The Wager Read Online Free PDF Page A

give her time to plan.
    "Betsy, we are going on a journey."
Who knew how it would end?
     
     

 
    Chapter Five
     
    To arrive for three meant setting out early, if
like Catherine you had every intention of stopping for lunch at a posting inn.
Obviously Brook had known she would want to do so. The journey was a pretty
one. Chaloner Court sat in the Hertfordshire
countryside, a few miles north of the market town of
St
Albans
. The travels had been broken at a small coaching inn, where
she found she was expected. He had thought of everything. It was a hostelry
renowned for its excellent food, and Catherine ate a well-prepared luncheon,
before tidying herself and continuing with her journey. Now his machinations
had started she was eager to proceed with the wager.
    She arrived at the gates to the Court to find a
tall, imposing man, wearing the Chaloner livery,
standing in the middle of the drive. The coach stopped and he put his head in
through the window aperture.
    "My Lady, I've been asked to escort you.
Please to step out?" He opened the door and stood, waiting for her to
alight. Puzzled, she stood and let him help her down, to stand on the gravel.
If this was another of Brook's ways to keep her off kilter, then he had
succeeded. Her body was tingling with anticipation, and the butterflies in her
stomach were doing the waltz.
    The man closed the door on an indignant Betsy.
"Your mistress will join you soon, you will be
taken to settle in." He rapped on the side of the coach, and it moved off
at a somewhat faster pace than it had moved before.
    Now
what? Amused rather than
apprehensive she stood next to the… the what ...? Groom, factotum? As the minutes ticked by Catherine began to
feel the chill. The sun might be out, but the nights had not yet drawn out and
as the afternoon passed, what heat in the sun was lost. She shivered, and
wished she had a warmer outfit on. Her travelling dress and cloak were pretty,
and practical, but were for spring sunshine and daytime travelling on a coach,
not standing on a dusty and breezy driveway.
    "My lady, I'm sorry for the delay."
Her companion looked anything but.
    "As I am. And irked, and somewhat out
of sorts. If I contract influenza, what use will I be to your
master?"
    The poor man looked bemused, as well he might.
Behind them she heard the sound of hooves. Moreover, it seemed he heard them as
well, because relief spread all over his face, as he turned. Catherine tried to
resist the temptation to see just who and what was approaching. It was not
possible. She also turned. Cantering toward them was Brook astride one of the
largest horses she had ever seen, and leading a pretty dappled mare. With she noted, a conventional saddle on the spare horse. If it was
for her, she was both delighted and wary. He had remembered one of her greatest
joys in the country was to ride astride, not side saddle. Though dressed as she
was it would not be decorous. She wondered where she was expected to ride to
and why? The Court was less than a mile away. Why take her out of the carriage
just to ride there, at this time of the day. It made no sense.
    "Will you ride…?" He paused and looked
her up and down. Her muscles clenched, and her mouth went dry. The looked
seared her to the center of her soul, and her pulsed raced at his innuendo.
"With me?" he continued. She choked on nothing and he grinned.
      "My
dear, you owe me," he said.
    Catherine glared and he smirked. Her hands once
more itched to touch his skin, and not in an arousing manner. Unless he was one who enjoyed pain. She
gritted her teeth and dipped her head. "Gladly, if it
means this farce will be soon over."
    Brook lifted her so she could swing her leg over
the saddle. His eyes lingered on her ankle, and his hand held on a fraction too
long as he helped her settle her foot in the stirrup. His touch seared her,
when she looked down she was amazed his fingers were not imprinted on her skin.
    "Farce? Not of our making my dear, but if you feel