Absolute Surrender Read Online Free PDF Page A

they were much younger, and Jacks had never called Hugh out for the tricks he ’ d played on him. Hugh should have been called out for them. He had wanted to be called out. But Jackson was bred to lead, trained up to control, and nothing Hugh could do had ever broken that.
    Hugh arrived at Endsleigh Hall within the hour, pushing past his stable man in favor of rubbing down the horse himself. He needed the methodical sweep across the horse’s flesh to calm his ragged nerves. He wasn ’ t entirely sure why the day had ended in such a shock to him. When Jacks had arrived at the ball, Hugh should have known it was the end of his bid for her hand. Truly, he should have accepted that fact long before then. If he were to be honest with himself, he would admit to knowing long ago that he was chasing an impossible dream.
    Stubborn? Perhaps. Stubborn…yes, all right, stubborn. But it wa s Amelia, and she was perfect. So incredibly perfect. It was terribly unfortunate, that.
    Hugh shook his head and stripped the saddle, throwing it across the stand heavy enough to startle his overwrought horse.

    He paused, his hands still on the stiff, polished leather. Calm, he thought. Calm yourself or call for the man to handle the steed.
    He turned back to Termagant and rose his hands in apology as he pulled the brush from the wall. The horse stepped back, his eyes bright and wary, but Hugh spoke gently, reassuring him. As Hugh calmed, Termagant followed suit.
    Hugh brushed his withers, unbraided his mane, and worked his way down the rich coppery legs, then moved on to his back. He smoothed and soothed and calmed himself with every stroke of the beast.
    Hugh ’ s sore muscles pulled and swayed as Termagant shifted into his movements, finally reassured. He pulled a fresh bale from the gateway and spread a thick mat of hay around the stable. He then vaulted to the bare back of the steed to brush and rebraid his mane. Braiding was a talent he had picked up from the daughter of one of the kitchen maids in his father ’ s house. He ’ d used it on Amelia’s long tresses and taught her to braid her horses ’ manes as well. They ’ d had competitions, figuring out more and more intricate weaves, adding ribbons, wildflowers, and bells to the patterns.
    Hugh smiled at the quiet peace of sitting atop a great hunter in the small stable, braiding his thick mane. Such an odd thing for a baron, he thought suddenly. An odd thing for any peer, any man, really, not of a stable. Yet he knew he ’ d never felt part of the peerage as it was, living so far from London and not trained up like Jackson was. Hugh hadn ’ t been raised with such strict beliefs in the hand of God in who he was. His father simply hadn ’ t had enough interest in it, or him.
    Hugh left off the end of the braid and slid from the horse. He watched Termagant’s eyes blink slowly, and the drowsiness washed over him as well, his head clearer, the pulsing pain subsiding.
    Hugh shook his head and walked out of the stable toward the stable master’s quarters at the end.
    “I ’ m off, Duncan. Termagant is stabled. There ’ s no need to bother with him. I handled him.”
    Duncan shifted on the small crate he used as a stool and nodded stoutly.
    “Lucky ye didna get squashed in there the way ye had that steed worked up, sir,” Duncan said gruffly.
    Hugh nodded and looked away. Perhaps he was of a mind to get brained. He swept the back of his fist across his sweaty brow as he shifted.
    “Yes. To be sure, I was…terribly irresponsible.”
    Duncan grunted then looked back to his card game, and Hugh turned and strode to the town home, sufficiently chastised by a man he’d grown up worshiping for his mastery of animals. The only man in his life to ever show him much interest.
    He marched through the main hall and went straight to his study. The place was large and empty, lonely, abandoned. He supposed it was time to find a wife to fill the nursery. He would speak to Amelia in the