would prove to be less susceptible.
A slow smile spread across the man’s rugged features, softening them slightly as recognition struck him. ‘So this is where careless horse riders come home to roost.’
Petra knitted her eyebrows, confusion setting in. ‘Do you know each other?’
‘We met on the Dursley Road this afternoon quite by accident,’ Aurora explained tersely, her displeasure over his presence obvious.
‘Literally by accident is a more accurate retelling of our encounter,’ the man put in, his blue eyes flickering with challenge and something else, quite possibly humour. ‘I am looking for Rory Calhoun. I need a place to board my horse. I was told he might have a stall to lease.’
Aurora was torn. It wouldn’t precisely be a lie to say he didn’t have a stall to lease. After all, Rory wasn’t a man. She couldn’t imagine anything more disturbing at the moment than having this man underfoot on a daily basis. Then again, there was the allure of having that splendid beast of his in her stables where she could study it up close. Perhaps she could even convince him to put the stallion to stud with her mare. She thought the stallion carried Arabian bloodlines. Mixed with her standard-bred mare, she could produce an excellent jumper. In the end temptation won out, but not without some parameters.
Aurora crossed her arms. ‘Let’s be clear. First, it’s not “he”. It’s “she”. I’m Rory Calhoun to my friends, Aurora to the rest. You’d be in the latter group in case you were uncertain on that account. Second, I do have a stall you can lease, but there are some stipulations. Foremost, you cannot interfere in any way with my riding academy. The horses, my pupils, and my lessons are off limits. In fact, I’d prefer that you not schedule any of your time here during the afternoons on lesson days. You can come before or after lessons, but not during.’
‘Don’t want the village knowing the women ride astride and in trousers?’ he queried with keen insight.
‘We have trouser days just as we have habit days here at my school. Riding astride is a much safer way to learn the jumps,’ Aurora countered fiercely. She did not care to have her methods challenged or her secrets exposed. It was not public knowledge the girls rode in trousers on occasion, or astride. It was one of the reasons she banned unannounced outsiders from practices.
Petra moved past them with her horse, leaving them to sort out the details. Smart girl, Aurora thought. She’d like to leave too. Better yet, she’d like him to leave. Once the girl was out of earshot, Aurora delivered her next dictate. ‘She’s off limits. I will not have you behaving as you did with me in the road this afternoon. I don’t want to catch you with her, not walking with her, not talking with her. Nothing.’
The man had the audacity to laugh. ‘That might be a bit difficult. Petra Branscombe is my sister in-law.’
Aurora’s mind did the genealogical maths at rapid speed. ‘Then that makes you…’
‘The earl’s brother,’ he finished for her.
‘The Honourable Crispin Ramsden?’ Aurora said drily. It seemed the height of irony that this rough-around-the-edges, broad-shouldered man would bear such a title.
He seemed to think so too. ‘Technically speaking.’ A slow smile spread across his mouth, highlighting the lips that had kissed hers only hours ago.
Crispin raked her form with a gaze that seared as it travelled down every inch of her in deliberate contemplation. ‘I would have thought someone like you would be less tempted to judge, Miss Calhoun. It appears you have already catalogued and classified me. I wonder? Should I do the same to you?’ He chuckled at her overt reaction. ‘That’s what I thought. You don’t care to be pigeonholed any more than I do.’
He took a step towards her, his strong gaze holding hers with a teasing glint of challenge. ‘So, you think you know all about me after our brief acquaintance?’
He didn’t look honourable so much as rakishly unprincipled. Not even the moment he’d taken at some point to pull his long hair back with a leather thong into something more orderly could give him an added measure of respectability. Aurora made a special effort not to back up under the onslaught of his advance. ‘I’ve met men like you before, earl’s brother or not.’
He had a seductive smile for her alone as he leaned close to her ear and whispered, ‘I doubt it, Miss Calhoun. There are no other men like me.’
Four hours later, Aurora was ready to concede Crispin Ramsden might be right. She’d succeeded in getting him out of her stables, but not her mind. Aurora stretched her long legs out, feet resting on the fender of the fireplace absorbing the warmth of the flames in her converted apartments at the back of the stable. By rights, this was her favourite time of day. The horses were bedded down, their quiet snuffles keeping her company as she ate her dinner. But tonight, the usual peace the evening routine brought didn’t come.
She was restless. She’d made endless excuses to herself: it was the rain drumming on the roof that made her restive, it was because she had a new horse in the stables. But she’d been out to check on Sheikh twice now and the visits hadn’t alleviated her agitation. Neither the rain nor the horse was responsible for her current state. It was Crispin Ramsden that made her uneasy.
Perhaps it was nothing more than like recognising like. She’d certainly seen more than one set of horses test each other out before mating, nipping and biting. Their methods weren’t all that different than Crispin Ramsden’s. Aurora thought of Crispin’s kisses in the road and blushed, glad no one else was there to see her. There had been plenty of nipping and biting involved that afternoon.
Aurora bent forwards and stirred the fire, forcing her mind to focus on more pleasant issues. There were tomorrow’s lessons to plan. The rain would make the outdoor arena too muddy to be useful or safe. The Wednesday class would have to ride in the indoor arena. Eleanor, one of the girls in Petra’s class, had wanted to talk with her after the lesson today, but by the time she’d dealt with Crispin Ramsden Eleanor had left. She’d have to make a point to speak with Eleanor on Thursday when Petra’s class returned.
She knew what Eleanor wanted to talk about. The girl’s father, Gregory Windham, was a very wealthy gentleman who wanted a title for his daughter. He was dead set on seeing her married to an impoverished baron who led a dissipated life. Eleanor was frankly against the match, but Aurora could feel the girl weakening under her father’s pressure.
Eleanor wasn’t the only student with needs. Young Mrs Twilliger was new to the area after marrying an intimidating older man who clearly had her cowed. Catherine Sykes was worried to death over her impending London Season this spring, fearful she’d be a wallflower, and Lettie Osborne spent most of her days dreaming up ways to bring the new, single vicar up to scratch.
Whatever their needs were, the riding school was a place to start. Here, Aurora gave them a place in which they could discover their own power and build their confidence. If one could master a horse, one could master a man. That was Aurora’s philosophy. Perhaps a lucky few would do more than master a man. Perhaps a few would find a true partner for life if they had the confidence to do so.
It was the same principle with riding. She’d ridden two horses in her life that had been her partners. When she rode, she and the horse were equals. Nothing could compare with that. The other horses had been mounts to be mastered. She could get them to do what she wanted, but ultimately it hadn’t been about giving and taking with them, it had been about control.
Aurora
