Free Just One Season in London by Leigh Michaels Page B

between the stone church and the shop next door directly into her path and, it seemed, no more than inches away.
    Sophie’s heart leaped into her throat, but Moondust was already turning with a flash of white feet, and Sophie felt only the brush of a hard thigh and the scrape of the edge of a high-topped boot through the skirt of her habit as the other rider pulled his gelding aside.
    Moondust skidded to a halt in the middle of the narrow street, leaving Sophie breathing hard. She was still frightened, but she was exhilarated as well—for what a display of horsemanship that had been. She patted the mare’s neck in appreciation. “You’re a good girl, Moondust!”
    Lord Randall galloped up beside her and stretched out a hand to grab the mare’s reins from her hand.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” Sophie gasped, guiding the mare to one side so his fingers closed on thin air.
    â€œHow fortunate you were not thrown, Miss Ryecroft, because of her running away with you like that! And then to nearly unseat another rider… I shall lead her all the way home.”
    â€œYou shall do nothing of the sort,” Sophie snapped. “She didn’t run away with me—I wanted to have a good gallop. But I’m afraid the rest is true, though it is entirely my fault and not Moondust’s.” She turned the mare toward the rider she had almost collided with.
    He was yards away, taking time and space to bring his mount under control. Wise of him, Sophie thought, to keep some distance from an unknown rider and an unfamiliar animal. Now, however, he pulled the gelding around and came back toward her, and she nudged the mare and met him halfway.
    â€œIt was rude and thoughtless of me not to stop well before I reached the edge of the village,” Sophie said. “I do beg your pardon, sir, but you have the most wonderful command of your mount, not to have knocked me into the dust as I deserved!”
    She was looking at the horse as she spoke—he was a glossy black gelding, big enough to have bowled Moondust over entirely. Big enough to have seriously injured both of them, in fact.
    Sophie raised her eyes to the gelding’s rider and had to smother a gasp. She had never seen a young man who was so handsome. Beneath the stiff brim of his hat, his hair curled in ringlets of an even brighter gold than her own, and his wide-set eyes were an unusual shade of greenish blue. His features were regular, his profile perfect, his shoulders broad, his face lean and youthful… He might have been a classical statue come to life. He was older than she was, she decided, but not by much.
    The handsome young man controlled his horse with ease, turning him in the street and bringing him up alongside Moondust. He touched his hat respectfully and smiled, which made his features seem even more like those of an angel.
    Sophie felt a little dizzy. “Oh,” she said feebly and wondered if this was how men felt when she smiled at them. Was she acting as besotted as most males seemed to do around her?
    â€œIt is an honor to encounter you,” he said softly. “ There be none of Beauty’s daughters with a magic like thee. ”
    His voice was just as beautiful as the rest of him—like bells on a crisp spring morning, Sophie thought, even though he wasn’t making a whole lot of sense.
    He must have seen her puzzlement. “Byron,” he said simply. “It seemed the only thing to say.”
    Lord Randall pulled up beside them once more. “I must apologize, sir.” He sounded both appalled and breathless, as though he had been the one involved in the near collision. “I trust no lasting damage has been done to you or your mount through Miss Ryecroft’s heedless action?”
    How dared he interrupt that beautiful voice when all she wanted to do was listen? Before she could stop herself, Sophie said sharply, “I’ve already expressed my regret, Lord Randall.