Free After The Storm by Kimberly Nee

of Thorpeton. He groaned and closed his eyes. It was a title he neither wanted nor aspired to, but was one he’d been groomed to inherit. Just as he’d been groomed to accept Sally Hayworth as his wife. He’d been content with seeing his father’s wishes to fruition. But that was before he met a certain Scot who had the ability to set fire to his blood without so much as a touch.

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Six
     
    The sun sliced through the fog as Miranda slipped noiselessly out the kitchen door and made her way to Thorpeton Hall’s stables. At one stall, she reached up to rub a bay mare’s velvety nose. “Feel like a run, Lady Jane?”
    The mare’s ears twitched as she nosed about in hopes of a treat, and Miranda laughed as she guided her from her stall to saddle her. She needed this respite from the stuffy music and drawing rooms.
    The air was crisp and cold, and the sky was surprisingly blue as she set out toward the woods surrounding Thorpeton Hall. Her breath emerged in silvery clouds as she urged Lady Jane into a cantor. It was a glorious morning and, dressed in her most comfortable breeches and a billowy white shirt she’d purloined from her best friend Duncan ages ago, she felt more like her old self.
    Despite the sun, dampness weighted the air, and held the clean, refreshing scent of rain. She breathed deep, savored the mossy scent of fresh air, and guided Lady Jane toward a bridle path between two large hawthorn trees.
    There was nothing she loved more than being on horseback, especially when she didn’t have to sit sidesaddle, and the ride did much to lift her spirits, not to mention ease the heaviness from her thoughts. It was a lovely day, if a bit cool, and time ceased to matter as she explored the paths winding through Thorpeton Hall’s tranquil woods.
    By the time she made her way back toward the stables, her head was clear and her thoughts unmuddled. A perfect way to begin her day. Now she could look forward to her lessons.
    “Well, a good morning to you, my lady.”
    Startled, Miranda jerked hard on Lady Jane’s reins and drew her up short as another horse and rider emerged from the woods with the snap and crackle of dead leaves.
    “Your Grace?” She squinted into the bright sunlight. Perhaps she was mistaken. Surely dukes didn’t jaunt about unaccompanied, did they? Shouldn’t he have a valet, or a keeper, or something of the sort?
    “A good morning to you, Miss MacDonough.”
    Horse and rider neared and she saw it was, indeed, Hugh Thorpeton. Her belly toppled over, but she was calm otherwise as she said, “A good morning to you as well, Your Grace.”
    He held up an ungloved hand. The Duke of Thorpeton was no dandy, if he cared so little about the condition of his hands he rode without gloves. Somehow, she wasn’t at all surprised.
    “Please, I must insist you drop that silly ‘Your Grace’. I find it quite tiresome to no longer have a name, but only a title.”
    “Then how shall I address you?” The pert question popped out on its own and with it went every last one of her lady lessons. She forgot all about showing at least some reverence at speaking with a duke. “I cannot possibly call you ‘Hugh’, and ‘Oy, you!’ is right out, I’m afraid.”
    His laugh boomed forth like a clap of thunder. “No, they wouldn’t do at all, I’m afraid. If you like, Thorpeton is fine. I’ll not spill to your aunt or chaperone of your liberty.” He peered over one shoulder, than the other, and finally twisted about in his saddle. “Speaking of Mrs. Anderson…gave her the slip, did you? I assume she has taken over your life.”
    Angry heat flared through her. “Och, I dinna need a chaperone, laddie. Do you see any danger about? Do the birds prey upon unsuspecting riders, perhaps?”
    Hugh shook his head and swung down from his mount. A wince accompanied his first step, but then vanished. He closed the gap between them to catch Lady Jane by her halter. “And how is it you are so