Wild Star (Star Quartet 3)

“I want to know what you’re going to do about Wakehurst. Now that Frank Paxton is gone, we’ve no overseer, no one to make those lazy slaves do their work.”

Byrony wanted to stay, but her past experiences with eavesdropping had been too painful. She’d already committed half a sin by listening to as much as she had. Slowly she walked away from the library and back up the stairs. At least, she thought, they were arguing and that was good.

Lizzie had finally gone off to bed. If Byrony had had to endure any more ecstatic chattering about Josh, she would have screamed. Byrony fiddled with the bows on her dressing gown, then walked out onto the balcony. It was so warm, the night still and dark. Not as warm as her lusty afternoon in the woods.

She saw herself astride Brent, crying out with abandon as his fingers caressed her. Oddly, she wondered if Aunt Ida had ever made love with a man. Silly thought. Byrony couldn’t imagine Aunt Ida even taking off her clothes in front of a mirror. But Au

nt Ida had to feel, didn’t she? Byrony shook her head, suddenly feeling so fatigued she could hardly stand. She stared a moment at the empty bed. How she wished Brent would spend the night with her. She missed his warmth, his occasional snoring that made her poke him in the ribs, his gentle kisses that made her wake up to absolute joy.

She fell asleep alone, and awoke the following morning alone, with Lizzie standing over her, chattering away. She felt so tired, but she couldn’t go back to sleep. It was Lizzie’s wedding day. Brent had paid the Reverend Fletcher a goodly sum to come to Wakehurst to perform the ceremony.

She smiled, yawned, and quickly drank a cup of tea before she went about her dressing.

During the brief ceremony, with Lizzie now silent as a stone as she stood beside Josh, Byrony felt Drew’s eyes on her. She swatted at a fly and tried to pay attention to the service. There were at least fifty slaves crowded into the garden to witness the wedding. One woman with six children had run to her and nearly fallen to her knees to kiss Byrony’s feet. “De Lord bless you, missis,” she repeated over and over. Byrony felt deep embarrassment. No human being should ever be placed in such a position.

Byrony felt absolute relief when it was over and the slaves had dispersed and gone back to their compounds. Brent was in conversation with Josh, Laurel with Drew. Byrony made good her escape and went upstairs to change into her riding habit.

Thirty minutes later, she was riding down the long drive, enjoying the breeze in her face. It was with some surprise that she heard pounding hoofbeats behind her. She turned to see Brent, and a smile lit her face.

Brent reined in beside her, took in her smile, but refused to allow himself to smile in response. “You’re not to ride out alone,” he said. “I thought you understood that.”

“I wasn’t going far,” she said. “You were busy with Josh and all the other slaves had left to celebrate.”

“Josh clearly had other things on his mind. He and Lizzie will live in Paxton’s house for the time being. He wanted nothing more than to deflower his bride.”

“She’s so young,” Byrony said. “I hope he doesn’t hurt her.”

“He’s not an animal,” Brent said.

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“Oh? There isn’t too much difference between a virgin of fourteen and a virgin of nineteen, and as I recall, you didn’t experience too much pain.”

She wanted to laugh. “Any pain I felt was worth it, just to see the look of utter chagrin on your face.”

He grinned back at her. “You did take me by surprise, I’ll admit it.”

“How many virgins have you experienced, Brent?”

“Experienced? That’s a novel way of putting it. Not more than a dozen, I expect.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said. He merely cocked a black brow at her. “Can I ask you something, Brent?”

“Go ahead. You will anyway.”

“Why is it you believe a woman is a trollop if she isn’t a virgin?”

His hands tightened on his stallion’s reins. “I don’t,” he said. “What a ridiculous thing to say.”

“You believed I was. Indeed, if I hadn’t been a virgin, I imagine you would still believe me to be a loose female.”

“Don’t be a fool. Come on. Let’s gallop awhile.”

“You are the most stubborn, inconsistent, arrogant man I’ve ever known,” she shouted after him.

When they reached the long drive back to the house some thirty minutes later, Brent grinned over at her and said, “You want to race? Let’s see if your mare has as much conceit as her mistress.”

They raced neck-and-neck up the drive. Byrony knew Brent was keeping a firm control on his stallion, to tease her. Sure enough, just as they came in sight of the house, he let the stallion go, leaving her to stare at his back.