Taken by Storm by Danelle Harmon

Author:Danelle Harmon [Harmon, Danelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
ISBN: 9780380780037
Publisher: Avon
Published: 1992-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 13

The long legs. The unusually deep chest. The sloping, powerful hip, the great lay-back of the shoulder, and the speed.

Especially, the speed.

After witnessing that blistering display of pure lightning out of the courtyard, Colin now knew the truth. Shareb-er-rehh was no high-stepping riding horse. He was no carriage horse, pleasure horse, or lady’s pet.

He was a racehorse.

A damned fast racehorse.

And now, an hour and a half after he’d made his blazing escape, he was still missing.

With Colin leading Thunder and Ariadne walking on the gelding’s other side, they trudged through the drizzle, Colin tracking the stallion by his fading hoofprints, Ariadne gripping Shareb’s lead shank like a nun with her rosary beads, both of them huddled in their coats and neither of them saying much. Marc ran on ahead, chasing a rabbit, while Bow, her fur wet, tangled and muddy, trotted at Colin’s heels; every so often she, like Colin, shot a worried glance at Lady Ariadne. The little noblewoman’s face was white and strained, and only the dictates of her breeding and upbringing prevented her from giving in to the tears Colin knew lurked just beneath the surface.

It was that same threat of tears that kept him from confronting her.

No gait-horse at all, but a racehorse.

It hurt and angered him that she had lied to him. That she had not trusted him. Who did she think she was fooling? How long had she expected to keep a horse like that hidden under a disguise?

But the raw misery on her face was enough to do him in, and for now, he’d hold his tongue.

She paused for the tenth time in as many minutes to cup her hands over her mouth and call the stallion.

“Shar-e-e-e-e-e-e-eb!”

Colin stopped, too, listening to her voice echo emptily over the green hills. Only the rain answered, coming down harder now and obliterating the awful silence.

“Shar-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-eb!”

Nothing.

“Come, Ariadne. Let’s keep moving.”

Ignoring him, she called the stallion one last time, her voice rising in desperation and cracking under the strain; then she wiped at her eyes, jerked her chin up, and trudged along beside him.

“He’s gone, Colin,” she said miserably. “Someone must have stolen him and turned him in for the reward. If he was out here, he would have come to me.”

“Now, now,” Colin said soothingly, walking just to the side of the long, muddy puddles that pooled in the wheel-ruts. “We still have another two hours of daylight. And rain or not, I’m not ready to give up.”

She shot him a watery look. “Oh, Colin. . . I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’d still be dilly-dallying in London,” he teased, trying to coax some humor back into her. Bravely, she tried to smile, but he saw her face crumple, and she looked quickly away before he could witness her loss of composure.

They continued on. A black-and-maroon mail coach thundered toward them, its wheels spraying great arcs of muddy water as it tore through the puddles, the scarlet-clad guard clinging for dear life to

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