Free Belle's Beau by Gayle Buck

realized that the odds of his coming out alive might very well have swung against him. After all, he had already survived years of war and countless skirmishes.
    The early-morning mists lifted, revealing another verdant green. A lone rider was cantering toward him. Lord Ashdon was astonished to discover another early riser such as himself, and even more astonished when he saw that the rider was a young female without an accompanying groom.
    As he began to come abreast of the solitary rider, hearing the clip of the other horse's hoofbeats clearly, Ashdon suffered a shock. He recognized the lady's face as she passed him. "My God!"
    Instantly he pulled up his horse, setting it almost on its haunches. Within seconds he had the animal turned, and he whipped it to speed. His mount stretched quickly into full gallop. It was a powerful beast, with good bottom, yet the viscount was anxious that he would not be able to catch the rider.
    As though she had heard the thundering hoofbeats coming up from behind her, the rider glanced back. A merry look passed over her face, and she bent low in the saddle, encouraging her own horse to a gallop.
    Lord Ashdon grimly chased his quarry. Bit by bit, his stallion gained ground, until he suddenly cut across the rider's path. The lady reined in her gelding, laughter bubbling from her lips.
    "Well done, sir!" she called. Her hazel eyes, flecked with gold, gleamed with excitement. Her cheeks were rosy from the wind, and her generous mouth flashed a quick smile.
    Lord Ashdon felt his heart thumping in his chest. He was almost as affected as he was on the eve before a battle. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins furiously, and he took a deep, steadying breath. "Forgive me for pursuing you in such a relentless fashion," he said diffidently. "I am Ashdon, you know."
    Recognition lit the lady's eyes. "Lord Ashdon! I am an acquaintance of your cousin Mr. Roland White. He informed me that you had returned to London. I had hoped that we would meet at some function or other. I am Belle Weatherstone."
    Miss Weatherstone extended her hand to the viscount. He hardly comprehended what she had said. It was enough that she had spoken. He took her fingers, slightly dazed. Perhaps he had a right to be, he thought incoherently, for certainly chance had played a huge part in this meeting.
    Belle was quite surprised that the viscount had accosted her so boldly. She knew well enough now that good ton required a formal introduction. She was not one to cavil, however. The informality of their setting and the suddenness of their meeting must provide excuse enough to perform their own introductions. She would not allow the unorthodox to spoil the moment.
    Belle studied Lord Ashdon's countenance, taking quick note of the scar that descended into his brow. It had been he whom she had seen at Almack's, then. She felt a thrill of satisfaction that was not lessened as she gazed at the laugh lines at the corners of his wide-set blue eyes, his straight, regular nose, the thin-lipped firm mouth and strong jaw. Belle liked very much what she saw. Lord Ashdon was quite the handsome fellow. Mr. White had not exaggerated.
    "Miss Weatherstone." Lord Ashdon cleared his throat. A grin suddenly lit his tanned face. "It appears that I am struck dumb in your presence. Pray forgive my clumsy attempt to bring myself to your regard. I am usually much more polished upon making myself known to a young lady."
    "Do you not always make a practice of running the ladies down on your horse, then?" asked Belle teasingly. She slid a laughing glance in the viscount's direction as she turned her stolid mount and set it walking toward the park entrance.
    Lord Ashdon's keen eyes flared wide, as though in surprise. "You take me aback, ma'am."
    At once, Belle was dismayed. She had put her foot in it again. Her aunt's gentle voice rang reprovingly in her thoughts. She shook her head ruefully. "It is the curse of my too-freely-spoken mind, my lord. I am