A Midsummer Bride by Amanda Forester

Author:Amanda Forester
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, Historical Romance, England, Love Story, Regency Romance
ISBN: 9781402271816
Publisher: Sourcebooks Casablanca
Published: 2012-12-31T14:00:00+00:00

Twenty-three

Despite an odd feeling of being off-balance whenever Lord Thornton was near, Harriet was looking forward to the promised horseback ride. She also had a growing suspicion that something peculiar was happening at the supposedly unlivable castle. Workmen passed her makeshift chemistry laboratory, but where they went and why they were there she could not say. Something was amiss at the castle and she was going to find out what.

“Where are the horses?” Harriet asked Thornton when he emerged from the morning mist in the castle courtyard as she expected.

“Horses?” asked Thornton innocently, as if unfamiliar with the concept. “Good morning, Miss Redgrave. I thought we would meet down in the stables for our ride.”

“Odd,” commented Harriet. “It smells like the stables are right here.”

“Must be the wind.”

Harriet shook her head. “Wind is coming from the east, not from below. There must be horses nearby.”

Thornton scratched the back of his neck. “Sometimes the crofters stable their horses here. There may be some in the keep.” Thornton spoke casually, as if the subject could be of no importance. “The horses here coud’na interest ye. Let us go to the stables.”

“Nonsense! I wish to see these beasts with which I share the castle. I have smelled them, sometimes even heard them, but never seen them.” She wanted to know what Thornton was hiding in the castle.

Thornton began to walk toward the stables below, but Harriet proceeded to the wooden door of the castle keep instead. He turned and hustled to catch up with her.

“I confess I have been interested to see what was locked in here. Do you have a key? Oh, of course you do, since you were on your way there anyway,” said Harriet. She ignored the voices of her mum, Penelope, and the dowager who were all chastising her for being unladylike. This was no time for propriety. This was a mystery!

He stood before the padlocked door, his mouth a thin line. He surveyed her closely as if weighing her worth. With a sigh, he pulled a key from his pocket and turned the lock. He unfastened the door and swung it open without a word.

They stepped inside and Harriet was amazed at the sight before her. The keep had been transformed into stables in four neat rows of stalls. The horses in the stalls were thoroughbreds, the finest of the species she had ever seen. The stables themselves had been built recently, with quality in mind. Each stall had a name carved in wood on the outside of the door. Nearby, a handful of stable lads were grooming horses, mucking out stalls, or putting up hay.

These were not a few old nags owned by crofters—this was a highly skilled operation. She walked up to the first stall to a chestnut brown horse aptly named Charger. He was a fine piece, muscular and lean. He swished his tail and his skin twitched over his rippling muscles. He was quite fine indeed. All the horses were spectacular.

She swirled to face him.

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