d side by side they moved off along the lane. There was a sandy bridle path through Boxrey Wood, winding a little at first, then straightening out into a downhill ride which gave them an opportunity to put on more speed.
Juniper's superior style soon told. Emma, on her more sedate mount, came along in Ross's wake, eyeing him with a deepening sense of resentment. There was something about his back, about the tilt of his head, that shouted triumph at her. He was enjoying himself.
He waited for her at the far end, watching her approach with a little smile on that well-cut mouth. Even at a distance she could not fail to catch the smug self-satisfaction in his eyes as they flickered over her.
She drew rein and eyed him back resentfully.
He grinned. 'Slow but steady does it!'
'Pleased with yourself, aren't you?'
Laughter filled his gaze. 'My, my, we are cross, aren't we?'
'I feel like…like a…' Words failed her. 'Trailing along behind you like that!'
'Like a squaw?' He was openly laughing now. It was maddening. 'Well, you could hardly ride my horse, could you? A tiny creature like you! You'd never hold him.'
'Oh, wouldn't I? Try me!' She was blazing now.
'Reckless girl,' he teased. 'Of course you couldn't. Your wrists aren't strong enough to hold him.'
'Get down and let me try,' she challenged.
His smile vanished. 'No,' he said firmly. 'Don't be absurd!' Turning Juniper, he headed back towards the stables. Emma rode behind him in silence, rigid with irritation. In the yard he slid down and turned to greet Lucy, who came out in some surprise to greet them.
'You're back early—' she began, then broke off in astonishment as Emma, having dismounted from her quiet grey, snatched the reins from Ross's unwary hand, mounted Juniper and was off in a flash.
'My God,' Ross ground out in incredulous alarm. 'She's mad! That demon of a horse will half kill her!' He looked at Marcy and discounted her, raced into another stall and brought out a sinewy black horse which he mounted bareback. Ted ran out cursing and protesting.
'Ross knows what he's doing,' Lucy dismissed as Ross and the black disappeared after Emma.
'I hope he does,' Ted growled, 'or he'll be a dead man! Dancer cannot abide a strange rider.' He shook his head ominously. 'He may ride pretty well, but he doesn't know all Dancer's wicked tricks. He's a death-trap on four legs, that horse!'
CHAPTER SEVEN
Emma was already regretting her impulsive display. Her common sense told her that Juniper had been excited by her sudden switch of mounts. Horses sensed the emotions of their riders. The big bay's shoulders heaved nervously, his ears flicked back and forth, as he headed straight for the wood. When, deciding to return and eat the humble pie Ross would undoubtedly demand of her, Emma tried to turn his head and go back, the bay flung up his head with a shrill whinny and held fiercely to his course, ignoring her hands and knees, the command of her voice.
She tried again, with all her determination, but Juniper was immovable. He was under the trees now, his sweating coat dappled by autumn sunlight. His pace quickened, he turned off the sandy bridle path into the thicker tangle of trees and brushwood which wound deeper into the wood, the paths narrow and criss-crossed, becoming more like rabbit tracks than real paths. Birds flew up on all sides, making distinctive alarm calls. Juniper snorted and tossed his head, his muscles rippling under his glossy coat.
She tried again to calm him, leaning forward, her hand smoothing his flanks, whispering gently, with an air meant to reassure him and bring him back to himself.
'Good boy, Juniper…good boy…'
He plunged and fretted, trying to dislodge her. A man-high gorse bush sent thin needles of thorns into her calves. She winced and tried to move Juniper away, but he was desperate to throw her, to rid himself of this unwanted burden, and his plunging continued.
Suddenly she heard hooves thudding, hard and rhythmically on the sandy track, somewhere close by, and called as loudly as she could, hoping her voice would carry above the sound. She knew who it was—knew who it must be, and her heart contracted with pleasure and relief knowing that Ross was coming.
'Ross! Ross! Over here…'
He had heard the sounds of Juniper before she called, and had turned off in pursuit of them. Emma heard the cracking of twigs, the snapping of branches, behind her, then a great black horse appeared, with Ross barely holding him, riding bareback, his thigh almost seemingly part of the great animal, which snorted and twisted yet was held in control by that invisible power of will which the man exerted.
Ross looked, indeed, at that moment, like an avenging fury; his dark brows drawn in a black bar above his eyes, his hair blown into wildness by the wind. He was white as he glared at her, his eyes like chips of granite, narrowed in rage.
'My God, you don't deserve to be alive! You stupid, damnable girl! When I think what could have happened…' His teeth ground together as he swallowed the rest of the words.
'I'm sorry, Ross.' Her voice came faint and ashamed, but she met his furious gaze, head lifted, not in defiance but with self-disgust. She had risked her own life and that of the horse when she flung off in a temper just to show Ross that she was as good a rider as he was…she had been showing off. It was indefensible.
'I should hope you were,' he said tightly.