Page 103 of The Viscount's Seduction
“Having a nice conversation, we are.” She didn’t look at either of them.
She’d worked with horses all her life, he told himself. She could handle this one—was handling this one.
“You’ve calmed her.”
“I’m glad you’ve brought two of the horses back. This one I don’t know.” She smoothed her hand down the horse’s shoulder. “Does she have a name?”
“Not as I know.”
“Banshee would do,” she said. “She’s a flighty, complaining one. You have a devil in you, do you not, my girl?”
“Yes, indeed she does. I won her at cards last night from a fellow who was pockets to let and happy to be rid of her. As I will be when I can get her over to Tattersalls.”
She paused again and still wouldn’t look at him. “I should like you to keep her.”
“And I should like you to leave her to one of the grooms. In fact, I’m wondering why my wife, who has a grand ball to host in a day, is in the stable brushing a wild mare who won’t be ridden.”
Her hand paused again, and he saw a tremble. “I’ve barely touched a horse in so many months. Will you take this away from me then?”
The catch in her voice sent a wave of guilt washing over him.
But she was his to protect. “Sirena, this horse is dangerous. You know this.”
“Aye.” She made another pass with the comb and turned to him, cheeks pink and eyes glowing. “I don’t need a gentle, safe beast. There’d be no challenge to that.”
He blinked. A gentle, safe beast. A boring husband.
“And I will ride her one day,” Sirena said. “She and I are coming to an agreement about it.” She patted the horse’s neck. “Though she knows we likely can’t be together every day as I’d wish.”
Jealousy flared in him and he pushed it back immediately. This was a horse.A horse, not a man she was talking about.
Boring though he might be, she was stuck with him. And he would win her, somehow.
Wisps of hair protruded from the cap she’d pulled on. The horse snorted and nosed her arm, and cold fear ran through him. The beast could snap one of her bones so easily. Behind him he heard the creak of leather as the boy readied Lightning.
“I’ll have Pooka brought up from Kent and trained to the side saddle for you.”
She threw him a glance. “Sure, and I can manage the side saddle, but astride suits me better.”
“Perhaps when we’re home at Cransdall. But in town—”
“Do not the grooms take them out early to run in the park?”
Whisk, whisk, whisk.
His wife, riding astride, in London, dressed as a groom, for surely that was what she was planning. And he’d never allow it.
“You could go out of a morning with a groom.” She turned a baleful look on him. “That is if you’ve bothered to come home the night before.”
The horse snorted and ducked her head, as if agreeing, and Bakeley fought a smile. Now they were down to it. “I was hunting for Hollister last night,” he said, keeping his voice low.
“I see.”
“I must go out again. Shall we chat when I come back?”
“If I have time. I’m to be at home today for callers.”
“Come away from that horse, love.”
