Part 31 (1/2)

”Forever,” she whispered, and pulled his head down to kiss him thoroughly. Sensations flooded her that could not be described

but hinted that a lifetime of trying might be worthwhile.

”Whoa, boy!” Rufford chortled, patting Davie on the back. ”Get thee upstairs for that sort of thing. My virgin eyes are seared with such displays of pa.s.sion.”

Davie got up and pulled Emma up beside him. He tucked her into his side. She fit well there, and the warmth of his body made

her blood rise. ”As you will.” He nodded crisply and pulled Emma toward the stairs. At the bottom, he paused. ”Consider my

duty discharged, Rufford. This is no place for my wife. You'll have to clean up the remains here yourself.”

Davie had given over duty for her sake. It was the final gift that he could give her. Emma saw Rufford grin. ”I recommend the New World,” he said. ”Plenty of room there.”

The sun was rising outside. She knew it even though the draperies of their room were pulled shut and the shutters latched against it. The world already seemed new. They had the whole day ahead of them for loving.

A forever of days.

THE FORGOTTEN ONE.

by Ronda Thompson

With love to Joanie, Teresa and Cheryl. We've had some great laughs together, girlfriends! Oh, and what the heck, to Gerry, too, who brought us all together.

Chapter One.

Blackthorn Manor, England, 1821 Lady Anne Baldwin had a reputation. And not a good one, or rather, too good of one. She was said to be kind and sweet, well mannered, and docile as a lamb for the most part. She'd tried hard her whole life to be a pleasing child to an aunt and uncle who found themselves suddenly burdened with an orphaned child when they planned to have none of their own.

But sometimes Anne did not feel like being good. Tonight was one of those times. She'd stolen from the manor house in the middle of the night to ride her horse across the moors. Something strictly forbidden to her since childhood.

A midnight ride in itself wasn't so daring, not since Blackthorn Manor in Yorks.h.i.+re was quite isolated and she doubted that she would encounter anyone... but perhaps she might encounter some thing.

It was rumored that wolves still roamed the spa.r.s.e woods surrounding Blackthorn Manor. The night was dangerous. And it was the prospect of facing it head-on that made Anne's heart pound faster, her blood sing through her veins. A wild hair had put her upon the path to rebellion. Anne had become bored with herself, and so she imagined others must find her every bit as boring.

No one had come to call on her since she took up residence at the country home. In three months' time she would turn twenty-one and not an offer for her hand on the table. It was because she was boring, Anne conceded. But she vowed she would change that... at least for one night.

The stable was dark and deserted. Anne hadn't thought to bring a candle or a lantern. Being bad was new to her, or she supposed she wouldn't have taken time to dress in a modest riding habit, stockings, and sensible boots or put her hair up. She should have crept from the house with her hair down, clad only in her nightgown. The fact that she hadn't disappointed her.

Storm, her mare, startled Anne when she nickered a greeting.

”Quiet,” Anne whispered. ”You mustn't wake the stable help. We are having an adventure.”

A bridle hung on a peg next to the stall. Even in the dark Anne had no trouble finding it, then slipping it over Storm's head. A saddle would be more difficult. She'd have to go to the tack room and probably bang about until she woke someone. Did she dare ride bareback? Doing so would also call for her riding astride.

Once, when Anne was twelve, she'd told her old groom, Barton, that she wished to ride astride like a man. Barton had nearly fallen from his own mount in shock. He'd said a young lady must never embrace a horse between her legs. He'd said it wasn't proper. But it was a night for brave deeds and Anne decided she would ride bareback. She further decided that she would do so with her hair down, clad only in her underwear.

Reaching up, she unpinned her hair, allowing the thick ma.s.s to tumble down around her shoulders. With more trepidation, she considered the b.u.t.tons down the front of her modest riding habit. She debated whether undressing might be carrying the rebellion a bit too far, then realized it was a sensible thought and she was to have none of those tonight.

After Anne rid herself of the gown, she s.h.i.+vered in the night air. Groping in the darkness, she found a bench, hiked up her petticoat, and balanced her foot on the bench. She removed her boots and rolled a delicate stocking down her leg.

She was in the process of removing the other one when she felt the first strange sensation. That of someone watching her. Gooseflesh rose on her arms. She glanced around the dark, deserted stable. Storm snorted and stomped in her stall, as if the horse also caught wind of something amiss.

”Is someone there?” Anne whispered.

No answer.

”Easy, girl,” she soothed the horse. Anne suspected the animal had sensed her own sudden unease and was simply reacting to it. She glanced around once more but saw nothing... but wait, she did see something. Along the front stalls she saw a pair of glowing eyes.

Her heart lurched. What was it? A wild animal? But it couldn't be unless it was perched upon something, for the eyes were not close to the ground but higher up. A flint struck. The small flame moved to the end of a cigarillo and for a moment too brief to identify features, revealed that the presence with her was at least a human one.

”Are you a horse thief?”

The breath Anne held escaped in a relieved sigh. ”You frightened me,” she said. Whoever the man was, she didn't recognize his voice. ”Who are you?”

He didn't answer, instead she felt as if his eyes were moving over her. Anne knew that was impossible. He surely couldn't see her any better than she could him.

”I'm the new stable master,” he finally answered.

She'd heard her uncle mention securing a new man to run his rather impressive stable. Although sheep were the best they could do in the terrain, Uncle Theodore had a weakness for horses and prided himself on having the best. Should she introduce herself to the new stable master? Manners dictated that she should, but would he tell on her? Anne knew that her guardians, the Earl and Countess, would consider her behavior tonight inexcusable. They might go so far as to ban her from the stable and riding altogether. What difference would it make if she lied? He couldn't see her.

”I am Lady Anne, ah, her maid,” she said. ”I thought I'd go for a midnight ride.”

”In nothing but skin and silk?”

Heat flooded her cheeks. How could he possibly know she wore only her unmentionables? He must have heard her moving about and somehow deduced she was undressing. ”I borrowed the lady's riding gown, but then thought better of wearing it.”

”You don't talk like a servant.”

Drat, she was as unskilled at deceit as she was at being bad. Anne should have thought to mimic the c.o.c.kney accent of most of the servants. He spoke with a different accent, as well. His words carried a soft burr. Scottish?

”My lady insists that my manners be highborn, even if I am not,” she explained.

”And where are you off to? To meet a lover? Did you undress to save time?”