The Liberation Of Miss Finch. Diane Gaston

claimed to have changed her mind. No one would miss her. No one would think it odd that she spent the afternoon out of doors.

      She finally reached the crest of the hill, breathing hard, more from excitement than from the climb. Shading her eyes with her hand, she gazed into the valley.

      And saw him.

      Claude was riding the chestnut horse and leading the dun. Her heart swelled into her throat. Even at this distance his form on horseback stirred her. Claude rode a horse with grace and strength, as if he and the animal were one.

      He looked her way and increased his pace. Louisa waved. Gathering her skirt in her hands again, she ran down the hill, eager to be with him.

      He dismounted as she came near, removing his hat and showing thick dark hair that she longed to comb with her fingers. His startlingly blue eyes were shuttered and, unlike the previous day, he held back from her.

      His unexpected reserve halted her as effectively as if it had been a stone barrier.

      “You are prompt,” she said, but her tone was clipped.

      His smile appeared to come with effort. “Are you ready to ride?”

      Why this change in him? She vowed to find out.

      But this was not the time. Instead she glanced towards the beautiful horse. “I am ready to ride.”

      He extended his hand and helped her mount, sending sparks of pleasure through her and making her crave a more intimate touch. When he adjusted the side-saddle to her comfort, it was all she could do to keep her hands from touching him.

      She scanned the blue sky with its puffs of white clouds like sheep dotting a field. Suddenly happiness blossomed inside her. It was a beautiful day. Claude was by her side. Once more they would gallop over the fields together. If that was all she would be given, it was so much more than she’d possessed two days before.