she felt a vibration, soft at first, then stronger as if a hundred drums beat beneath the sod. The hard gallop of a horse grew louder, and before she could move from the rider’s path, he crested the hill. Startled, she turned and threw her back against the tree. The horse, black and large, reared and curvetted, having too been startled by her presence and the violent pull of its rider. It whinnied, blew out its nostrils, and pawed the mossy earth.
The rider swung down from the saddle and approached her. A thump in her chest snatched her breath and she placed her hands behind her to feel the safety of the tree.
“Are you all right?” Standing but a yard away, he breathed hard.
She nodded. “I believe so.”
“I was unaware anyone would be here.”
“I was unaware anyone would be riding so fiercely toward me.”
The regret in his eyes deepened. “Please forgive me. You could have been hurt.”
Darcy gazed at him, and then checked her winsome expression. “You did not know, sir.”
“That is no excuse for me not to have been more careful. At least allow me to take you back down. The horse may look fierce, but he is harmless.”
She glanced at the fearsome stallion. “By the size of him, and the way he behaves, I doubt your word.”
“Doubt it, but just the same, he is gentle. I am considering buying him from the Rhendons to take back to England.”
“His gentleness is not proven by how unsettled he appears. I hear they have a fine gray in the stable which would give no trouble.”
The gentleman’s countenance eased and he inclined his head. She knew what he interpreted in her comment—that his judgment was weak—and felt her face flush.
“I have plans to buy a mare as well. You could give me your opinion.”
“I am not that astute when it comes to buying horses.”
“Well, at least let me take you back.”
“I am able to find the way myself.” She smiled and walked away knowing he watched her go. She glanced back at him over her shoulder. “Thank you for not running me over.” She hurried away, down the hill, skipping at places.
“But what is your name?” he called.
Forcing herself not to look back at him again, she did not answer. A smile brightened her face and laughter rose in her throat. He would have to make inquiries to discover who she was.
Taken off guard by the opinionated female, Ethan stared after Darcy as she descended the grassy field toward the house. His eyes followed the twists of her hair, how it tumbled about her shoulders down to her waist, how it caught the sunlight. Miss Roth wore her hair parted in the center in tight corkscrew curls. He found it stiff and unnatural, something a man dare not reach out and touch. She would not permit it. He did not desire it.
As for this girl, he could run his fingers through her hair if she permitted him. “Who are you, that God would put you straight into my path?” A brave and spirited one, for she had not screamed nor fainted when he came upon her.
He thrust his boot into the stirrup and swung into the saddle. The girl with the high spirits and flowing hair disquieted Ethan, and as he moved the horse on, he watched her walking in the distance. She bent down, her gown clinging to her well-formed legs as she plucked a dandelion from the ground.
3
Dar—cy! Mar—tha!” Mari Breese waved her handkerchief as if she were swatting a fly. “Come away from there at once and join us.”
If only her aunt would not call to her, wave to her in such a flustered way, then people would not be staring and drawing conclusions. A few more paces down the hill and Darcy met Martha.
“I wish Mother would be more reserved,” Martha said, walking alongside Darcy. “Everyone is looking at us.”
“She means well. She’s a mother hen who likes her chicks around her, you know. Besides, not everyone is looking. Just that group of ladies and gentlemen within earshot.”
“Well, that is enough, I’d say. I am glad you are back. My sisters left me alone, and I grew worried about you.”
Darcy smiled as she recalled the rider’s astonished look when he happened upon her. “I returned as I left you—even though the Englishman nearly ran me over with one of Twin Oaks’ horses.”
Martha gasped. “The English gentleman?”
Darcy nodded. “Yes, the English gentleman.”
“He is reckless, Darcy, and obviously has no