The Sherbrooke Bride - Catherine Coulter [53]
The devil would very soon be after her. Douglas was so furious, so disbelieving of what she’d done to him, that for an instant, he was overwhelmed with the force of his rage. He drew a deep breath, removed Garth from his stall, put a bridle on him and swung up onto his bare back.
He would, quite simply, kill her once he caught up to her.
Alex continued to ride like the devil. She was an excellent horsewoman and the feel of the horse against her thighs and bottom gave her a feeling of great control, much more so than the decorous sidesaddles society had forced upon females.
She pressed her face against Fanny’s neck, holding her legs close against the mare’s sides and whispering encouragement. The mare quickened her pace. Her neck felt warm against Alexandra’s cheek, warm and alive and the mare was giving all she had. She was smooth-paced and fast as the wind and Alex simply gave her her head.
It was a good five minutes before it occurred to her to question what she was going to do. Fury, humiliation, and a profound acceptance of having lost, with no more recourse available, had doused her like a flood of cold water, and she’d acted without thought. It took only another minute to hear the thudding hooves of Garth coming after her.
The stallion was fast, no doubt about that, strong and fast, but not brutal, not like his master would be if he caught her. But why was he coming after her? Was it his male pride? His arrogance that no one should act without his precious Lordship’s permission?
Alex shook her head against Fanny’s neck. She wouldn’t think about him, about his motives. It was true, she didn’t want to do this; she didn’t want to run away by herself, a female alone and thus vulnerable to every villain on the English roads. But she wasn’t stupid. She fully intended to ride only at night and hide during the three and a half days it would take her to get back home. She had ten pounds of Douglas’s money, surely enough to feed herself. No, she wasn’t stupid. She would be very careful. Perhaps that was why Douglas was riding after her. Men gave women no measure of credit for accomplishing anything on their own. He probably saw her riding into the midst of thieves, heedless, reckless, unthinking. He probably thought his reputation would be damaged if something happened to his wife—she still was his wife. Ah yes, if something happened to his runaway wife. Such an eventuality would harm his pride, make his gentlemen friends raise their brows.
The rain came down quite suddenly, in thick cold sheets, washing away her body warmth and her thoughts in an instant. She gasped aloud. She hadn’t counted on rain in her plans. She hadn’t even thought about the possibility of rain. Perhaps Douglas was right; perhaps she was stupid.
Alexandra shook her head. What was a little rain? She wasn’t a bolt of silk to fade and unravel. No, she would be fine. In all her eighteen years she’d never known a day’s illness. Yes, she would be just fine if she managed to elude Douglas.
He was closer. She sensed him, she heard Garth’s hooves. She turned to see him coming around a curve in the road, just as she went around a blind curve herself. It was her chance, perhaps her only chance. She quickly turned Fanny off the road into a copse of maple trees. She slid off Fanny’s back and quickly pressed her nostrils together with her fingers to prevent her from whinnying to Garth. She held her breath.
Douglas passed by. He was riding hard. He looked magnificent on Garth’s broad back, strong and determined even under the bowing rain, a man to trust and admire. And she would have admired him if she hadn’t wanted to massacre him so badly.
Good, she’d fooled him. The rain was not quite so dense because the thickly splayed maple leaves slowed it. Alex patted Fanny’s neck.
“We’ll be all right, my girl. I’m not stupid and I won’t abuse you. I am self-reliant and even though I haven’t seen all that much of the world, I still know how to go on. We will be safe. You will like the stables at Claybourn, for they’re very nearly empty