To Rescue a Rogue Read Online Free PDF Page A

the way. She went in simple trust.
    There was some moon and her eyes adjusted, but she would have been stumbling and bumbling without his help. Then a golden glimmer broke the dark and she realized it was a lantern. In moments they were at the mews stable yard, surrounded by the familiar smell of horses.
    Mara pulled the blanket up around her head again, but the night air had revived her and she suddenly felt almost happy. She was safe on a lovely moonlit night amid the familiar smells of a stable.
    A creak told her Dare was opening a stall door, but then a sharp voice called, “Who’s there?” A sturdy young man appeared, pistol pointed. Yeovil House was well-guarded.
    He stared at Mara, but then said, “Oh, milord. Sorry, milord.”
    â€œNothing to be sorry for, Adam. I’m pleased you’re so alert. Perhaps you could get Normandy for me.”
    Mara almost spoke, for the name stirred memories. Her brother Simon had always called his favorite horse Hereward after their ancestor who’d led the resistance to the Norman invaders after 1066. Without malice, Dare had paid tribute to the fact that his family had pure Norman roots by using the name Conqueror for his. Not Conqueror now, but a related name, as William the Conqueror had been Duke of Normandy.
    Was there any significance to the change?
    She’d joined in the fun by calling her horse Godiva, after Hereward’s mother, the famous Lady Godiva. Godiva was here in town. Perhaps they could go riding together.
    Despite giving the order, Dare was helping the groom. In this setting he was an intriguing blend of strength and loose-limbed elegance, but completely at home. Not surprising. All the men she knew loved the stables more than the drawing room.
    The men didn’t saddle the big dark horse. Dare dismissed the groom before leaping easily onto Conqueror’s bare back and riding him to the mounting block. “Sit in front, my fair lady.” A smile in his eyes had turned up the brightness of the stars.
    Mara climbed the steps of the block, skirt clutched high. “Like in Young Lochinvar ? How romantic.”
    â€œâ€˜So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung/So light to the saddle before her he sprung!’” he quoted. “Being bareback, in front, seems better.” He extended an arm. “Come on.”
    Getting onto the horse was surprisingly tricky, but Dare put his arm around her waist to hoist her into place, making her breathless. Or perhaps it was the place—nestled between his thighs, that strong arm around her….
    â€œSomeone should revive this fashion of riding,” she said, as they headed out at a walk. “The croupe can’t be nearly as much fun.”
    â€œMara, you’re irrepressible.”
    â€œI hope so,” she said. “I’d hate to be repressed.”
    He’d sounded amused. She could do this. She could bring light into his shadowed world. Or better, lead him into the sunshine.
    Any attempt at speed could draw attention, so they ambled down the back lane and along the quiet streets, the horse swaying beneath them like a cradle. Despite her need to be home, Mara didn’t want this strange journey to end.
    The hooves clopped noisily on cobblestones, but the few people they passed paid them little attention. Dare didn’t seem to want to talk, and that gave Mara time to think.
    It was nine months since Dare had been found, desperately frail from wounds and illness and addicted to opium. From Simon, she knew his physical recovery had been slow but steady. He was healthy now, which was doubtless why he’d finally emerged from seclusion. But he wasn’t his old self. There was something missing.
    For fleeting moments, however, she had amused him and brought the old Dare to life. She must do more of it. Simon would probably see it as interfering, but someone had to crack the walls.
    Yes. Walls. For all his health and composure she sensed that