The male, Ember, was far more reclusive than his counterpart. Olivia had only caught glimpses of him, and those from a great distance. He was both larger and darker than Ginger, and every year – including this one – he passed his luxurious coat onto at least one of his offspring.
A luxurious coat that was now in danger of being hung on some awful lord’s wall.
When she heard the exhilarated bay of the hounds, dread settled in the bottom of her belly as she urged her loyal mare for even more speed. Together, they flew through the woods, twisting their way through brambles and birches at a breakneck pace in an attempt to cut the fox chase off at the top of the long, sprawling field where Ember liked to catch mice and voles and other small game to bring back to his family. The place where he was used to being the hunter… and was now the hunted.
Shifting her weight into her left stirrup to help Delphine balance around a sharp turn to the right, Olivia felt a sweet wave of relief as she spied the field through a clearing up ahead and saw that the hounds and riders were still at the bottom, having not yet crested the peak and spilled onto the other side. But her comfort was short lived, for along the wood line, running for hislife, she saw the unmistakable burnt orange of Ember’s coat as he frantically tried to outrun the pack of two dozen bloodthirsty hounds and cowardly men with guns.
“Faster,” she pleaded with Delphine. “Please, go as fast as you can.”
As if the mare could understand her words – and perhaps she very well could – she went beyond a gallop to a rate that Olivia hadn’t even known existed. United as one, they dashed under branches, whipped around corners, leapt over a fallen tree… and nearly crashed headfirst into Hoyt and his black gelding.
Olivia’s scream intermingled with Hoyt’s shout of alarm as their horses swerved in opposite directions. Miraculously, they both stayed astride and managed to rein their startled horses into dual sliding stops beside each other.
“You,” they said in unison.
“Me?”
“What are you doing here?”
“Enough,” Olivia exclaimed, throwing up her hand. “You’re in my way.”
“You’re wearing breeches.” Hoyt gave a low, appreciative whistle that would have likely made her blush were she not panic-stricken to get to Ember before the field master did. “I like them. You should wear breeches more often.”
“Will youpleasemove your horse from the path?” she pleaded, tears born of frustration burning in the corners of her eyes. “I have to save Ember!”
Hoyt’s countenance instantly sobered. “Who is Ember?”
“The fox that you went out to kill!”
“I didn’t go out to kill a fox. I went out to buy land.” His alert gaze flicked from Olivia to the field and back again. “But we’ll speak about that later. Come on.”
“What are you doing?” she cried when he reached out and pulled on Delphine’s bit, encouraging the mare to fall into line behind his gelding as he spurred the horse back into a gallop.
“Saving Ember,” he roared back as they barreled down the narrow bridle path and leapt out into the field, their mounts soaring effortlessly over a pile of dry brush.
“You don’t even know who Ember is!”
“Is he important to you?”
She nodded helplessly.
“Then he’s important to me.”
***
In the end, they saved Ember.
Well, Olivia corrected as she dismounted from her exhausted horse, gave her an apple, and then left her with a groom to be washed and put away,Hoythad saved Ember, as he was the one that had dared stand up to the field master. A man of such importance that even the Duke of Abercorn respected his wishes, but not a brash, bold American with eyes the color of a winter sky and kisses that tasted like heaven.
Apparently his brazen act had cost him some type of a railroad, but he didn’t appear bothered by it. His first – his only – concern washer. And wasn’t that delightfully baffling? That someone as handsome as Hoyt would pickherfirst. That he would see her first. That he would want her first, even though he undoubtedly had his pick of any woman he desired.
“There you are,” he murmured when she emerged from the stables into the glow of an afternoon summer sun. “I still like those breeches, you know. You wear them well.”
Removing her hat, she shook out her hair and gave him a wry smile. “I’m not supposed to be wearing them at all. Hoyt, I’d liketo… thank you. For your help today. You didn’t have to do that. I know it cost you in your business.”
He raised his shoulder in a negligent shrug. “I’ll find another way. I always do.”
“Do you?” she asked quietly.
