Sputtering with embarrassment, she gave the stableboy Kelly an anxious glance to see if he had understood what Avenel had said. Gratefully, she saw that he was busy with Idle Dice, Avenel's large bay stallion. When she was free from that mortification, she turned on Avenel and said viciously, "You heathen! Speaking of such things to me!"
"Mayhap. But that still doesn't satisfy my curiosity. Is it the mare or me?" He gave her a cocky look that she fervently wished she could scratch off his face. But she knew there would be no way around his other offer if she refused the mare. So finally she complied and allowed him to give her a leg up onto the sidesaddle.
She quickly grabbed the reins but made them too short in her hands. The mare obediently started backing up and, there seemed to be no way to stop her from going all the way to London. Feeling terribly out of control, she didn't know what to do next, but Avenel comfortably took the lead, swinging easily into the saddle of his stud and taking a mild trot over toward the northwestern fields.
Much to her rising terror, the mare followed, progressing into a bouncing, jarring trot also. Brienne almost feared for her life, for she didn't have the vaguest idea how to go along with the miserable gait.
"Is it that you are trying to kill me now?" she screamed at Avenel when they finally stopped in a closely clipped pasture. She hung over the pommel of the saddle, relieved and grateful that the mount had stopped moving and was now standing calmly beside Idle Dice. "Is that the plan you've had all .along?" Huffing, she tried to pull up her bodice, which had fallen during the uncomfortable ride. She then pulled the edges of her dark blue jacket closer together, noting that one of the frogs on it had become undone. Fastening this while she shot Avenel looks of molten rage, she firmly decided that learning to ride was utterly dispensable and that she would find another way to be free of the man.
"Just think of this, if it becomes too much for you Lady Brienne." He untied his shin and pulled the shiny black cord from around his neck. He dangled the key seductively within her grasp, but she was not such a fool as to grab for it here. Balefully she tried to give the key and him her complete disregard.
"I will learn to ride, Master Slane," she conceded; the key held the power of persuasion, "if that will please you. Anyhow, riding is far better than anything else you've suggested, no matter how painful and awkward it is."
"Wonderful." He noted her forced compliance. "And to make it more comfortable, I will ask you to keep your hands loosely upon the reins and to hold them like so." He draped his reins over the right shoulder of his mount and then laced them through his little finger, holding his wrists at a relaxed angle.
"Good," he said when she begrudgingly emulated him. "Now, 'tis important for you to keep your hands down near her mane. You'll gain more control over her mouth, and it is more pleasing to the eye." He watched her lower her hands, and then he instructed, "Now walk her. Shift forward slightly in the saddle and nudge her with your calf."
She did as she was told, and miraculously the mare started to walk. "But how do I tell her where she should go?"
"A demure tightening on the left or right rein will suffice for now. You'll learn more effective ways later."
He sat on Idle Dice and watched as she and the mare went around him in circles. He showed her how to turn the mare around. Suddenly, feeling more in control, she wondered if she would like riding after all. It was a relief to be outside and away from Osterley. The day was a glorious repeat of yesterday; the blue azure sky provided lots of strong yellow sunshine. The air smelled of fresh grass, and it was truly a great spiritual uplift to be on horseback, looking at the faraway fields alternately of green alfalfa and bright gold flax.
"I think you've taken to her already," he said as she rode around him.
"What is her name?" She leaned forward and patted the side of the mare's dappled neck, forgetting her uncomfortable jacket and falling bodice in her pleasure.
"She has no name yet. You may name her."
"Me, name her? Then I will call her . . ." She bit on her lower lip with her gleaming front teeth, looking very much like a little girl trying to name her first doll. "I will name her . . . Queenie. She looks very much like a queen, don't you agree?" She looked up at him, her face full of happy anticipation. The sun had given her cheeks a pretty blush, and her eyes had never before seemed so full of light and so uncommonly purple.
Brienne was mildly puzzled by the way he watched her. It was as if she had done something extraordinary and he simply could not believe his eyes. But his look was quickly frozen over by his icy blue eyes, and he looked away, apparently finding something more interesting to gaze upon in one of the far-off clusters of oak trees.
The ride did not continue much longer after that. Gruffly, Avenel gathered his reins and bade her follow him back to the stable. He took off at another damnable trot, and Queenie instinctively followed him, despite the precarious seat of her rider. Inwardly, Brienne silently prayed that she would be able to stay in the back-twisting, awkward saddle. She tried with all her might to anticipate the next jolt and sway, knowing the embarrassment she would suffer if she fell off. It was with much relief and annoyance that she finally followed Idle Dice and his master back into the stable yard.
"Must I endure that maddening gait coming and going?" She shot him a sour look as his hands spanned her small waist and helped her to the ground.
" 'Tis the only way to learn to ride," he said abruptly. She watched as he handed Queenie's reins over to Kelly. Then Brienne almost stamped her foot in exasperation when he left for the house without saying another word.
She heard splashing from the Etruscan room and took this for a sure sign that the master of the house was bathing. Having fumed all day after their ride, Brienne had hoped for such a moment. Hiding in the niche between the state bed and the door to the south passage, she heard Avenel's voice excuse his manservant and finally the quiet splashing sounds of bathing.
