Blackhearts (Blackhearts, #1)(41)

of the countryside?”

“I would prefer to go to the city.”





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“Fine! I’ll give you more coins after we return from our ride.”

Anne paused for so long that Teach wondered if she had

paid attention.

“If I do this, will you leave me in peace?” she asked.

He hesitated. Ever since he’d set eyes on her, he’d had no

peace. Why should he grant her something that eluded him? “If

after today you find my company so abhorrent, I shall leave you

in peace for the remainder of my days in this house.”

Something in her expression changed. “You give me your

word?”

Teach held his hand up to his chest and bowed slightly at

the waist. “I give you my word.”

Anne nodded and took the red riding habit in her hands.

He had purposefully omitted the words “as a gentleman,”

for he knew she was not foolish enough to believe that.





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C H A P T E R 1 4

Anne

The person in the looking glass was a stranger, although the cap on Anne’s head was recognizable. The bruise from Margery was not as terrible as she’d first thought, although the discoloration was obvious.

Anne could have counted on two hands the number of

times she’d checked her appearance in the past year. During

that time, she’d come to resemble her mother more than ever

before. Gone were the rounded apples of her cheeks. Instead

her face was now framed by high cheekbones, her neck long

and graceful. And the dark circles beneath her eyes were not as

pronounced today as they had been a month ago.

The riding habit was a little longer than she was used to,

the close-fitting jacket made of superior velvet. Anne marveled

at the color. Most of the ones she’d worn when she was younger

had been either blue or green. Teach had told her this had been





14 6


his mother’s riding habit, and Anne admired Mrs. Drummond’s confidence to wear such a vibrant shade of red, like wine fresh from a cask.

Anne told herself she dreaded the upcoming day she was

being forced to spend with Teach, but in reality there was a

light in her eyes and a flush on her face. Carrying the hat in her hands, she went out to the barn, excitement fluttering in her breast at the thought of the excursion.

While the coins were a most welcome addition to her funds,

a ride through the countryside was irreplaceable. She liked to

think Teach had forced her hand. In a way he had. She could

have refused him, but then it would have just been the two of

them alone at the house.

On horseback Anne would have the ability to get away

from him, should he try anything inappropriate.

Anne met Teach as he led his black stallion out of its stall,

Margery’s three-legged cat following behind. What Anne

assumed to be her horse was already tethered to the post.

Teach looked up as she approached. For a moment he froze,

his mouth half-open as if he’d been about to say something.

In an attempt to hide her nervousness, she held out the hat

to him. “Here,” she said.

He cleared his throat and busied himself with the bridle,

but not before she saw a spark of something in his eyes. “You’ll need the hat.”

“I cannot wear it.”





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He stopped what he was doing. “Why not? You can’t ride in your cap. If somebody sees you, they’ll wonder what a maid is doing out riding with her master.”

Irritation flashed through her at his words, even though

she knew he spoke the truth. “Whether I wear the hat or not, I

will still be just a maid. Changing my appearance will not alter that fact.”

“I don’t understand your reluctance. The outfit becomes

you. Simply put on the hat so we can ride.”

She ignored the surge of pleasure at his compliment, knowing he said it only to achieve his end. “It won’t work.”

He ran his fingers through his black hair. “By Jupiter, you

could drive a man to drink. Why? Why do you take every

opportunity to argue with me? If I were to say that the heavens

are blue, I daresay you’d contend that they were green. Do you

take pleasure in provoking me?”

Admittedly, there was a small part of her that did just that.

If she hadn’t worked in his father’s household, she would not

have had to curb her tongue as much as she did. It was a constant struggle to control her feelings, thoughts, and actions. If she said what she was truly thinking, she would no doubt be whipped to within an inch of her life. “You asked me to speak

honestly with you. I am simply telling you the truth. I cannot

wear it, because it won’t fit.”

He looked about to explode from his irritation. “Why, in

the bloody name of all that’s holy—”





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Before he could finish his outburst, she removed her cap.