a shipbuilding business. Before he died, my father spoiled me by purchasing property in the Canterbury docks.” Draven inhaled the fresh air. “Keeping my mind on business helps me maintain a sense of sanity in this dreary place.”
“I thought I was the only one who thought this estate was dreary.”
She watched the front of his hair flap about in the wind. With a charming tilt of his head, he smiled at her and the way his face transformed wrapped pleasure around her spine.
“We should dismount and sit awhile,” he said. “I’m sure the horses would like to graze.”
He swung himself to the ground then skirted his horse to help Isabella down. A breeze from the shoreline fluttered over them once they settled on the swaying grass. Isabella plucked up the last flower to survive the autumn chill and spun it in circles