Here was her last chance. The key lay as a gold temptation on the commode in the pier. She moved closer to it, hoping the firelight would not betray her. For through the cracked door to the elaborately painted dressing room beyond, Avenel sat just out of sight in a giant, oblong, copper tub. She pulled the hood from her cloak over her dark shining hair to lessen its reflection in the light. Then she quickly made her way across the bedroom to the key that lay enticingly bright atop the black japanned chest of drawers.
Taking her time, she took the key into her shaking hand and ever so slowly put it into the proper keyhole. There was an almost imperceptible click as the lock was sprung. Her heart beat so loudly in her chest that she was sure that even if Avenel had missed the sound of the drawer opening, he would not be deaf to the wild pounding in her chest. Hardly daring to breathe, she almost collapsed when the sound of trickling water from the Etruscan room stopped. She saw through the barely opened door of the dressing room that the shadows that had played with Avenel's movements along the opposite wall of the fireside were now still and cold.
But after a time, Avenel seemed to be assured that there was no sound from his bedchamber. His bath continued, and Brienne heard him scrubbing his chest with a sponge. Her lungs filled with badly needed air, and she trembled with relief. Returning to her task, she vowed to be even quieter, cursing the man in the other room for having an uncanny sense of hearing.
In complete silence she guided the drawer out far enough to spot the sparkling gems that encrusted her comb. She reached for it and enclosed it lovingly in her palm. She hid it among the folds of her cloak, smoothly rolled the drawer into-its closed position, and placed the key back on the top, taking extra rime to place the black silk cording around it in the same position as she had found it.
"That should fool him," she said to herself, happy with her work, "and give me some extra time." Slowly breathing in, she felt refreshed by the heavy, comforting burden of the comb near her side.
Turning to make her way out of the bedroom, she knew there would be one las
t obstacle to her freedom. That was once again getting by the slightly open door to the dressing room. Brienne knew he was finishing his bath by now, and she heard the water fall from his body as he stood up from the tub. Soon she heard him drying off with the household linens.
As she passed the dressing-room door, she saw that he stood with his back to her. The picture of him tall, and naked before the fireplace lingered in her mind long after her eyes had passed it over. His wide, smooth shoulders rippled and flexed as he rubbed a towel over his damp hair, and his lean, powerful thighs tapered up to high, muscular buttocks that bunched with every motion. And then she saw that the hair on his legs seemed to become denser close to his groin. The very thought of that mysterious male flesh that almost appeared between his legs when he bent down to dry his legs made her blush.
Closing her eyes, she stumbled near the door to the passage and grabbed at one of the columns on the bedstead to stop her fall. It was as if he had a sixth sense; she heard Avenel walk to the door of the dressing room and open it to see if something was amiss. Without even thinking, she pulled back against the darkened wall near the bedcurtains, hoping against hope that he would not come into the bedroom. She heard him pause uncertainly as he stood out of her sight in the doorway. Figuring he'd seen nothing out of place—particularly the gold key, which lay just as he had left it on the commode—she heard him start back into the dressing room to warm his naked body by the fire.
Moving like a timid rabbit, she went to the passage door and took an excruciating amount of time closing the lock behind her in an effort to be thorough. She would need all the time she could get, and she did not want to leave any traces of her having been in his room. Once in the south passage, she darted into the drawing room to hide from the old footmen in the hall. From there she peeked into the dimly lit long gallery. Finding it pleasingly empty, she found her way out the central door to the back of the house.
Once outside, she crept along the house to the stable block in the late twilight. There were no lights to be seen from any of its openings as it loomed before her, and she was amazed by her luck. Kelly was nowhere to be seen when she entered the stable, but Queenie stuck her gray head out from the closest stall to greet her.
Nervously patting the horse on her huge forehead, Brienne was momentarily stumped as to how to begin to tack the animal up. She walked over to where several saddles were stored against the wall, and seeing the only sidesaddle, she picked up the incredibly heavy leather piece and made her way back to Queenie's stall in the dark. She went back to the saddlery once again to search for the animal's bridle, but there she was completely confused: all the bridles and harnesses that lined the wall looked alike to her. Finally, exasperated, she took the closest one to her, thinking it would do just as well as any. She went back to Queenie and lugged the heavy saddle up onto her back, then went to the other side of the animal with the girth. After attaching this as tightly as she could, she examined the intricate bridle, losing several minutes of the precious dim twilight trying to figure out how to put it on the creature before her.
Turning the thing over in her hands until she thought she knew what to do with it, she slipped it over the mare's head. She was grateful that the animal took the bit automatically into her delicate mouth. But as she forced the crown piece over
Queenie's attentive ears, Brienne was dismayed. She had gotten the wrong bridle after all; this one seemed horribly right around the ears. But she congratulated herself for getting the confusing straps of leather onto the animal at all and silently led the mare out into the courtyard of the stable, thinking the light bridle would do no harm.
