Page 13 of Miss Flibbertigibbet and the Barbarian
Phillip—or more specifically, Phillip learning of her father’s developing infirmity—was what they had to guard against. That meant they couldn’t afford her father’s condition to become widely known, sufficiently widely known that it reached Phillip’s ears.
To that point, they’d managed, but…
A chill touched Addie’s nape.
Nicholas Cynster and Phillip were, she judged, of similar age. Were they acquainted?
As far as she knew, Phillip had never shown any huge interest in horses. In contrast, horses seemed to be the center of Nicholas’s life.
In the distance, the gong for luncheon bonged. Addie pushed back from the desk. “Pray God, Phillip and Nicholas aren’t friends.”
If they were…
Her lips setting, Addie rose and headed for the door. “Just as well Papa has left the sale of The Barbarian in my hands.”
CHAPTER3
Addie was waiting in the front hall, standing before the large, ornately carved, and presently empty fireplace when Nicholas Cynster arrived. She’d spent the hour since luncheon reviewing her approach to the upcoming negotiations and rehearsing safe replies to any queries regarding her father.
Today was as fine as the previous day, and the front door was propped wide, allowing her to watch as, having handed his horse’s reins to a groom, Nicholas swiftly climbed the front steps and strode into the house.
She’d been waiting to assess her response to him, having almost convinced herself that her previous reactions had been primarily due to surprise and would not occur again, but when, after exchanging a nod with Merriweather, Nicholas crossed the tiles toward her, such naive hopes were dashed.
The instant she’d set eyes on him, her senses had leapt; as his gaze settled on her, they almost seemed to salivate. As for her nerves, they tensed and tightened in a most peculiar way, as if she—they—were waiting, anticipating…
Such anticipatory tension, so intense and focused, had never afflicted her before. Fueled by a giddy-making blend of curiosity, expectation, and undefined, unacknowledged hope, the resulting sensations twined into a rope and cinched about her lungs, leaving her faintly, irritatingly breathless.
Through all her years of waltzing through the ton, no other man had affected her like that. Then again, she’d never met Nicholas Cynster in the ballrooms.
Not even his brother, Toby, whom she had met several times, had so much as caused her to blink.
Regardless…
As Nicholas drew near, she tipped up her chin and met his gaze. “Good afternoon, Mr. Cynster. You’ll be pleased to know that my father has agreed to part with The Barbarian, provided, of course, that we can agree on a price.”
His lips lightly curved, and he studied her for several seconds before saying, “Am I to take it that you will be acting for the earl in negotiating our agreement?”
“Indeed. My father is currently engaged with other matters and has delegated arranging the sale of The Barbarian to me.”
“I see.” He paused, then went on, “In that case, the broader details of my offer remain as I outlined them this morning. Regarding the issue of offspring, I believe three offspring, one from each of the first three years of The Barbarian standing at our stud, would be appropriate. Either colts or fillies, to be selected by the earl from the offspring remaining after the Cynster Stable requirements are met.” He held her gaze. “Is such an arrangement satisfactory to you?”
She’d questioned her father over the luncheon table, and he’d stated he would be happy with one offspring. Three… She nodded. “That’s acceptable.”
He inclined his head. “That leaves only the purchase price itself to be decided. As to that…” He glanced toward the open doorway, then returned his gaze to her. “I would like to examine the horse more closely before finalizing my offer.”
Her father had warned her to expect such a request. Smoothly, she gestured to the door. “Of course. Shall we?”
She stepped out, and he fell in beside her, adjusting his long strides to her shorter paces.
“Is the horse in the same paddock?”
“Yes. As you can imagine, he doesn’t always behave well in the stable.”
Nicholas smothered a snort. Given what he’d already seen of The Barbarian’s temperament, that assessment was a gross understatement.
They left the house through the front door and walked along the front façade in the direction of the stable.
As they rounded the corner of the house, he slanted a sidelong glance at Adriana. The turquoise gown became her, sheathing her sleek figure from neck to waist before the full skirts cascaded over her shapely hips. The skirts swung as she walked, her stride free and easy and inherently graceful. She possessed a regal posture, queenly and confident. Despite this being the third time he’d been in her company, his awareness had, once again, flared and focused intently on her.
