For the First Time Read Free Page B

Here she was free to be herself, and no one judged her. She could roam the beach, swim in the tide, rather than simply “bathe” in it as the fashionable ladies in Brighton did. She could speak her mind and people listened, because in Miles’s absence, she was essentially lord here. No woman in her right mind would give up such freedom willingly.
    She would rather die than return to London, where every move a person made was watched and discussed endlessly in the scandal sheets. Somehow some of them had found out about the fiasco with Carny and had depicted her as some kind of hulking monster both in picture and prose. Even worse were the ones that claimed to sympathize with her and made her seem a hapless victim.
    It had taken months for her to realize she was neither. Realizing she wasn’t a victim had come first. The monster bit had taken longer for her to reconcile. It was very difficult to convince oneself that something wasn’t true when one was terribly, awfully certain that it was.
    As she entered the Brixleigh stables—her eyes adjusting to the change in the light and her nose picking up the welcome, familiar scent of horse and hay—she noticed a strange horse in one of the stalls. That was nothing unusual, as most guests brought their own horses, whether for carriages orpleasure riding. What was unusual about this horse was his sheer size.
    “Would you like me to take care of Mari for you, my lady?”
    “Yes, thank you,” Blythe replied, handing the groom Marigold’s reins. Normally she rubbed the mare down herself, but she was anxious for a better look at this new horse. She had never seen anything quite like him before. It was almost as if he was studying her, as interested in her appearance as she was in his.
    “Tom, the big gray down there, who does it belong to?”
    The young groom glanced in the direction Blythe pointed and shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Don’t know, my lady. Must’ve come in when I wasn’t here.”
    Intrigued, Blythe walked toward the stall where the strange horse stood. The scent of warm horse and manure met her nostrils as she breathed. There was something comforting in these smells that, while pungent, were infinitely more pleasant than some parts of London she had visited. Poverty and human waste had a repellent odor that no animal could match.
    The gray watched curiously as Blythe climbed onto the first rung of the paddock door.
    “There. Now I can get a good look at you.” Blythe held out her hand. “Come here, sweetie. I will not hurt you.”
    The horse lowered his broad nose to her hand, flicking it softly with pink lips. He was deceptively—surprisingly—gentle.
    “Lord, but you’re big.” The white blaze running up the gray’s forehead was soft and smooth beneath her palm, his muzzle dwarfing her hand. Large dark eyes stared at her with as much curiosity as Blythe felt. Such soulful eyes for an animal.
    “He’s not used to women.”
    Blythe started. Turning her head toward the voice, shewatched as a man came out of the dimness further down the corridor. He was obviously the owner of this magnificent beast. She would have guessed that even if he hadn’t spoken.
    Horse and master suited each other. Neither was classically handsome, but both possessed a certain attractiveness. Both were long of limb and broad through the chest. Each was also incredibly tall. Standing on the stall door, Blythe was approximately six inches off the ground—eye level with the stranger, who watched her with eyes just as dark as his horse’s.
    How had he known she was a woman? He must have heard her voice. Normally people who saw her dressed this way just assumed she was a man.
    “He’s incredible.” She glanced back at the horse who stood stock-still beneath her caressing hand. “What is he?”
    The man shrugged his broad shoulders and smiled, his thin lips tipping crookedly. “I do not know. I bought him off an Irishman who didn’t seem to know either.”
    Blythe peered