Page 110 of Taming Ivy
"Sebastian, don’t you understand?" she said, soft and drowsy with exhaustion. "I’ve always been yours.”
CHAPTER 38
Sebastian watched Ivy donned a riding habit. She did not bother to ring for Molly's assistance. "Where are you going?" A flare of panic ignited in his eyes.
Waking from a restless slumber to find one’s wife entirely dressed, ready to escape, was surely an unnerving sight and regret stabbed Ivy. She’d grown accustomed to their mornings together; sharing tea, coffee, and sugar biscuits while discussing their plans for the day were now treasured moments. But not this morning. Her emotions were too tangled and raw to face him without bursting into overwrought tears.
Her boots were yanked on with fierce tugs. "Riding.” Taking a deep breath, she clarified, "Alone. I... I need time alone. To think.”
Sebastian’s gaze morphed into cool steel. "It's not safe at this hour.”
"I'll take a groom.” Ivy finally dared to look at him reclining against the pillows, bare chested, sheets twisted about his waist. A lock of raven black hair tumbled over his brow; she almost crossed over to brush it back before catching herself. Considering her intention, his jaw clenched with annoyance.
"Stay close to your escort. And Ivy, when you return, you and I will have a necessary conversation on what is to be done.”
Tears springing to her eyes, Ivy ducked her head and hurried from the room.
No one was stirring in the stables at this time of the morning so Ivy saddled Spring herself and led the mare to the curving gravel path in front of the stables. While wondering if she possessed the bravery to defy Sebastian’s order, Gabriel rounded the corner of the building. Even in the grey predawn light, his broad form was recognizable.
Ivy’s lips tightened. "He rang for you the moment I left, didn’t he?”
"Of course. Which is why I must ask where is your groom, milady?" Gabriel’s brow rose high as Ivy climbed the mounting block without answering him. He held Spring by the bit while she mounted the mare and gathered the reins. The leather was buttery soft in her bare hands; in the haste to escape Sebastian, she forgot both riding gloves and hat.
"There’s no one to ask.”
“You cannot ride unaccompanied.” He held up a hand as Ivy made to argue the point. “He’ll have my head on a platter, as well you know.”
Ivy met Gabriel’s calm amber-hued stare. "Try to keep up, but do not get too close. I desire privacy this morning and after last night's fiasco, I deserve it.”
At first, she kept a sedate pace, contemplating the evening before. The fact Sebastian overheard her comments to Sara muddled things in their fragile relationship. Did she truly mean those words now? Sebastian pressed for something she could not give him... a declaration of love, a surrender of her soul she could not bear to actually forfeit. He wanted to possess all parts of her. She shivered, thinking of the previous evening. The dominant nature of Sebastian’s lovemaking was worrisome, containing some element of male governance she had yet to unravel.
Ivy wished herself a million miles from London, from England, away from the troubles twisting her inside out. She was shattered from fighting her husband and her own emotions; mentally exhausted in these attempts to outfox him. She craved blankness, a tiny sliver of time where she could wipe her mind clean. When her knees touched Spring’s flanks, the mare shot forward, eager to gallop at the speed her mistress demanded and Ivy realized that peace was attainable, if only for a short time, riding in the early morning fog.
Racing through Hyde Park’s open fields, Ivy ignored the carefully manicured gravel pathways where London society rode in aimless, pointless circles every afternoon. Had Sebastian chanced upon her, witnessed the dangerous pace she set, he would have tossed her skirts to give her rump a furious blistering. Thoughts of his anger proved incentive enough to drive the mare faster, the speed almost violent. Riding hard and fast emptied Ivy’s mind of the issues crowding it. Soon, there was nothing other than the muscles of the horse beneath her, the whip of the mane against her face when she bent over the mare’s neck, and the crisp morning air stinging her cheeks until her eyes watered.
There were few souls who ventured into the park this early and they were mere silhouettes in the misty distance. Spring tossed her fine head as Ivy loosened the reins to urge a speed bordering on perilous. Gabriel did not intervene, but undoubtedly her pace frightened him. As she entered small groves bright green with early summer leaves, he would catch up then fall behind once she reached open fields. As long as she was visible, he gave her the freedom to go where she willed, as fast as she desired.
Exiting a strand of trees, Ivy caught sight of two riders and one, streaking toward her on a flashy sorrel, was much closer than she initially thought. The other rode a huge bay with one white stocking, and shouted in a voice rough with irritation, "Slow down!”
Ignoring the command, the smaller, faster rider was soon racing alongside Ivy and Spring gave a familiar squeal of anger at the direct challenge. For nearly a half mile, the pair thundered along as if a queen’s fortune in diamonds lay at stake. Chunks of turf flew in all directions from flashing hooves as the headstrong gray mare outstripped the sorrel with ease.
The sound of feminine laughter made Ivy tug back on the reins. Pulling the mare into a half circle, she brought Spring to a snorting halt. Eager to continue the race, the gray cantered and spun in place, hooves churning up the soft grass as the other rider drew close.
It was the girl from the Graham’s ball, the one who had captured Ivy’s attention by standing with, but somehow apart, from the group of debutantes. She wore fawn-colored breeches and a white linen shirt, topped with a man’s style black riding coat cut to exacting trim proportions. Ivy noted enviously that she rode astride, her long legs encased in scuffed brown boots gripping the horse’s flanks. The gelding heeded every subtle command of the girl’s knee. A black cap covered her head and when she swept it off, a cascade of stick-straight, sunshine blonde hair was released. The girl’s mouth curved into a wide grin almost disturbing in its lushness.
"You ride magnificently, my lady. Is it not shameful women are barred from the Newmarket Races? I vow we could set the place on its ear if only allowed to show those arrogant men how it's done!"
Both horses pricked their ears. Husky and feminine with an intriguing lilt, the girl’s voice held the power to effortlessly arrest the attention of both men and beast. Her admiring gaze passed over Spring. "That mare is splendid. She must be from Ravenswood’s own stables. My guess is an offspring of that devil of a stallion he owns.”
Ivy nodded in silent agreement. She noticed Gabriel corralling the girl’s companion and following a brief conversation, the two men set toward them at a more leisurely pace.
"I'm Lady Grace Willsdown.” Leaning over the blowing sorrel, the girl offered her hand as a gentleman would. A rueful bark of laughter escaped her at Ivy’s surprise. "Sorry. A dreadful habit. I do forget that not everyone is forging business deals when excellent horseflesh is around.” Her head cocked in an inquisitive manner. "But it’s damn difficult to curtsy while on horseback, don’t you agree?”
Charmed by the girl’s blunt manner, Ivy grinned. "I am-”
"Lady Ravenswood, of course. You and the earl seem to be the subjects of choice this season.” Grace’s honey gold eyes flashed with both sympathy and instant regret. "Forgive me, my lady. I have a distressing tendency to say things quite improperly. What I meant is, everyone knows of you.”
Ivy was unoffended by the girl's candor, for there was no artifice in Grace Willsdown, no cruelty lurking behind her smile.
