inside. She gave a stifled gasp and felt
her body mold against him. The sudden awareness of her limbs made
her long for something more. Her hands reached up around his
neck.
Then, without warning, he abruptly ended the
kiss and pushed her away.
“I understand you better now than I ever did
before. Like a child, you only want what you cannot have.”
She shook her head and tried to move back
into his arms, but he kept her away.
“Well, your ‘gentle Henry’ is gone,” he said
mockingly. “He was just a fool who treated you like a rare and
delicate flower, but found himself stung by those fair petals.” He
pushed her farther away, his voice hardening. “You chose your way
six months ago. Marry your Englishman and finish what you have
begun. I wish you all the worldly treasures you were born and
brought up to possess, but leave me be.”
In an instant, he was gone.
Clara stared in shock for a long moment at
the closed door, and then turned to the wall. Standing alone, she
wept bitter tears of anguish for the one true love she had so
stupidly thrown away.
***
Her mount was indeed a fine one, and well
accustomed to the soft turf and uneven terrain of the Irish
countryside. And Jane was the rider to handle her.
For a quarter of an hour, the woman led him
on a merry chase. Up hill and down. With her black hair streaming
wildly behind her, she leaped streams and ditches and hedgerows
with stunning ease and grace.
The pace she set made it impossible for
Nicholas to talk to this fiend of a horsewoman. If the ground
leveled out into a smooth green meadow, she was sure to cut away to
some higher passage where the sharp edges of white rock protruded
from the hillside, endangering both horse and rider.
Emerging from a broad, fast-running stream
that left him half a field behind her, Nicholas shook his head at
her spirit. He had to give her credit. Jane Purefoy successfully
used every racing ploy known to slow him down and create distance
between them. She might have been forced to take him along, but
that didn’t mean that she had to endure his company. At the top of
the next hill, Nicholas saw Jane rein in her steed, and he quickly
closed the distance between them.
Her cheeks were flushed with health, and she
turned slightly in the saddle, black eyes flashing, her chest
heaving from the exertion of the ride.
Nicholas didn’t think he’d ever seen a more
magnificent site.
She looked away as he rode up to her. The
Awbeg came into view. There, along the steep green banks of
meandering river, he saw the buildings and broken walls of an abbey
and the neat little village just to the north.
“You should be able to find the main
thoroughfare through Buttevant with no difficulty,” she said,
uttering her first words since leaving Clara at Ballyclough.
“What are those two towers?” Nicholas
pointed interestedly in the direction of the village. He was
searching for a way to detain her.
“The ruins of Lombard’s Castle.”
He noticed the activity beyond it. “And what
is being built beyond the town.”
“A barracks to house troops.”
“I see.” he raised a curious brow. “Well,
that should discourage rebellion, I should think.”
“With that thought, Sir Nicholas, I take my
leave of you.”
“I thought you planned to visit a friend
here yourself.”
“I do, but she doesn’t live in the village
proper. She lives close by, though.” Jane gestured in the vague
direction of the abbey. “But the village has an inn and a number of
shops and a couple of very fine stables to wile away your time. I
shall come after you when I’ve finished my business.”
She started along the ridge following the
river, but stopped and turned sharply to him when he started to
follow.
“That way.” She pointed toward the village.
“You go that way. That will take you where you want to go.”
“Would you at least tell me who it is that
you are visiting? Just in case I become lost and in need of
her body mold against him. The sudden awareness of her limbs made
her long for something more. Her hands reached up around his
neck.
Then, without warning, he abruptly ended the
kiss and pushed her away.
“I understand you better now than I ever did
before. Like a child, you only want what you cannot have.”
She shook her head and tried to move back
into his arms, but he kept her away.
“Well, your ‘gentle Henry’ is gone,” he said
mockingly. “He was just a fool who treated you like a rare and
delicate flower, but found himself stung by those fair petals.” He
pushed her farther away, his voice hardening. “You chose your way
six months ago. Marry your Englishman and finish what you have
begun. I wish you all the worldly treasures you were born and
brought up to possess, but leave me be.”
In an instant, he was gone.
Clara stared in shock for a long moment at
the closed door, and then turned to the wall. Standing alone, she
wept bitter tears of anguish for the one true love she had so
stupidly thrown away.
***
Her mount was indeed a fine one, and well
accustomed to the soft turf and uneven terrain of the Irish
countryside. And Jane was the rider to handle her.
For a quarter of an hour, the woman led him
on a merry chase. Up hill and down. With her black hair streaming
wildly behind her, she leaped streams and ditches and hedgerows
with stunning ease and grace.
The pace she set made it impossible for
Nicholas to talk to this fiend of a horsewoman. If the ground
leveled out into a smooth green meadow, she was sure to cut away to
some higher passage where the sharp edges of white rock protruded
from the hillside, endangering both horse and rider.
Emerging from a broad, fast-running stream
that left him half a field behind her, Nicholas shook his head at
her spirit. He had to give her credit. Jane Purefoy successfully
used every racing ploy known to slow him down and create distance
between them. She might have been forced to take him along, but
that didn’t mean that she had to endure his company. At the top of
the next hill, Nicholas saw Jane rein in her steed, and he quickly
closed the distance between them.
Her cheeks were flushed with health, and she
turned slightly in the saddle, black eyes flashing, her chest
heaving from the exertion of the ride.
Nicholas didn’t think he’d ever seen a more
magnificent site.
She looked away as he rode up to her. The
Awbeg came into view. There, along the steep green banks of
meandering river, he saw the buildings and broken walls of an abbey
and the neat little village just to the north.
“You should be able to find the main
thoroughfare through Buttevant with no difficulty,” she said,
uttering her first words since leaving Clara at Ballyclough.
“What are those two towers?” Nicholas
pointed interestedly in the direction of the village. He was
searching for a way to detain her.
“The ruins of Lombard’s Castle.”
He noticed the activity beyond it. “And what
is being built beyond the town.”
“A barracks to house troops.”
“I see.” he raised a curious brow. “Well,
that should discourage rebellion, I should think.”
“With that thought, Sir Nicholas, I take my
leave of you.”
“I thought you planned to visit a friend
here yourself.”
“I do, but she doesn’t live in the village
proper. She lives close by, though.” Jane gestured in the vague
direction of the abbey. “But the village has an inn and a number of
shops and a couple of very fine stables to wile away your time. I
shall come after you when I’ve finished my business.”
She started along the ridge following the
river, but stopped and turned sharply to him when he started to
follow.
“That way.” She pointed toward the village.
“You go that way. That will take you where you want to go.”
“Would you at least tell me who it is that
you are visiting? Just in case I become lost and in need of
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