Tender Torment (17 page)

Marisa lingered in her room until the hour they would normally spend riding together, and she wondered whether the earl would
summon her at the appointed time. She had not gone to breakfast deliberately as a sign
of her continuing displeasure toward him and his previous night’s behavior. When Lucy came in to help complete her morning
toilette the countess inquired, “Has the earl sent me a message this morning?”

“Why, no, my lady,” the maid replied as she held out a peignoir. Then, sensing her mistress’s curiosity, she continued in
a soft voice, “I believe he has left the house already.”

“I see.” So he was going to punish her today by not having her ride with him, Marisa thought. She knew how anxious he was
for her to gain skill in horsemanship. “One of the first prerequisites of a noblewoman is that she possess considerable prowess
on horseback,” he had told her the first day they had gone out together. He had been deeply disappointed by her lack of confidence
in riding and he showed it. That posed a challenge Marisa was determined to meet. She was not yet able to meet it by herself,
it was true. But his going off by himself without her this morning was a rebuff she was not going to take lightly.

“I’ll wear my blue riding habit, Lucy,” she ordered with some irritation in her voice.

“Without his lordship, my lady?” the tiny maid inquired sheepishly.

Marisa huffed with impatience. “Please remember, Lucy, not to ask me the wrong questions at the wrong time.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, my lady. Please forgive me,” Lucy said, knowing she had clearly overstepped her bounds.

Marisa wasn’t sure whether she had been too harsh in her tone toward Lucy. The trouble with having servants, she thought,
was that you can never conceal anything from their eyes. Your privacy is never your own, really. Her observation also made
her pause to reflect on the real possibility that there might be very few advantages to being part of the nobility after all.

Tim, the elderly stable hand, was reluctant to saddle up the chestnut mare that Marisa’s father had purchased especially for
her. The earl had been in a black mood earlier that morning, and Tim figured it had something to do with the absence of the
countess.

“Maybe I’d better ride with you, m’lady,” he said
obligingly. “The earl wouldn’t forgive me if you didn’t have me as a groom.” Marisa agreed but wished even more that she didn’t
have to depend on anyone but herself when it came to riding.

When the mare was brought out of the stable, Marisa’s earlier courage began to wane immediately. Tim helped her into the saddle
and a general uneasiness came upon her. She lacked security and equilibrium on top of this enormous animal that seemed to
have a mind all its own. Every time Marisa rode her, the mare responded differently and today it shrugged more nervously than
ever. Marisa grew increasingly tense, feeling her confidence slip away, knowing the mare was far from docile. She wasn’t sure
she would be able to go through with this after all as her horse darted nervously, lifting a foot, then stomping it with a
menacing uneasiness that sent a flash of panic to Marisa’s stomach.

Tim couldn’t help noticing the fear in her eyes after he was mounted next to her. Leaning across his horse, he warned, “You’re
holding her much too tight, m’lady. Now relax or you might cause her to start.”

Heeding his advice, Marisa loosened her grip slightly, and the two horses walked out side by side along the path. Gradually,
Tim fell back a few paces to let her test her confidence. But as he did, she felt her hands grow damp and clammy as she instinctively
drew more tightly on the reins. Tim gave her a warning call as the distance between them widened, and both horses quickened
to a light trot.

“Wait up, m’lady,” he shouted, not wanting her to get too far away. “Whoa! Pull up your reins and move back in the saddle.”

She tried to follow his instructions, but her tense grip caused her to give the mare an unintentionally hard yank that startled
the animal. Suddenly it reared high into the air, screaming primitively. Marisa rolled sharply to one side, totally off balance.
She was certain she was going down and struggled to regain her proper position. But as she did, the spurs of her right boot
dug hard into the mare’s flesh and the animal bolted ahead uncontrollably, leaving Tim behind.

Terror struck, Marisa screamed as the frightened
horse galloped off in the direction of the forest, her hat flying off her head, her hair tumbling down about her as she swayed
precariously in the saddle to avoid low hanging branches. Her hold on the reins was weakened by two quick and painful jolts
in the saddle, and her heart fluttered when she realized her grip was slipping away. A look back gave her no sign of Tim.
Where was he? How could she have gotten away from him so fast? Now she was somehow going to have to bring this panic-stricken
horse to a halt completely by herself or lord knew what might happen.

