Page 6 of Miss Flibbertigibbet and the Barbarian
“I can’t imagine,” he stated, “that such a horse would be easily handled other than by those accustomed to dealing with Thoroughbred stallions.”
He was right. The Barbarian was dangerously temperamental, an altogether difficult beast.
“Your stablemen must have their hands full, what with the exercise such a horse requires on a constant basis. You can’t have the setup to cope easily with such demands.”
As that was true, she said nothing.
His jaw tightening, Cynster continued to press his case, but she was accustomed to dealing with difficult males. She did him the courtesy of hearing him out, then flatly informed him, “Unfortunately, my father isn’t of a mind to sell the horse. It was bequeathed to him by a very dear friend.”
Nicholas studied Adriana’s beautiful blue eyes and accepted those statements were true. Her gaze wasn’t guileless—far from it—and her tone and her expression confirmed that, in making such declarations, she felt she stood on absolutely solid ground.
Such grounds could change, but…
He recognized that in Adriana Sommerville, he’d met a lady of adamantine will. She was not going to be swayed, certainly not easily and, very likely, not that day. The set of her lips and chin and the regal way she held her head conveyed that unequivocally.
That meant he was going to have to retreat and come at her—or more precisely, at the earl—from a different angle.
He manufactured a heartfelt sigh. “Very well. As your father is so set on keeping the horse, I can do nothing more than bid you a good day. If, however, he should change his mind, you’ll be able to find me at the Angel in Grantham for the next few days.”
Her eyes faintly narrowed, but she readily inclined her head. “I’ll bear that in mind, but I doubt Papa will have a change of heart.”
They exchanged the usual civil phrases in farewell. She knew how to play the social game as well as he; they might be at odds, yet neither of them allowed any of that to show.
Leaving her at the bottom of the steps, he strode to Tamerlane and mounted. Wheeling the big gray, he saluted Lady Adriana, then tapped his heels to Tamerlane’s sides and rode quickly down the drive.
Addie watched him go and chided herself for feeling deflated. “What is it with him?” She had no answer. Nevertheless, she allowed herself to enjoy the sight of him riding away until the trees lining the drive cut off the view. It wasn’t often that she got the chance to enjoy such a pleasant and, if she was honest, stirring distraction from her daily travails.
Finally, she turned, climbed the steps, and set about soothing Merriweather’s still faintly ruffled feathers before commending him and the staff for so swiftly restoring the dignity of the great hall of her ancestors.
* * *
Nicholas rode through the small village of Aisby and onto the road to Grantham. As one of the horse-mad Cynsters, he was well acquainted with the nearby town, having stayed at its inns numerous times when riding with the local hunts.
While cantering along, he reviewed what little he’d learned and what more he would like to know prior to making another attempt to purchase The Barbarian. He wasn’t about to be denied by a pretty face and a pair of periwinkle-blue eyes.
He clattered into the yard of the Angel Inn to find his groom, Young Gillies—so named to distinguish him from Gillies, Nicholas’s father’s groom and Young Gillies’s father—waiting to take Tamerlane’s reins.
“Well?” Of less than average height and wiry with it, Young Gillies had a round, open face framed by brown curls. “Did you get the horse?”
His eagerness was understandable; it was Young Gillies who’d brought Nicholas the rumor of The Barbarian’s current location, and the groom understood the potential value of such a stallion.
Nicholas grunted and swung down from the saddle. “I’ve confirmed Aisby has the horse. However, getting him to part with it”—getting past the dragon at his door—“is going to take a little more effort.”
“Oh?” Young Gillies accepted Tamerlane’s reins. “So what’s next, then?”
Nicholas paused, then, eyes narrowing, replied, “Before I return to storm Aisby’s gates with an offer the earl can’t refuse, I believe it would be wise to assure ourselves that The Barbarian is all he’s purported to be.” Nicholas met Young Gillies’s eyes. “In other words, that Pru has it right and we really do want this horse.”
CHAPTER2
It was after nine o’clock the next morning before Nicholas and Young Gillies located The Barbarian in a strongly fenced paddock some distance away from the Aisby Grange stable.
They were deep inside the earl’s property, but had managed to stick to the local right of ways that passed between the estate’s fields, so they weren’t actually trespassing. They’d been noticed by several groups of workers, but when, with understated assurance, Nicholas had raised a hand in salute, the workers had merely waved back and resumed their toil.
From two fields away, Nicholas had spotted the huge bay stallion racing about his enclosure. Wise in the ways of stallions, he and Young Gillies had left their geldings tied to a tree a field away before walking to the corner of the stallion’s paddock, where they could stand at the chest-high hedge and study the beast.
Staring at the massive bay, Young Gillies breathed, “Cor! Will you just look at him!”
Nicholas didn’t take his eyes from the stallion, who had seen them and was putting on a display. Sleek muscles bunched and flowed beneath a glossy bay coat, then the horse pushed off with its powerful hindquarters and raced around the field, his dark mane and tail streaming. “He’s a great deal more impressive than his registration details suggested.”
