Free Loving a Lost Lord by Mary Jo Putney Page B

sure. He knew the sea well, loved being near the water even now, after he’d nearly died in those dark depths. But he didn’t have the sense that his life was built around the sea, which would be the case if he was a sea captain.
    Now why did he automatically think he’d be a captain? He suspected that he was used to giving orders.
    As he climbed the lane back to the house, he found himself breathing hard and his limbs trembling. Though his mind was alert, his body hadn’t fully recovered from its ordeal.
    Rather than return to the house, he headed to the out-buildings beyond. A small paddock adjacent to the stables contained several horses. One, a bright-eyed blood bay, trotted toward him enthusiastically.
    He smiled and quickened his step. Horses were definitely a subject he knew.
    Â 
    On the way downstairs for breakfast, Mariah stopped by Adam’s room to see how he was doing. Her heart jumped when she tapped on the door and looked inside to find the room empty. What if he had wandered off during the night and become lost? What if he’d been drawn down to the sea again and been swept away by the tide?
    She told herself not to be an idiot. Adam had been quite rational in the intervals when he was awake, so likely he’d risen early and decided he was well enough to leave his bed. A check of the wardrobe proved that some of her father’s clothing was missing.
    Hoping Adam had gone no farther than the kitchen, she headed there and found Mrs. Beckett baking oatmeal scones flavored with dried currants. Mariah took one, so hot it scorched her fingers. As she buttered it, she said, “Mr. Clarke is up and about. Has he made his way down here?”
    â€œNot yet.” The cook eyed her severely. “You never mentioned that you had a husband.”
    â€œI’d seen so little of him that I didn’t feel very married,” Mariah said, her conscience nagging. Horrible how one lie begat a whole swamp of lies. “We’re going to have to get acquainted all over again.” She bit into her scone. “Delicious!”
    She suspected that Mrs. Beckett had questions about this suddenly revealed marriage, but the older woman didn’t pursue the matter. “What does Mr. Clarke like to eat? If he’s up and about now, he’ll be ready for a proper meal.”
    â€œLight food would be best today,” Mariah said, since she hadn’t the faintest idea what Adam’s tastes were. “Perhaps a hearty soup and a bit of fish for dinner.” She scooped up two more scones. “I’ll see if he’s outside.”
    â€œIf you find him, I’ll make a nice herb omelet for his breakfast.”
    â€œI’d like one of those, too.” Mariah kissed the cook’s cheek as she headed for the door. “Mrs. Beckett, you are a treasure!”
    The older woman chuckled. “I am indeed, and don’t you forget it.”
    Outside, Mariah scanned the slope down to the sea, but didn’t see Adam. She turned to the stables, scones in hand. In her experience, it was a rare man who wasn’t drawn to the nearest horses, so the stables were her best guess. Hartley Manor had the usual workhorses, plus two excellent riding horses that her father had won at cards.
    She was taking another bite from one of the scones when her father rode around the corner of the stable.
    She cried out and pressed her hands to her mouth, the scones tumbling to the grass as she almost fainted from shock.
    Adam catapulted from the horse and darted toward her, concern in his vivid green eyes. “Mariah, what’s wrong?”
    Adam. Not her father—Adam. Shaking, she choked out, “I…I thought you were my father. You were wearing his clothing, riding his horse, Grand Turk. For a moment, I was sure you were he.”
    As Grand Turk ate her partial scone from the ground, Adam enveloped her in his arms. There was a faint scent of her father in his garments, but the