Marisa was going to lose the reins, she just knew it. She could feel them slide further with each unexpected bounce from her
mare, and she was powerless to stop it. In desperation, she let the reins drop and then clawed frantically at the horse’s
mane for something to hold onto in order to keep from falling. Woman and animal roared onward together, forming a dusty, thundering
blur along the forest path. Toward what end Marisa could not know.

She was sobbing, oblivious to everything save her own fear, breathless and choking on words which she was paralyzed to release.
Then for a fleeting instant something registered in her brain, a faint but dimly familiar sound that she was not sure she
had heard at all. And then she heard it again, this time more clearly. Hanging on for dear life, she dared a quick look over
her shoulder, fully expecting to see Tim. To her surprise, it was the earl, shouting unintelligibly to her amidst the deafening
rumble of the horse’s hoofs. Again and again he yelled out instructions to her, but as he inched closer, he saw her reins
fluttering aimlessly beneath her, out of her reach. Even if she could hear him clearly, she was totally incapable of helping
herself.

Straeford goaded his stallion ahead with a furious lash of his riding crop. He knew he would be unable to stop her horse,
but if he could get close enough to her… Now his horse was astride hers, and he knew there was only one thing left for him
to do. Leaning far to his right, he waited for just the precise moment, regulating his reins so that both horses swerved nearer
and nearer to one another. And then, with a sweeping whiplike motion,
his right arm encircled her waist, lifted her out of her saddle and clamped her safely on his stallion while her mare raced
blindly ahead.

Marisa collapsed against him in a faint, her breath completely taken away. The earl brought his horse to a standstill and
quickly carried her limp body to a nearby grassy clearing to make her comfortable and examine her injuries.

“M’lord! M’lord!” It was Tim, and he prayed that his mistress was unharmed for he knew that the earl was certain to be angry
with him. “Be she all right, yer lordship?”

“Yes, she’s all right. Just had the wind knocked out of her.” Straeford looked down at the countess nestled in his arms. “What
the devil happened here, man? Why was she alone? She could have been killed!”

“She got away from me so fast, your lordship,” Tim protested weakly. “I tried to get to her, but I couldn’t. Thank God you
came along.”

“Go fetch the other horse,” Straeford commanded sternly, having heard enough of the stable hand’s excuse. “I’ll get the countess
home by myself.”

Marisa’s eyelids moved slightly, and then she groaned. “Don’t try to talk now,” he said, comforting her. “I’ll get you back
to the house in a minute.” He pushed her straying golden curls off her muddied cheek, and then she felt him lift her up once
again. That was the last thing she remembered until she was awakened by soft voices in her own bedroom.

“She’ll be coming around any time now.” It was Straeford whispering to Lucy who hovered anxiously over her mistress. The earl
ran his fingers gently along her face. “Have her rest until dinner,” he said, turning to leave.

“My lord,” Marisa’s voice stopped him at the door. “Please don’t leave,” she importuned as she sat up in her bed.

“But my lady…” Lucy pleaded, “you must rest.”

“Please, Lucy. I would prefer a moment alone with his lordship.”

Straeford’s hand remained on the doorknob even after Lucy had gone.

“Won’t you close the door for a moment? I’d like to speak with you.”

He seemed reluctant as he slowly seated himself on a tufted stool next to her bed.

“I… I want to thank you for what you did this morning…” She started to continue but he interrupted.

“What I want to know is why you did such a damn fool thing.”

His response annoyed Marisa, but she was determined that he would not provoke her this time.

“I did behave rather foolishly, didn’t I?” she agreed, folding her hands demurely in her lap while an ever so slightly reddish
coloring appeared in her face. Her admission surprised Straeford and he asked more kindly, “Why didn’t you tell me you were
afraid of horses?”

“I did!” she said, this time more strongly.

“No, you are quite wrong, my dear. What you said was that you didn’t ride ‘well’.”

