Page 60 of The Beast of Beswick
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Good God, but the man turned her into a raving lunatic.
“Of all the bloody nerve,” she seethed, storming onto the terrace and into the residence. Culbert and the rest of the maids gave her a wide berth, no doubt crossing themselves as she muttered witlessly to herself. “As if I would ever beg to kiss that loathsome, arrogant jackanapes.”
Although she was angrier with herself forwantingto kiss the man. And shehadwanted to, quite desperately. She’d heard the thread of pain in his voice when he’d compared himself to Frankenstein’s monster. Astrid hadn’t meant to hurt him by selecting the book. She’d been curious to see ifshefelt differently after getting to know Beswick, who lived such a self-imposed solitary existence because deep down he felt that he was a monster.
Admittedly, she’d flown off the handle about the ball, but he didn’t own her.
He does, a smart, know-it-all inner voice reminded her.
As his wife, she was as good as his property. She clenched her jaw—she’d sworn to herself that she would be at no man’s mercy, and here she was, exactly that. Her face heated at the words she’d flung at him. It was a wonder hehadn’tput her over his knee to deliver the punishment he’d described.
Astrid felt a throbbing pulse deep in her core. The thought of his bare hand on her equally bare behind turned her brain to mash, twisting dark knots of sensation between her legs.
Sweet Jesus.
She needed to do something or she would go mad.
“Culbert,” she said. “I wish to go for a ride.”
“Of course, Your Grace, I will send one of the footmen to the mews at once.”
“Tell the man the faster the horse, the better,” she told him, since Brutus and Temperance were both still at Beswick Park. “And no sidesaddles. A regular saddle will do.”
Culbert frowned at the unusual demand but nodded. “As you wish, Your Grace.”
She was taking a risk riding astride down Rotten Row, but it was still absurdly early for anyone of import to be about. By the time Astrid had changed into her riding habit and breeches, a horse had been saddled and waiting. The mare that was brought around was a racer. Astrid could tell from the sheer size of the chestnut beast, along with its refined head, muscular hindquarters, and long graceful neck. She was a beauty. She pawed at the ground, steam bursting from her nostrils into the slightly chill air.
“She’s perfect.”
“This here is Luna,” the attending groom said and leaned in conspiratorially. “As in lunatic,” he amended. “But don’t tell the duke I said that. She used to be one of his favorites before Goliath. She’s a right brute.”
Astrid grinned.Thiswas the mount she needed—one that demanded a strong hand and an enormous amount of concentration. They would work each other to the bone. She didn’t want to think about anything. Not her marriage. Not the duke. Not the loss of any freedom she’d ever known. The young groom helped to boost her into the saddle, and Astrid took off with him in tow on another horse.
She waved to Beswick, who stood on the side terrace, his eyes widening upon seeing her mount. He opened his mouth, but she couldn’t hear a word beyond the rush of wind in her ears.
“Keep up,” she called back to the groom with a laugh and braced her knees into the mare’s sides.
Astrid rode like the wind through Hyde Park until she came to the south end and Rotten Row. And then Luna staunchly refused to obey her commands. Astrid was an expert rider—this mare wanted to run. She’d been stabled far too long and relished the exercise. Under normal circumstances, Astrid would have hauled the horse under control, but she wasn’t thinking straight. No one deserved to be trapped. To be caged at someone else’s whim. To wither away and die. She and Luna deserved some modicum of freedom.
She gave Luna her head.
Chapter Sixteen
Thane’s heart lodged in his throat as his eyes tracked Astrid’s breakneck pace into the south end of Hyde Park. She was truly insane.
He’d wanted to take a piece out of the groom’s side when he’d seen that she’d been given Luna. The horse was unpredictable at best and hadn’t been ridden in some months. Normally, he was the only one to handle her, but he’d been busy. Busy marrying a termagant who was going to snap her fool neck.
“Her seat is incredible,” Fletcher had said, trying to calm him down. “Better than yours, in fact.” He’d cowered at Thane’s glare. “Culbert said she asked for a spirited horse.”
“Spirited, not demonic,” Thane had muttered.
But now, though, as he thundered on Goliath in her wake, he did catch sight of her expert seat. For a moment, he felt real relief that she rode astride, because Astrid rode the horse as if they were one, fluid and effortless. He’d seen her on Brutus, but this was a whole other level of proficiency. Thane couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a woman—or man for that matter—seat a horse so capably. Despite his anger, he felt admiration.
Until his eyes fell on the broken tree branch in the path.
Luna had jumped higher obstacles, but Astrid didn’t know that.
