Forever My Love(5)
Despite his intention to enjoy the meal, he chewed and swallowed without much concentration on its delicate flavors. To him the truffled roast chickens were tasteless, the fresh river trout cooked in Bordeaux wine was uninteresting, as were the braised goose and glazed vegetables. The dinner conversation seemed interminable. On his left sat Lady Clara Ellesmere, the greatest bedhopperin London. On his right, Lady Caroline Lamb, vivacious and vaguely unbalanced. Alec could barely wait for the hunt to begin on the morrow, for at least that reduced life to more basic and less-complicated terms—predator and prey, the chase and the victory. He liked hunting because it was fast-paced, and on the field he could forget about such meaningless, nagging matters as Sackville and his woman.
The difficulty of hunting on the Sackville estate was the quantity of subdivided fields; the vast number of fences and hedges that the riders had to jump over made the sport more hazardous but also more exciting. In order to save the horses from the weary pace of a prolonged chase, each rider possessed two or more mounts, which were exchanged as frequently as necessary. Alec had brought three horses with him, his favorite being the chestnut named Sovereign, a skittish and spirited animal that required a hard ride before the main event began in late morning.
An hour or so after the sun rose, Alec was out riding Sovereign alone. Later in the day he would have to change into appropriate hunting attire, including a top hat and red coat. For now he was dressed casually in a pleated white shirt, tan pantaloons, and cuffed topboots. The morning coolness clung to his clothes and dusted his coal-black hair with sparkling dampness as he rode through the woods. The horse was more nervous than usual and Alec grinned as he decided to give the animal a freer rein.
"All right, boy, we'll work some of the energy out of you," he said, touching his spurless heels to the animal's sides, and they catapulted through the woods at a breakneck pace. The clean, fresh air seared through his lungs, filling his senses with exhilaration. In these few minutes Alec was aware of being completely alive. There was freedom in not having to think, in letting the power of muscle, motion, and reflex take hold of him. They soared over a hedge, the straining urgency of galloping removed for the second that they were airborne, light as a breeze. Then sharp, fleet hooves dug into the ground again and the mad flight continued. Another hedge followed, but just after taking it, Alec saw another fence loom directly in front of him. It was too late to refuse the jump and they were not going fast enough to clear it. He had no time to react before the horse's front hooves clattered against the top rail.
Mira walked through the woods leisurely, swinging a cloth bag as she made her way carefully over the ground. She spent a great part of each morning outside, picking herbs and digging up roots to use in powders and salves. Her dress was a simple and old one, its pale blue color reduced by vigorous washings to a nondescript gray. The hem was cropped to a point between her knees and ankles, almost up to her pantaloons, revealing more of her legs than any respectable woman would ever show. She took care that no one
ever saw her in this outlandish outfit. It made moving much easier, not tangling around her legs as longer skirts tended to do.
Pausing at the distant thunder of hooves, she listened until the sounds stopped abruptly, and she wondered if someone had been thrown. Considerations of her appearance kept her from going immediately in the direction of the hoofbeats. She had no desire to invite ridicule or even worse attentions from whoever might have fallen. But neither could she ignore the possibility that someone had been hurt. After walking for a few minutes, Mira came across a riderless horse, its eyes wild and its sides quivering. The veins in its muzzle and neck were distended and pulsing. The horse stood there as she approached it in a gentle manner, her voice soft.
"Poor animal… my poor one, I won't hurt you. Qu'est-ce que c'est le probleme?" Instinctively she reverted to French, for it was more fluid and calming than the staccato sound of English. "Ou est ton maitre?" Cautiously she took hold of the reins and wound them around a branch before moving in the direction that the horse had come from.
Alec dragged himself against the papery trunk of a tree, his breath hissing through his teeth. His arm, sticking out at an odd angle, had been either broken or dislocated. He felt as if some giant hand had wrenched the limb backward from deep inside his shoulder. The brilliant pain of it caused points of light to dance in front of his eyes, and Alec began to wonder hazily if he should allow himself to pass out. He retained a feeble hold on his consciousness, looking at the broken fence through slitted eyes. Slowly he became aware of an approaching figure. It was her… Mira. Mira in some kind of strange dress, her dark hair gathered in a thick braid that fell to her waist, her expression tinged with an emotion he couldn't identify. How or why she was there, he did not question