“A slight deception,” she smiled weakly.

“Women! Ever deceivers,” he grumbled.

“Well, I didn’t think you would approve if I told you I was afraid.”

“I wouldn’t. That’s true. But that doesn’t mean I expect you to lie to me about it.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” she admitted. “Perhaps I should have told you the truth.” Her willingness to admit her error helped
to mollify the harshness in his stare.

“Why are you afraid?”

“Oh, it’s really a long and unpleasant story I know you will not care to hear. I never have been able to speak of it with
any ease.”

“Why don’t you try telling me. It might help you, you know.” He was actually encouraging her, and this caused her to take
a long suspicious look at him before continuing.

“A few years ago, a friend and I were riding… his horse was difficult to handle, a very temperamental animal… And…” She
sighed to alleviate the rising tension in her voice. Marisa swallowed hard, and he could see her eyes growing misty as she
continued. “… and his horse went wild. My friend was practically stomped to death in front of my eyes and there was absolutely
nothing I could
do to prevent it. He was so badly disfigured from the incident that he never again was quite the same. In fact, he was mentally
disfigured as well, and he ” It was clear she couldn’t continue, and the earl rose to pour her a glass of water from the pitcher
on the bedside table. He sat on the bed next to her as she tried to regain her composure.

“You should not have waited so long to ride again. It gave your fears a chance to get a firm grip on you.”

“I’m just wondering now if I’m ever again going to be able to ride. At this moment I don’t think I could face it.”

“Don’t be foolish, my dear,” he smiled reassuringly and reached out to touch her hand.

“I won’t! I can’t… not after what happened today. I’ll never mount a horse again.”

“Hmm, that’s a pity,” he goaded her gently. “The
haut ton
puts great store in a woman with a good seat, you know.”

“I don’t care,” Marisa pouted. “What difference does that make?”

“I think I could help you overcome your fear if you would be willing to let me. Since you already know the fundamentals of
riding, within a short time you could overcome this unreasonable fear. It’s simply something irrational that you’ve got to
get out of your head.”

Marisa didn’t care for the exact words he chose, but this whole thing seemed to be such a matter of great importance to him
that she found it difficult to resist his urgings.

“Do you really think it’s possible? I mean… you think you can actually teach me to ride without any fear? Oh, I don’t think
I can do it anymore.”

“But of course you can. That is, unless you’re the cowardly type.”

His remark was designed to make Marisa wince and she obliged him. “I… I don’t even know anymore. Tell me, why are you so
anxious to have me learn to ride? Why is this so important, anyway?”

Straeford just shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose I just would not be able to stand seeing the Countess of Straeford accused
of cowardice.”

Marisa winced again at the challenge he reiterated and then took on a pensive look. “I think I would prefer to give this more
thought. Yes, I’d like some rest now.”

“Please do that,” the earl said, rising to leave. “You know that I ride every morning and I’d like you to join me if you decide
to take up my offer.”

Marisa did not immediately respond to the earl’s invitation, but within a few days they were riding together virtually every
morning. Although her fears were still very real every time she approached the saddle, she felt some progress being made through
their daily outings. Best of all, it was an opportunity to be with the earl in a situation where she could not help but admire
his superior skills as a horseman. It was something he did naturally, effortlessly, and it was a source of unending pleasure
to him. He loved talking about horses, studying them, analyzing their movements, comparing their dispositions. And he thoroughly
enjoyed demonstrating his skills and knowledge to Marisa.

Since Marisa had accepted the earl’s challenge to ride with him, things seemed to be going rather well between them, and she
hoped that nothing would change that. Her hopes were dashed at the end of one of their morning riding sessions, however, when
he announced that he had invited several guests for the weekend.

“It’s the Hardings and two other couples,” he said. “When I was in London, I spent my time with some members of Parliament
and the War Office…”

Marisa stiffened as he provided her with the details. His mention of London only forced her to recall how he had abandoned
her so soon after their marriage. She tried to rid herself of her pique, but it just would not go away. He took no notice
of her mounting irritation as he continued his explanation.