The Lost Duchess of Greyden Castle by Nina Coombs Pykare

Author:Nina Coombs Pykare [Pykare, Nina Coombs]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, General, Fiction, gothic, (¯`'•.¸//(*_*)\\¸.•'´¯)
ISBN: 9780821730461
Publisher: Zebra
Published: 1990-06-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Several days passed. Richard and I still rode together in the mornings. No mention was made of the night he had left me alone. He behaved as if nothing untoward had happened and so did I. Every evening he followed me up the stairs to my room.

For my part, I was careful not to bring up the subject of Sarah, but in spite of my care—or perhaps because of it—I could feel some constraint between us. It made me uncomfortable, as if I were out of touch with some vital part of myself.

Still, I enjoyed our rides. The stallion began to respond to me, to send me a whuffled greeting when I entered the stable, to shake his mane and show his eagerness for a run. Soon now I would be able to ride alone, to roam the moor in perfect freedom. I would be glad for that, though I would miss my rides with Richard. I knew the work of the estate kept him too busy for our daily rides to continue indefinitely.

Perhaps there would be others to share the moor with on occasion. I doubted that the dowager rode, but perhaps Rosamund went out with Penrose. If she didn't, perhaps we could persuade her to ride again. And surely Roland—

I pushed the memory of his kiss out of my mind. It lingered only because it had been a mistake. My husband's kisses were far sweeter.

So I set myself to enjoy Richard's company. Truth was, I did not know quite how to conduct myself. I am not by nature a person who thinks before she speaks, so, as not to say the wrong thing, I grew rather silent, not saying much at all.

Richard remarked on this one morning as we skirted a bog.

"I hesitate to tell you,” I replied. “I do not want to make you angry with me."

He swung his horse closer to mine. Our knees touched for a moment, and he smiled at me. “Nessie, my dear, tell me. Please."

I took a deep breath. “I do not speak often because I am afraid."

He looked startled. “Of me?"

I shook my head. “Not exactly. Well, it's just—Sarah is so much on my mind that I often wish to speak other. And—"

He sighed. “And you know I do not want to hear."

I contented myself with a little nod, though many words were racing through my mind.

"You are right,” he said. “I do not wish to hear, but neither do I wish you to become silent like this. So say what you please, and I will listen to you."

Still I hesitated. “You will not leave me? As you did the other night?"

"No, Nessie. I won't leave you. The other night—it was not what you said that bothered me. It was the lullabye. I had no idea Sarah would remember it."

My nervousness transmitted itself to the stallion. He pranced about and was hard to control. For a minute I was busy with him and said nothing. But I could not stop them, the words insisted on coming out.

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