Goddess of the Hunt (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #1)

“He does care,” she muttered. “He just … isn’t good at it.” Her chin lifted. “And who areyou to talk about tender feelings?”


Jeremy meant to reward her cold remark with an equally cold silence, but Miss Hathaway spoke, ruining the effect. “That song the men were singing,” Sophia said. “I don’t believe I’ve heard it before.”

“Miss Hathaway, allow me to apologize for Mr. Waltham’s crass behavior,” Toby said in a buttery tone. “We are unused to the company of ladies on these excursions.”

Lucy’s nose twitched, and she tossed her head.

Jeremy trained his gaze on the horizon. He’d learned his lesson. It was useless to offer her soothing words. Lucy always took as she pleased, even when it came to offense.

“There is no need for apology,” Sophia replied. “I should like to learn the words, that’s all.” She arranged the folds of her emerald-green skirt over her mount’s dappled flank. Her face brightened as she turned her horse into the woods. “Oh, look! Have they found one?”

None of Tuppence’s whelps had succeeded as yet in sniffing out a fox, but it appeared one brindled pup had managed to surprise a squirrel. Both hound and quarry scuttled underfoot, causing Lucy’s mare to rear and buck.

Jeremy lunged to grab the reins, but Lucy didn’t need his assistance. With a quick jerk on the bit and a soothing word, she had the horse calmed within seconds. She repositioned herself in the saddle. Her velvet riding habit slipped easily across the leather, making a little shushing noise that Jeremy found anything but calming.

Lucy turned and caught him staring. She arched an eyebrow.

He cleared his throat. “Since when do you ride sidesaddle?”

“Since this morning.”

“This morning? No wonder your horse is skittish.”

“Thistle isnot skittish. I’ve ridden her astride, bareback, and standing up. I expect I can ride her sidesaddle.” Lucy patted the mare’s neck and ruffled her gray mane.

“Standing up?”

Jeremy supposed he must appear sufficiently shocked, because she smiled for the first time all day. “Only once,” she said, her green eyes teasing. “On a dare. And it was years ago. The steward’s son—”

Her voice trailed off as her eyes fixed on something behind him. Jeremy turned to follow her gaze. He saw instantly what had captured Lucy’s attention. Toby and Sophia had dismounted in a small clearing some paces away. A shaft of sunlight pierced the trees, bathing the couple in luminous gold. Toby was working something between his hands, and Sophia sat on a fallen tree, looking up at him with a radiant expression. They exchanged smiling words that Jeremy could not hear, and then Toby held his creation aloft for a moment before placing it gently atop Sophia’s head.

A crown, woven of ivy.

Toby took Sophia’s hand and kissed it. Jeremy swore under his breath.

“Lucy—” he began, turning back to her.

Or to where she hadbeen . He caught only the cracks of snapped twigs and a glimpse of russet velvet and gray mare disappearing through the trees. Jeremy turned his horse in pursuit, leaning over the stallion’s neck to duck a low-hanging branch.

Lucy urged her mare on, riding hell-for-leather across the barley field. Bent low over the mare’s neck, her chestnut curls blown loose and streaming behind her, she burned a path across the field toward a gap in the hedgerow. Jeremy was tempted to let her go. Let her ride out all the hurt and come back calmer.

But then he remembered that little shush of velvet slipping over leather. The sound echoed in his ears and crawled down his neck, setting every hair on end. It wasn’t called a breakneck pace for nothing. One misstep—one stone in a barley field—could send her flying.

Jeremy nudged his horse into a gallop. In a flat-out race over open country, her mare was no match for his mount, and the gap between them narrowed.

Then he saw the stile.

A low wooden fence bridged the gap in the hedgerow. Beyond it, a steep slope led down to the orchards. It would be a difficult jump for any rider, under the best conditions. For a rider in a holy fury, on a skittish horse, riding sidesaddle for the first time in her life, it was certain disaster.

Jeremy hauled on the reins, pulling his horse to a halt in the middle of the field. “Lucy! Stop, damn it!”

He groped for a more impressive threat to hurtle in her direction, but it was too late. She pushed the mare into a jump. Jeremy heard the hollow clatter of hooves clipping wood. Then horse and rider disappeared from view completely.

His stomach gave a sick lurch. Panic twisted in his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs. For one black, unending moment, his heart refused to beat. Then it roared back to life at a thundering gallop, and he dug his knees into the horse’s sides until his stallion matched the pace.