Garrett.
"It serves to relieve certain boredoms," she returned coolly.
He pulled out a chair across from her and sat in it, his long legs stretching out, catlike, in front of him. She noticed his dark hair, moist with perspiration, was curling damply around his forehead and temples, and his skin bore an even deeper tan today, as a result of several long hours in the sun. Well, she couldn't blame Rebecca for wondering!
"But you would prefer more active pastimes, I gather," said Garrett, grinning now. "Sports, to develop your leg and arm muscles," he added, rubbing the side of his cheek.
"It would seem they have served me well enough," she replied, beginning to feel uncomfortable. She really wasn't in the mood to be baited just now, and here they were, thrust together again. Damn! In the future, she would be more careful to avoid such a trap. "How do the horses look, Garrett? Have you found any to your liking? And how long will you be staying at Windreach?"
"I've found several excellent mares thus far. You Trevellyans know your business. As for my stay, why, I thought you knew—I'm not to leave until after your birthday ball," he added, his eyes taking the opportunity to roam over her seated form and apparently liking the appearance she presented in her thin white cotton dress.
So he was staying that long! Now feeling even more uncomfortable, Christie put her embroidery aside and stood up.
"Aaron, Rebecca, I think I will take up your invitation to go riding," she said. "If you'll give me a few minutes to change, we can go immediately. I begin to find needlework tedious."
And she rushed into the house, leaving four pleased young people, an astonished-looking Charles, and an amused Garrett Randall.
Chapter Six
During the days that followed, Christie, determined to avoid Garrett as much as possible, tried to resume the normal leisurely pace of living she had always enjoyed at Windreach. Her best chance of doing this, she had decided, was to spend as little time as possible in and about the stables and breeding pens or any of the other places where horses where to be found. This left her with a considerably smaller sphere of operating room, but, gritting her teeth, she reminded herself it would only be for a short while, for once the ball was over, Garrett was expected to be on his way—and out of her life for good, she noted with satisfaction.
It was mid afternoon on a particularly hot day when she hit upon the idea of riding to a spot she hadn't visited since the heat of the previous summer. This was a small clearing in one of the thickest parts of the woods that faced the eastern edge of the plantation, beyond the pasture where the prize mares were kept. Here an underground spring had long ago erupted and formed a deep, clear pool before it again trickled away to eventually feed the brook that meandered through several of their best grazing pastures. Christie had discovered the place years before, and, because of its seclusion, had long ago taken to using it for her private swimming pool on the hottest days, for, being spring-fed, the water was icy.
Now as she felt perspiration forming beneath the thin cotton shirt and light breeches she wore, she hurried Thunder along the old path through the woods in eager anticipation of a cooling swim.
She was almost to the pool when she heard a sound that was unfamiliarly loud amid the usual woodland noises of birds chirping and insects humming in the shade. Yes, it definitely was a splash, and one that would have been made by an animal considerably larger than the raccoons she had occasionally surprised there.
Reining Thunder in cautiously, she brought him to a halt just out of sight of the clearing and dismounted quietly. Suddenly she spied a movement to her left and there, tethered to a tree, she saw the big black horse she knew to be Garrett Randall's Jet!
Quickly, yet stealthily, she crept to the edge of the clearing. There she saw Garrett Randall, diving into her
"It serves to relieve certain boredoms," she returned coolly.
He pulled out a chair across from her and sat in it, his long legs stretching out, catlike, in front of him. She noticed his dark hair, moist with perspiration, was curling damply around his forehead and temples, and his skin bore an even deeper tan today, as a result of several long hours in the sun. Well, she couldn't blame Rebecca for wondering!
"But you would prefer more active pastimes, I gather," said Garrett, grinning now. "Sports, to develop your leg and arm muscles," he added, rubbing the side of his cheek.
"It would seem they have served me well enough," she replied, beginning to feel uncomfortable. She really wasn't in the mood to be baited just now, and here they were, thrust together again. Damn! In the future, she would be more careful to avoid such a trap. "How do the horses look, Garrett? Have you found any to your liking? And how long will you be staying at Windreach?"
"I've found several excellent mares thus far. You Trevellyans know your business. As for my stay, why, I thought you knew—I'm not to leave until after your birthday ball," he added, his eyes taking the opportunity to roam over her seated form and apparently liking the appearance she presented in her thin white cotton dress.
So he was staying that long! Now feeling even more uncomfortable, Christie put her embroidery aside and stood up.
"Aaron, Rebecca, I think I will take up your invitation to go riding," she said. "If you'll give me a few minutes to change, we can go immediately. I begin to find needlework tedious."
And she rushed into the house, leaving four pleased young people, an astonished-looking Charles, and an amused Garrett Randall.
Chapter Six
During the days that followed, Christie, determined to avoid Garrett as much as possible, tried to resume the normal leisurely pace of living she had always enjoyed at Windreach. Her best chance of doing this, she had decided, was to spend as little time as possible in and about the stables and breeding pens or any of the other places where horses where to be found. This left her with a considerably smaller sphere of operating room, but, gritting her teeth, she reminded herself it would only be for a short while, for once the ball was over, Garrett was expected to be on his way—and out of her life for good, she noted with satisfaction.
It was mid afternoon on a particularly hot day when she hit upon the idea of riding to a spot she hadn't visited since the heat of the previous summer. This was a small clearing in one of the thickest parts of the woods that faced the eastern edge of the plantation, beyond the pasture where the prize mares were kept. Here an underground spring had long ago erupted and formed a deep, clear pool before it again trickled away to eventually feed the brook that meandered through several of their best grazing pastures. Christie had discovered the place years before, and, because of its seclusion, had long ago taken to using it for her private swimming pool on the hottest days, for, being spring-fed, the water was icy.
Now as she felt perspiration forming beneath the thin cotton shirt and light breeches she wore, she hurried Thunder along the old path through the woods in eager anticipation of a cooling swim.
She was almost to the pool when she heard a sound that was unfamiliarly loud amid the usual woodland noises of birds chirping and insects humming in the shade. Yes, it definitely was a splash, and one that would have been made by an animal considerably larger than the raccoons she had occasionally surprised there.
Reining Thunder in cautiously, she brought him to a halt just out of sight of the clearing and dismounted quietly. Suddenly she spied a movement to her left and there, tethered to a tree, she saw the big black horse she knew to be Garrett Randall's Jet!
Quickly, yet stealthily, she crept to the edge of the clearing. There she saw Garrett Randall, diving into her
Similar Books