Brienne was startled when Orillion ran up to her from the stable wagging his tail. Playfully, she scolded the dog for frightening her. They had become great friends since spending the night together in the stable block.
"Now, don't you tell that master of yours that you saw me, Orillion," she said as she bent down to pat him good-bye on the head. She stood up and gave one last look at the house; its enormous windows were lit up with the light of hundreds of candles. For a flashing, poignant moment, she stood in the darkness with Queenie's reins in her small hand.
A house like Osterley had much to offer a young girl like herself who was starved for companionship and for a taste of the upper crust. But every time she found herself being seduced by the grandeur of Osterley, it wasn't the thought of Avenel that brought her out of the reverie, for he had yet to prove the ogre he seemed capable of being. But there was no relieving her mind of the imminent appearance of her father. She had much to fear from him. She wouldn't take the chance of meeting up with him, not even for the seductions of wealth and position.
Resigning herself to her fate, Brienne awkwardly managed to get into the saddle from the mounting block near the carriage drive. She took one last look at the Park as she turned her head toward the northwest woods. Then, with an uncomfortable feeling that there was still something left undone, she inexpertly guided Queenie into a steady walk.
Much too soon, however, she found that more skill was needed for horseback riding than one lesson could provide. Queenie's sensitive mouth rebelled against the tight bridle. The mare tossed her head constantly, chewing and salivating to ease her discomfort. The night noises—everything from an early hooting owl to a late-night gathering of squirrels among the tree branches—seemed to start the mare into an ungodly jog that left her passenger with absolutely no control.
They had hardly gotten past the first clump of trees when the animal calmed down. But then, as if seeing something utterly terrifying before her, Queenie came to a dead stop; her ears strained forward and her neck arched unnaturally.
"What is it?" Brienne whispered to the frightened mare. Becoming intimidated herself, Brienne nervously took the reins even more tightly in her hands, but there was no head response from the horse. Fearing what she could not see, she ungraciously kicked the animal's left flank, hoping to move her onward. Suddenly the animal reared forward in an effort to flee from whatever had scared her. Queenie wasted no time; she took off at a dead gallop toward a far clearing. In the mare's wild frenzy, Brienne was left terrified and, worse, completely unbalanced. There was nothing she could do to control her mount, and almost paralyzed with fear, she grabbed hold of the trim mane for dear life.
They reached the clearing in an impossibly short time; she was sure the crazed pace would be the end of them both. Rearing once again as they reached the darkened meadow, the terrified mare tested Brienne's ability to stay on her back. But she threw Brienne completely off balance, and the girl tumbled to the hard, black ground of the clearing, stunned and desperately trying to breathe with lungs that simply refused the air. Brienne watched as the mare, having disposed of her rider, galloped madly away into the dark surrounding forest, her tail held straight with fright.
Finally, when Brienne thought she would surely smother from lack of air, the cold night breeze swept into her chest. She sucked it in with terrifying quickness and lay there on her belly, panting and crying, until she heard hoofbeats behind her, coming from the opposite direction of where Queenie had gone. Not even daring a look behind her, all at once Brienne felt hopelessly frightened by the horseback ride, the threat of the earl, and the black rage that must surely be on the face of the man behind her.
"Damn you, woman!" Avenel whispered harshly as he dismounted. Swinging the reins angrily back into Idle Dice's face, the animal reared in fright as his master threw a lather- covered whip to the ground behind her. "You little fool! I should beat you senseless!" He stood over her and looked down at her wracking shoulders; his legs were slightly parted in an angry stance. He pulled her up from the ground and tried to discover if she was injured, but she violently turned away from his touch.
"If you have any decency at all, you will leave me alone!" she cried out, her face muddied and stained with tears. "Can't you see that I must get away from here? Why must you continue to stop me?"
"We have
been through this already. You may leave when I am through with your father," he said sternly.
"My father! I'm no bait for my father! He hates me! He abandoned me as a child! He will not come here for me now," she said, trying not to reveal too much of her past. Again those terrible parting words Lord Oliver had uttered echoed in her mind: "I'll have you both, both, both." Brienne put her hands over her ears in an effort to shut them out. How would she ever endure a visit from her father? How had her mother been so brave?
"I have no need for you to entice the earl here. He will show up whether you are here or not." Again Avenel tried to pull her to her feet.
"Then you have another use for me in this demented scheme? Pray tell, what is it?" She swerved from his grasp and got up by herself, planning to run from him and hide in the blackness of the surrounding woods. But she did not get far, for her ankle had been wrenched and was now swollen and weak. Falling squarely into his waiting arms, they both fell to the ground; this time Avenel's greater weight pinned her down.
"Where is the comb, Brienne?" He looked down at her, his eyes glowing like two full moons despite the dark, overcast sky.
"I don't have it." She tried to get up, but he wouldn't let her.
"Hand it over now, or I'll strip you naked as a babe in order to find it." He started with her cloak, pulling the hood from her back.
"No, please . . . wait!" He began on her bodice; the lace that edged her shift started to tear with his recklessness.
"Give it up, Brienne." He smiled a sinister smile and ran his hand lightly down the front of her chest.
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