Page 40 of Wicked Rivals
It would be like living with her father all over again, only this man would have even more power over her. He would be her husband. She couldn’t flee in the middle of the night; he would have her life caught in an iron fist. Wives were no better than a man’s livestock, and it was well within his rights to beat, starve or do anything he wished to his wife. What sort of torture would Ashton visit upon her if she ever displeased him? Henry had always left her enough control that she’d never felt helpless, but she knew Ashton was a different sort of man. She would choose death over such a fate.
“What’s the matter? You’re shaking.” Ashton was peering down at her. Rosalind was mortified to realize shewasshaking.
“I’m sorry.” She wasn’t sure why she apologized but she did.
Ashton curled his arms around her back and cocooned her. She was shaking too hard to fight the warm embrace and buried her head against his chest. He smelled like pine forests and a hint of sandalwood. It was an addictive sort of smell, one she could get used to and even crave when she was without it.
“Talk to me, Rosalind. I don’t have any desire to frighten you.”
It took a long while for her to find her breath again. She wiped at her eyes. “Please, I don’t wish to discuss this. May we go?”
Ashton cupped her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. “You can’t run away every time. Someday you will have to talk to me.”
Not when I finally escape this madness. The thought tasted bitter, but it was the truth. She was trapped here for a week, putting on a show for his mother’s benefit. But once the week was up, she would return to London whether he wished her to or not.
He sighed, and his look of disappointment cut her in unexpected ways.
“Very well. I trust you can ride in that gown?”
“Yes, if I go astride.”
His half smile returned. “And allow me to glimpse your legs? Then I have yet one more reason to smile.”
They left for the stables, and inside she found the comforting scents of horses, hay and leather—just the sort of thing to make all her worries evaporate. It was going to be a lovely day, and she would not let any emotional storm clouds dampen her spirits.
“Let’s see, perhaps you should take my favorite mare? She’s a lovely creature.” Ashton led her to a stall where a strong but beautiful white and gray dappled horse was nudging her oats bucket and huffing.
“She’s lovely.” Rosalind meant it. She adored horses. “What’s her name?”
Ashton stroked his palm down the horse’s nose, smiling indulgently as he fed her a few chestnuts from his pocket.
“Milady. Nothing else seemed to fit her. Even when she was a foal, she pranced about the paddock like a proper lady.” He rested his forehead against Milady and patted her face.
“And who will you ride?”
Ashton pointed to an inquisitive-looking gelding that was entirely black except for his white socks. “Prince.”
Ashton had a groom prepare the two horses. While they waited she had a chance to admire the fine stables. She was lulled into a sense of peace at the scent of fresh hay, the whicker and snorts of the other horses who peered curiously out of their stalls at her and Ashton.
“Your stables are beautiful,” she said, stroking a fingertip along a gleaming blue painted stall door.
“Thank you. I take great pride in my horses and want them to have only the best.”
“The horses are ready, my lord,” the groom announced as he led both beasts, one on either side, out into the stable yard.
“Thank you. Rosalind?” Ashton took her arm and led her toward the horses.
Then he lifted Rosalind up onto the saddle. She lifted her skirts and settled onto Milady’s back. Ashton mounted Prince and then turned his horse toward hers.
“Up for a race across the field?” he asked.
“Perhaps. I assume you have terms in mind for the winner?”
“Naturally.”
She kicked her heels to urge Milady closer to Prince.
“What are they?” She was almost afraid to ask him. He’d likely take whatever else she still possessed that he had not yet ripped from her. Still…she couldn’t resist a challenge when it came from him.
