Her secret smile lingered. “It’s not a finishing school, and with Amelia selling her paintings, if I were to breed horses, I fear the ton would shun us all.” She shook her head. “No, I will have to keep it a secret. Maybe I should search in Scotland for such a place to spare my family.”
Her usual self-sacrificing mode of thought irritated him. While courting her, he thought it charming and exactly what he wanted in a wife. But now, knowing how she’d wed, he wanted her to be happy doing what she pleased. He stilled at the thought. Her happiness had become his primary concern. When had that happened? When he’d come home broken and battered? No. Later, when he discovered his injuries were far deeper than he’d known. It had been the driving force that had sent him into hiding.
“Lord Blackmore?”
He shook his head, startled from his reverie by her voice. “Yes.”
“I asked if your southern path was still kept cleared.”
“Yes, it is. My brother kept all the riding paths cleared for me.”
Her brow furrowed. “So your brother knew you were alive? I thought you said no one knew.”
Too late, he realized his error. “No one but my brother. But even he continuously tried to persuade me to tell my parents.”
“Why didn’t you? Was hiding from me so important that you hurt your parents?”
Now he looked like the worst son. He should be happy she thought ill of him, but his very being rebelled at the idea. “It was far more complicated. Once I was healed and was sure that I would live beyond a few months, I did meet with my father. He decided not to tell my mother as she had been so distraught by my death.” He didn’t explain that his father saw no need for her to know about him since the Stratton line wouldn’t continue through him.
“I see.” She turned away, clearly not happy with him.
He didn’t want her to be disappointed in him. He’d done everything right, yet it felt as if he’d done some horrible wrong for fate to deal him such a terrible blow. He reached out his hand to touch her, but dropped it as Mr. Clancy walked Freesia out of the stable. “Here you are, my lord. She’s itching for a good run, she is. Better show her who’s in charge.”
He strode past Mariel and took the reins, his frustration communicating itself to Freesia. “Don’t I always?” The mare stepped back and he forced himself to focus on his animal, stroking her and taking deeper breaths himself.
“That be true.” Mr. Clancy ambled over to Mariel. “Need a hand up, my lady?”
He couldn’t help watching Mariel mount into the side saddle. Her grace and confidence proving her abilities had not lessened over the years. She caught him watching and shook her head. “You dally, my lord. I shall see you at the head of the southern path.” Then with no warning, she set Atalanta into motion.
Not to be outdone, he mounted. “Come, Freesia. We can catch them.” He flicked the reins and they were off, cantering around the gardens until they hit the open field where he gave Freesia her head. The full out race restored his humors especially as they gained on Mariel.
Memories of chasing her across Silver Meadows burst upon him. She’d ride out straight then pull up behind trees, a statue, or some other object, and he’d lose her for a moment. Just long enough for her to race off, her laughter coming to him on the wind.
Now there was no laughter, and she pulled ahead a full length, but they neared the path and would need to slow. But she was hell bent on reaching the opening before him. “Mariel!” He shouted to warn her about the low hanging branch, but she continued on, plastering herself to her horse’s back at the last moment, avoiding injury.
“Fool woman.” Not taking any chances, he slowed Freesia and ducked beneath the branch, half expecting to find her lying on the path ahead, but as he entered the forest, she was nowhere in sight. She couldn’t have taken the path at such a speed, could she?
Chapter Seven
Her heart racingwith her near-miss, Mariel smiled, her horse racing down the path she remembered. Coming around a corner in the tree lined trail, a tree up ahead lay across it. “Come Atalanta. Let’s jump that minor obstruction.” Their pace was perfect and as they sailed over the tree trunk, she felt as if she were flying. Exhilaration far beyond words pounded through her veins. Landing perfectly, Atalanta raced on.
Despite her complete joy in the ride, she took care of her horses and slowed Atalanta to a trot, well aware that there was a fork in the path up ahead. Was the old Grecian temple to the left, or right? Trying to imagine it in her mind, she slowed as she reached the spot. She could wait for Marcus, but her irritation with him couldn’t be erased in a simple ride through the wood. Making her decision, she took the left path and walked Atalanta along it, allowing her mount to cool down.
Just as she thought she may have to turn back, she spotted her destination through the trees and followed the path around to the overgrown circular structure. Dismounting, she left her horse loose to find what she could to eat and walked to the old temple. Years ago, when Marcus had first shown her the marble temple, it had been bathed in sunlight, but the trees had grown up around it, leaving it to the smattering of light that made it through the leaves. The vines had been left to run amok, up the twelve marble columns and over the top.
The leaves on the vines were yet small, and she walked up the three steps of the base and between two columns. “Oh, my.” The beauty from inside was breathtaking. In a couple more weeks, the vine leaves would make solid walls of the circular structure, but now the forest light dappled the mosaic floor. Looking up, she grinned at the cupid painting on the domed ceiling. What would Amelia say about that particular piece of artwork?
“Mariel?”
Her heart raced at Marcus’ call, but she quickly remembered this was no game of hide and seek where a kiss would be forfeited should he find her. They had left those days behind forever. He shouldn’t use her given name. It made her remember how perfect it used to be. “I’m here, Lord Blackmore, in the temple.” That should set the ground rules for their new awkward relationship.
There was a quiet thump as his feet hit the ground. She moved to the far side of the temple, but as he strode up the steps and came into view, a rush of memories filled her of the last time they’d been there, when her knees had buckled at the kiss he’d given her. It had been her first passionate kiss, not the chaste ones they’d exchanged quickly among the gardens.
His broad shoulders brushed the tiny leaves as he entered, like her, taking in the overgrown temple in a quick scan. “This has changed much over the years.”
“Much has changed.” She needed to put some distance between them. The temple suddenly felt far too small with the vegetation encroaching.
His gaze snapped to hers. “Yes, much has changed and grown.”
