Page 4 of The Burning Passion of a Fiery Lady
They followed her down a long garden path. He saw the stables almost immediately, and his heart quickened. There was nothing he loved more in the world than stables. He felt at home in them, somehow; comfortable in a way that he never felt in actual houses.
He spied the figure of another woman, standing at the entrance to the stables, as they approached. His eyes narrowed, gazing at her curiously. She had an air of expectation surrounding her, somehow.
They were almost upon her. Her face lit up into a wide smile as she approached them, walking quickly.
He felt his heartbeat thud harder. He didn’t know who she was, but he knew straight away that she wasn’t another servant at this property. Her gown was modest, in a muted lavender, but of an expensive cut of muslin. She wore little jewellery – just a small locket, hanging from a chain, around her neck, understated but elegant.
She is beautiful, he thought, his eyes devouring her.
The woman was young, probably only in her middle twenties, with hair a shade of titian red. It was swept back, into a low lying chignon at the back of her head, but he could see that it was thick and wavy. Her complexion was pale, the colour of porcelain. Slender, and tall, almost willowy. She had large grey eyes, which she fixed on him, in an open and friendly manner.
“Mr Stone?” she asked, smiling.
He nodded his head. “Yes, I am Jasper Stone.”
Her smile widened, exposing a row of even, white teeth. “I am Mrs Drake. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
He tried to suppress his surprise at her words.Thiswas the Widow Drake? This beautiful young woman, who looked so maidenly and innocent? His mental picture of a corpulent, middle-aged virago suddenly vanished before his eyes like a puff of smoke.
He glanced quickly at David. He could see that his apprentice was surprised, too. They had never worked for a woman so young before.
Nor one so lovely, he thought, his eyes raking over her again.
Her smile was full and frank, but he sensed a slight reserve in her manner. There was some air of sadness which surrounded her like a cloud. Was she still grieving her late husband? He had no idea how long ago he had died.
He had no idea about any of the details of her life. But then, he noted the colour of her gown. Lavender was a colour that a lot of widows wore when their initial period of mourning was over. Sometimes, they stayed in those muted shades for the rest of their lives.
Somehow, he just sensed she was different from other women. The intuition was strong; he never usually had such forceful first impressions about people. It was as if her pain had changed her, in some way, but it hadn’t twisted her or made her bitter like it did with so many others. The air of suffering became her, in some odd way.
Instinctively, his heart leapt towards her as if he sensed a kindred spirit. Someone else, who had suffered in the way that he had. The pull was almost irresistible.
She was gazing at him, expectantly. Suddenly, he pulled himself up. She was waiting for him to say something. The others were gazing at him curiously, too.
“Mrs Drake,” he said. “The honour is mine. May I introduce my apprentice, Mr David Bragg?”
“A pleasure, ma’am,” said the apprentice quickly.
Her smile widened. “Well! I am sure you are both eager to meet the colt,” she said quickly. “He is such a beauty! If you would follow me, I can introduce you to him …”
They all followed her further into the stables, past other horses, who gazed at them soulfully over their gates. Jasper stared at them but knew it wasn’t the time to greet them yet. Later, after he had met the colt, he could introduce himself to the others.
They reached the back stable. Mrs Drake opened the gate with a flourish, standing back so that they could all enter.
The horse was at the back, feeding from a bag hung over the stable wall. He was a beauty, to be sure; long-limbed, as black as coal, with a coat so shiny it seemed to gleam, even in the darkness.
The colt. The reason that he had travelled here. He felt a sharp stab of pleasure, even just gazing on him. This was why he did what he did – for this pleasure, at seeing a young, untamed animal, that he could guide and mould, little by little until it accepted a rider on its back.
“Hello, boy,” he said softly, approaching the beast cautiously.
The animal looked at him warily. He took another step forward, softly. But the colt’s eyes suddenly widened, wild, and he stepped back, shaking his head, so his mane undulated. His legs started to stomp, and he reared up, neighing in warning.
“Its alright, boy,” Jasper said, in the same low voice. “It’s alright.”
The colt continued to rear up for a moment before settling back down again. But Jasper could tell by the manic glint in the horse’s brown eyes that he would do it again, if he tried to approach, at the moment.
It was enough for the moment. They had an audience, as well. The Widow Drake was still standing there, as was Mrs Lambert, the housekeeper. He would start the long, laborious task of breaking the colt in when they were alone, with only David, learning how to do it.
“He’s a beauty,” he said, turning back to the widow. “A wild spirit.”
