“Blasted hell.”
Chapter Three
Faith sat onthe back of a Connemara pony, one of two that had been bought specifically for her and Grace to learn how to ride on. Faith and her sisters hadn’t been able to afford lessons after their parents passed away, when they went to go live with their grandmother Alice in London. For her part, Faith had been content not to learn in her younger years. At four and twenty, Faith felt unsure that she could still learn something that most people learned during their formative years.
Graham and Hope had insisted on the lessons, though. The Connemara was considered a gentle breed for novice riders. Faith’s horse, a light palomino aptly named Sweetness, twitched its tail as they stood out before the stables of Lismore Hall the following day, waiting for Graham’s cousin, Jeanne Carlyle.
“I’m not sure what the point to this is,” Faith said nervously from her position atop Sweetness’s back, glancing at Grace. “I’m perfectly happy not knowing how to ride.”
“As am I, but it is what is expected of well-bred ladies,” her younger sister said softly, her gaze on Hope and Graham as they moved about on their own horses several yards away.
“I’d rather be painting. I’ve just started a new work, a landscape of the loch.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, and it would be far more enjoyable to me than traipsing about the Highlands on this tiny horse.”
“Faith, it’s a kind gesture by our brother-in-law to provide us with the horses and the lessons. Hope would be pleased to no end knowing that we enjoyed them.”
“But we don’t enjoy them.”
“Hush, here they come,” Grace said before looking up with a broad smile plastered on her face. “A fine day for a ride!”
“Yes, particularly since we were rained out yesterday,” Graham said. “I’m still amazed you were so drenched, Faith.”
Faith had left a track of wet footprints through the foyer and up the stairs yesterday after returning from her unexpected encounter with Logan. Evidently, Graham had nearly slipped. She gave him an apologetic look.
“I am sorry for the mess.”
“It’s of no matter,” Graham said, turning his face to the sky. “But I believe the weather will hold out today.”
“I think so as well,” Hope said.
Faith sighed, noting Hope’s happiness as she gazed at her husband’s profile. The two were constantly doting on one another, which always made Faith uncomfortable to witness. In her experience, men were not to be trusted, and while Graham had thus far proved to be an excellent husband, save that whole nonsense about tricking Hope into marrying him, Faith couldn’t help but remain skeptical.
“’Allo!” The sweet sound of Jeanne’s voice carried on the wind.
Everyone turned to see a smartly dressed, coppered-headed woman riding quickly up the drive. Dressed in her favorite striped pattern, Jeanne Carlyle beamed as she reached them, riding upon a frightening black steed.
“My! What a darling pair of ponies, cousin,” she said breathlessly, addressing Graham first. “They’re as lovely as you described them, Hope.”
“Aren’t they?” She beamed. “Faith and Grace adore them.”
“Is that so?” Jeanne said, her knowing observation landing on Faith, who nodded politely. Jeanne had the uncanny ability to see through people; to Faith’s dismay, she winked. “Well, then. Shall we start?”
Turning her horse to the side, Jeanne reared back and let out a rough “Yah” as the black stallion neighed. She took off at a frightening speed.
Faith’s heart fell into her stomach. No, this was not how she wished to spend her day. She’d much rather paint these beasts than ride them. She had a soft spot for equine artwork. But with Hope’s encouraging smile, Faith forced herself to smile and fell into line behind Jeanne.
For nearly two hours, the company rode on grass roads and muddy paths, through fields and forests, up craigs, and down into valleys. It was a trying experience, and Faith was surprised by how much her entire body began to ache. Her sides, in particular, became more sore the longer they rode. It was truly a laborious experience.
After another hour or so, she trotted in tandem with Jeanne as they climbed a particularly uneven stretch of ground leading up to Stob Ridge, which overlooked the northern part of Loch Fyne.
Evidently, Faith’s face showed her discomfort.
“Not your cup of tea, is it?” Jeanne asked as the two settled into the back of the line.
Faith gave her an apologetic look.
