Page 14 of Beauty's Beast

Should she tell him the truth? Would he be angry? What was he thinking? The mask hid most of his features. Leather riding gloves covered his hands. He wore a shirt of finely woven gray wool beneath a black broadcloth coat; black riding breeches were tucked into expensive black boots.

“Answer me.”

Something warned her not to lie to him. “I was following you.”

“Following me?” Surprise flickered in his eyes. “Why?”

“Because I … that is … ” Her gaze slid away from his. “I was curious, my lord.”

“Curious?”

“About where you go. I never see you except … ” She took a deep breath, disconcerted by his unwavering gaze. “I never see you during the day.”Or in the night.The unspoken accusation hovered between them.

He muttered something under his breath, then eased her from his lap. Rising, he stared down at her for a long moment; then, reaching for her hand, he helped her to her feet. He released her as soon as she was steady.

“Come,” he said gruffly. “I’ll take you back.”

Kristine bit down on her lower lip; then, summoning her courage, she asked, “Do we have to? Go back, I mean.” She spread her hands in a gesture that encompassed the surrounding countryside. “It’s so pretty out here. And I do like riding. It’s quite … exciting.”

“You want to ride with me?” he exclaimed, disbelief evident in his voice, in the taut lines of his body.

“Yes, my lord, very much.”

“Have you ever ridden before today?”

She shook her head, wondering if such an admission was wise. Would he make her go back, now that he knew she was a novice?

“I shall have Brandt give you lessons.”

Taking up Misty’s reins, he led the mare to Kristine. “Are you certain you wish to ride with me?”

She nodded, feeling a rush of excitement as Erik’s hands closed around her waist. He lifted her effortlessly into the saddle, handed her the reins, then swung onto the stallion’s back and clucked to the horse.

Kristine urged Misty up beside him. They rode side by side, not speaking.

In spite of her earlier remark about the beauty of her surroundings, Kristine paid little heed to the passing countryside. The trees might have been blue, the sky green, for all the notice she took. All her senses were riveted on the man riding beside her. The tall, dark mysterious man who was her husband. Erik …

She watched him furtively. He rode easily in the saddle, the reins loosely held in his right hand. His left hand, curled into a tight fist, rested on his thigh. Her gaze moved over his broad back and shoulders. He was as well muscled as the big horse he rode. Her gaze lingered on the blue-black highlights in his hair, was drawn again and again to the mask that covered his face. What was he hiding beneath that bit of black silk?

Trevayne was acutely aware of her veiled glances in his direction. He understood her curiosity. What he didn’t understand was why she wanted to ride with him. He had given her no reason to desire his company.

The silence stretched between them, thrumming like a tuning fork. Kristine glanced at his gloved hands, remembering how they felt moving over her body, wondering again if his left hand was deformed in some way. He shifted in the saddle and she watched the play of muscles beneath his coat, felt her mouth go dry as he turned to face her.

Desperate to break the taut silence between them, she cast about for some safe topic of conversation. “All this land,” she said, making a sweeping gesture with one hand. “Is it yours?”

He nodded curtly. “And yours, too, madam.”

She felt a rush of heat climb up her neck and into her cheeks as he reminded her, in his rough, gravellike voice, that she was also his. She wondered if he had been injured somehow, if that was what caused his voice to be so harsh.

“Where does your … our … land end?”

“At the stream, just beyond that rise. The property across the water belongs to Lord Farthingale.”

Kristine nodded, though she had no idea who Lord Farthingale might be.

She looked at Erik, her gaze again drawn to the mask. She saw his eyes narrow, his muscles tense, as he endured her scrutiny.

Muttering an oath, he reined the stallion to a halt.

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