Georgie Lee by Heros Redemption

Author:Heros Redemption
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

The horses’ hooves clomped over the compacted earth as Devon and Cathleen guided the animals away from the stable and into the woods. A sharp chill hung in the air and stray patches of morning fog drifted in the small dips and crevices along the riding path. Overhead, heavy gray clouds lined with white drifted by, occasionally obscuring the low morning sun.

Cathleen sat on top of a white gelding, taking a deep breath of the morning cold ripe with the must of fallen leaves and cut grass. A small bird winged down in front of her and landed in a tree on the other side of the path. She watched it hop along a twisted branch, trying to remember the last time she’d enjoyed a crisp country morning.

“You ride very well,” Devon remarked from beside her, his large tan stallion twitching its ears. Devon’s shoulders, normally rigid, looked relaxed beneath the black wool riding coat and his hands rested lightly on his thighs. Dark circles hung under his eyes, which crinkled at the corners with the happy smile brightening his face. Tiredness lingered in her body too, but she wouldn’t have traded the hours of his caresses for sleep, not for a king’s ransom.

“Thank you.” Cathleen stroked the gelding’s neck. “I used to ride a great deal before I was married.”

“Good.” Devon twirled the riding crop in his fingers then tucked it under his arm. “Then you’ll have no trouble keeping up.”

“None at all.”

She kicked her horse into a run, exhilarated by the frosty wind stinging her cheeks. Devon brought his horse even with hers, the animals’ heads and hooves moving in near rhythm. Then Devon pulled ahead, tossing a wide smile over his shoulder, and she prodded the gelding into a faster run, determined to keep up.

They broke from the woods, startling birds and rabbits before slowing as they approached the first small hill. Pulling their horses into a walk, Devon led them along a well-worn path, past pastures of grazing sheep and fields of growing grain.

“I love Malton Hall at this time of year.” He swept one hand toward a field of tall grass swaying in the breeze.

“It’s beautiful land.”

“I have plans for it. One is a new system of crop rotation, the other is draining the marsh just over the ridge.” He pointed his riding crop at a distant hill traced by a low stone wall.

“That’s quite an expensive undertaking.”

“But necessary. The tenants believe it’s the source of the yearly summer fever but Father never listened to them.”

“What convinced you?”

“I saw how Napoleon curtailed fever in France by draining marshes. I hope to achieve the same results while providing more farm land.”

“I’m impressed,” she said. “I doubt any other Lord knows so much about his own lands.”

“Keeping busy helped distract me from other things.”

“I understand. I used to mix new ointments and oils as a way to pass the long hours.” She adjusted the reins in her hands. “I have an excellent liniment for sore muscles.”

“Another

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