Laughter bubbled inside when the man only softly grunted. She suppressed it and moved to the mounting block to seat herself. Mikhail conferred in the corner with Vladimir. Imperious anger flashed across Mikhail’s face, and his assistant bowed, handed him a basket and, with a stiff nod in her direction, departed.
The exchange had curiosity filling Payton. Mikhail watched Vladimir leave, his face not betraying any of his thoughts. Then he strode to Sage. Payton’s breath hitched at the grace in which Mikhail seated his horse.
They cantered out of the stables. The gentle breeze lifted the tendrils of hair from her forehead. Payton lifted her face to the sun as it crested over the horizon and broke through the darkened clouds, breathing in the fresh crisp scent of the morning. “I do wish I was riding astride.”
His eyes flicked to her. “I will wait if it is your wish to dress accordingly.”
“My mother and aunt would never forgive me if I traipsed around in such garments when amongst such lofty guests,” she admitted on a light laugh, nodding to the few people on the lawn playing croquet.
He nudged his horse closer. “I have seen the duchess riding in breeches.”
“She is a duchess. I daresay she can do whatever she wishes without exciting malicious comments. It is not the same for a mere ‘miss’.”
“And you speak from experience?”
She shrugged, unable to answer because of the sudden tightness in her throat. She did not want to delve into the disappointment and hurt she had endured. Payton would much prefer learning about him. She was no longer naive enough to trust easily but, for the first time in months, she wanted to ride and indulge in laughter and the dance of courtship with a gentleman. Her mother and Aunt Florence would be thrilled to know Payton was moving away from the pain of being jilted, but would be livid to know it was because of a mere mister. “I will admit I have stepped close to society’s flame, and I felt the heat of their displeasure.” More like she had been engulfed in the most painful of fires.
“I am familiar with how unforgiving society can be.”
She gave him a curious smile. “I had not expected a man of affairs to be intimately acquainted with the haute monde.”
Guilt flashed in his eyes, and he looked away from her toward the rolling countryside. “I have been deeply enmeshed in their circles for years now.”
“You have?”
Piercing blue eyes swung back to her. “Yes. I thought you mentioned a race?”
“Then let us ride,” she said, surging her horse ahead.
Without hesitation he tore after her.
Payton laughed in exhilaration at the magnificent speed and grace of the stallion beneath her, delighted that Mikhail was not holding back in his challenge. He was treating her as an equal and not some fragile lady to be cosseted or scolded for her boldness. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, and her heartbeat quickened as they sped past the rolling countryside, a blur of greens and the bright splash of flowers and roses. The steady sounds of hoof beats thumping the ground in a thrilling rhythm urged her to encourage her horse to move faster.
They cut the corner at breakneck speed, and delight pulsed through her veins. She rode the wind, and joy uncurled in her. The power of his stallion outdistanced hers, but she did not care. The very fact he afforded her such freedom, to be wild and daring, thrilled her to her toes.
They swept behind a cusp of trees, slowing their pace. They trotted in companionable silence before halting in a clearing behind a copse of willow trees. A faint sound of gurgling water reached her ears, along with the sweet trilling of birds. Payton could not resist the laugh that pelted from her. It was loud, boisterous, and utterly unladylike, and she did not care. “That was glorious, Mikhail. We must indulge in another race. Next time I will be properly attired, and I am certain I will trounce you.”
“Your laugh…it’s beautiful.”
A sweet ache pulsed in her chest. A memory of chortling too loudly at an intimate garden party Lord Jensen’s mother had hosted blared in Payton’s mind. The viscountess had sniffed, aiming her pointy nose in the air with a caustic comment that Payton laughed like an American. Many of the other ladies had twittered and giggled behind their fans, while her cheeks had burned in mortification. Lord Jensen had not even defended her, only whispering discreetly that she should ignore them, that she was lovely, and they were simply envious.
But this man…he thought her very loud laugh was beautiful. She didn’t want to be captivated, but he was just so intriguing. Payton wasn’t sure if she should trust the feelings of interest curling through her, for it was surely the path to heartache. “When you stare at me so, what are your thoughts?” Oh God, she was being too bold.