A Rake's Vow

A Rake's Vow by Stephanie Laurens Page B

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Authors: Stephanie Laurens
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something about the harnessed power of the man, dominating and harnessing the power of the beast, that made her stomach tighten. The clop of hooves had drowned out her approach; she stared for a minute longer, then gave herself a mental shake, and walked forward.
    Grisham had the brown mare she favored saddled and waiting; Patience ascended the mounting block, then climbed into the saddle. She settled her skirts and picked up the reins.
    “Ready?”
    The question came from Vane. Patience nodded.
    Naturally, he led the way out.
    The morning greeted them, crisp and clear. Pale grey clouds dotted the washed-out sky; the smell of damp greenery was all-pervasive. Their first stop was a knoll, three miles from the Hall. Vane had ridden the fidgets from his mount in a series of short gallops that Patience had tried hard not to watch. After that, the grey had cantered beside her mare. Gerrard had ridden on her other side. None of them had spoken, content to look about and let the cool air refresh them.
    Reining in beside Vane on the top of the knoll, Patience looked around. Beside her, Gerrard scanned the horizon, gauging the view. Twisting in his saddle, he eyed the steep mound beyond Vane, covering one end of the knoll.
    “Here.” Thrusting his reins into her hands, Gerrard dismounted. “I’m going to check the view.”
    Patience glanced at Vane, sitting his grey with deceptive ease, hands crossed on the saddlebow. He smiled lazily at Gerrard but made no move to follow. They watched as Gerrard scrambled up the steep sloping side of the mound. Gaining the top, he waved, then looked about. After a moment, he sank down, his gaze fixed in the distance.
    Patience grinned and transferred her gaze to Vane’s face. “I’m afraid he might be hours. He’s very much taken with landscapes at present.”
    To her surprise, the grey eyes watching her showed no sign of alarm at that news. Instead, Vane’s long lips curved. “I know,” he said. “He mentioned his current obsession, so I told him about the old burial mound.”
    He paused, then added, his eyes still on hers, his smile deepening, “The views are quite spectacular.” His eyes glinted. “Guaranteed to hold a budding artist’s attention for a considerable space of time.”
    Patience, her gaze locked in the grey of his, felt a tingling sensation run over her skin. She blinked, then frowned. “How kind of you.” She turned to study the views herself. And again felt that odd sensation, a ripple of awareness sliding over her nerves, leaving them sensitized. It was most peculiar. She would have put it down to the touch of the breeze, but the wind wasn’t that cold.
    Beside her, Vane raised his brows, his predator’s smile still in evidence. Her lavender habit was not new, hardly fashionable, yet it hugged her contours, emphasizing their softness, leaving him with an urgent longing to fill his arms with their warmth. The grey shifted; Vane steadied him. “Minnie mentioned you and your brother hail from Derbyshire. Do you ride much while there?”
    “As much as I can.” Patience glanced his way. “I enjoy the exercise, but the rides in the vicinity of the Grange are rather restricted. Are you familiar with the area around Chesterfield?”
    “Not specifically.” Vane grinned. “That’s a bit farther north than my usual hunting grounds.”
    For foxes—or females? Patience stifled a humph. “From your knowledge of the locality”—she glanced at the mound beside them—“I take it you’ve visited here before?”
    “Often as a child. My cousin and I spent a few weeks here most summers.”
    Patience humphed. “I’m surprised Minnie survived.”
    “On the contrary—she thrived on our visits. She always delighted in our exploits and adventures.”
    When she returned no further comment, Vane softly said, “Incidentally, Minnie mentioned the odd thefts that have occurred at the Hall.” Patience looked up; he trapped her gaze. “Is that what you were looking for

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