Dark Splendor by Andrea Parnell Page A

pleasant ride. But even
as he stood conversing politely, he seemed to be chuckling under
his breath.
    Smiling, Silvia took her leave, and nodding
her head in a gesture of thanks, hurried away. Behind her Morgan
resumed his restless pacing of the terrace.
    The sun filled her room with brightness and
heat at midday. Oddly it gave the vivid greens in the room a cool
look that was delightfully refreshing. Reluctantly she drew the
heavy draperies, changing the room to a dark, murky green. The air
became close and still and suddenly she felt as if she were sinking
to the liquid green depths of the ocean.
    It was a hazy, pleasant sensation and she
smiled languidly as she removed the blue silk dress and loosened
the laces around her waist. She was happy, she realized, pulling
back the covers on the bed. A subtle change had taken place within
her, an acceptance of her surroundings and circumstances. And
something more, an emotion welling inside, as yet undefined but
capable of bringing a rising excitement to her heart.
    It was good she had not expected to sleep,
because suddenly she was a little girl filled with eagerness and
excitement, a little girl having all her dreams and fantasies come
true. Even her chagrin that it was Roman Toller who had elicited
such intense feeling from her was only a momentary annoyance.
    After tossing about on the bed for a few
minutes, it was obvious she would get no rest. She deemed her time
would be better spent seeing if the riding habit fit. Thirty
minutes later she was outfitted and walking down the lane in front
of the castle.
    The path to the stable was a lovely twisting
trail lined with oleander bushes. She gave a philosophic little
shrug. The house had been quiet when she left. All the servants
were busy doing Martha’s bidding, and Morgan was nowhere to be
found. It was remarkable to her that a household staff which must
be large to be efficient could function totally out of sight. For
with the exception of Vivien and Anna and the maid who had served
the meals, she had not seen another servant since her arrival.
    She found the stable to be a long, low
building made of shell and mortar. It was flanked by paddocks and
one end appeared to be used as a carriage house. She saw two horses
saddled and tied to a hitching post out front, one a large roan
gelding and the other a bay mare with a sidesaddle.
    Talking softly, Silvia slowly approached the
horses. She had owned a pony in her childhood and ridden every day
until she had gone to live with her aunt and uncle. How wonderful
it would be to have horses at her disposal and to be able to ride
whenever she wished.
    The little mare snorted and stomped her feet
when Silvia drew near.
    “Hello, pretty lady,” she whispered,
reaching out to stroke a nose soft and brown as moleskin. The mare
snorted again and gently nudged Silvia’s arm.
    “She’s telling you she likes to be rubbed
between the ears.” Roman came out of a carriage well and walked up
behind Silvia before she knew he was nearby.
    She spun around at the sound of his voice.
He, like Eric and Morgan, had discarded his coat and wore a
loose-fitting white shirt. The front fastened with laces and he had
left it open in a way that virtually bared his chest. The unknotted
leather cords that might have pulled the garment modestly together
swung carelessly loose as he swaggered toward her, the flexing and
tightening of each muscle evident through chamois breeches fitted
tightly on his thighs. His riding boots, like her own, were of
brown leather and extended to his knees.
    His skin had turned golden from a morning in
the sun. A few strands of fair hair escaped the tie at his nape and
hung free around his face. Silvia clasped her hands together,
fighting an urge to tuck those strands neatly back in place. He
moved in such an easy, careless way, she suspected his walk was
meant to be deliberately provocative. His eyes glowed with
enjoyment, and he used, like a weapon, the disarming grin