Free On Gentle Wings by Patricia McAllister Page A

toward the mare.
    “Go on,” Anne urged her. “She won’t bite.”
    The animal lipped her fingers in search of treats, and
despite her fear, Isobel chuckled at the ticklish sensations. Then she sobered.
    “Oh, girls, I don’t know if I can.”
    “Can what?” inquired another, deeper voice behind them.
Isobel whirled and guiltily regarded their father. Kit had changed into black
trousers and boots and wore a simple, loose white shirt with an open collar.
His longish hair was hastily clubbed back and a few stray, auburn curls
softened the masculine lines of his jaw. He appeared incredibly, achingly
handsome to her hungry eyes.
    “Can ride Mystery first,” Anne said quickly. “But we want
her to, don’t we, Gracie? Isobel should have the very first ride because she’s
going away soon.”
    Grace nodded emphatically.
    Kit looked surprised but pleased. “That’s sweet of you,
poppets. How about it, Isobel?”
    She hesitated, then nodded shyly, praying that the secret
love she nursed for him wasn’t as obvious as her terror of horses.
     
    ~*~
     
    “ H ere we go,”
Kit said, hoisting Isobel into the saddle. He winked reassuringly at her when
she fumbled to recall the proper position and then clung with obvious fear to
the mare’s silky mane.
    Fortunately, Mystery possessed a less flighty nature than
her namesake, and stood placidly munching grass while Isobel accustomed herself
to the saddle again. She shifted in place, trying not to wrinkle the precise
folds of her new riding clothes.
    It was absurd, of course, for Kit to have insisted upon yet
another outfit for her trousseau, but she had to admit the crimson-colored
split skirt and matching jacket made her look as good as anything else she
possessed did. Why, she could almost be said to look pretty today.
    Not for the first time, Isobel wished she were brave enough
to follow in Kit’s wake when he thundered across hill and dale, as she’d seen
him do every day this week. Wished she could share in his love of horses and life.
    But she stiffened in instinctual terror when Mystery
shifted, stretching her neck to snatch at a bunch of Michaelmas daisies. Good
heavens, she was never going to get the hang of this! Days had passed, and she
had yet to progress to a simple trot. Kit was incredibly patient with her,
leading the mare back and forth on foot, all the while keeping a firm control
on the reins.
    “Today you’re going to try it yourself,” he said. He reached
up and handed her the reins, and Isobel reluctantly accepted them.
    “Here. Hold them like this,” he added, guiding her hands
into the proper position, adjusting her fingers as he saw fit. “That way, you
have better control of the animal and she’ll take her cues from you.”
    Did anyone truly ever have control of such a great beast? Isobel wondered. She sat rigidly still, hardly daring to breathe. As his hands
roamed over hers, she wondered if Kit might recognize the shape of her hand,
the feel of her flesh, as “Madame Mysterie’s.” Part of her hoped he would.
After all, how could a man forget the subtle nuances of a woman he supposedly
adored? Unless that woman was merely another in a long line of jades who amused
him for but a moment …
    He patted his palm down upon the back of her hand in a
reassuring gesture. “You’ll do fine. I’m going to saddle Aurelius now. Just sit
quietly and wait for me here.”
    As if she would do otherwise! Isobel felt she daren’t
breathe for fear Mystery might bolt. Alter Kit vanished into the stables, her
gaze sought out two little redheads peering out an upper window from the house.
She longed to raise her fist and rail at the grinning urchins. Only sheer
terror prevented her from doing so.
    Inside the house, Anne and Grace exulted over the success of
their plan.
    “Papa told me at breakfast he’s going to show her the river
today,” Anne said. “He said they might even try a canter, if Isobel’s brave
enough. If only she could manage to sprain