Blackhearts (Blackhearts, #1)(42)

Her thick black hair fell around her shoulders, and she placed

the hat on top of her head. It balanced there for a moment,

before toppling to the ground. Picking it up once more, Anne

tried again, this time jamming it down over her forehead. It was no use. The hat was too small, and she had too much hair.

“Now do you understand why I said I cannot wear it? It

wasn’t out of vanity or pride. I have no quarrel with you. It is simply not possible.” After placing the hat on a hook near the barn door, she moved to gather her hair and restore the cap, but Teach stopped her.

“No, don’t,” he said, his voice gruff. “Let it hang loose.”

She paused, noting the glint in his eyes.

He took the cap from her hands and then held out her

horse’s bridle instead. Not waiting for a response, he led his own stallion from the barn into the courtyard.

Drawing in a deep breath, she followed him. With the reins

clenched in one hand, she walked toward the mounting block.

The heavy skirts hampered her first attempt to mount, for she

was out of practice.

“Allow me,” Teach murmured, stepping up behind her.

“Where is the groom?” Anne asked, looking around.

Teach hoisted her into the sidesaddle. “I gave him the day

off as well.”

Of course he had. Anne had never met anyone like Teach.

He was arrogant and driven, as was his father, but at the same





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time Teach was not above gestures of kindness or consideration, traits he had no doubt inherited from his mother.

Anne could still feel the imprints of his fingers long after

he withdrew his hands. Her heart hammered in her chest, and

she patted the horse’s neck, pretending to calm her down as she stepped sideways. “What’s her name?” Anne asked, waiting for Teach to mount.

Shooting her a mischievous grin, he said, “Queen Anne.”

“You mock me,” she said.

He raised his hands. “What? No, I tell the truth. My father

bought her shortly before I returned.”

“Your father doesn’t believe in naming animals.” Upon her

arrival in the household, she had asked the others the names of

the different horses in the stables. No one had answered, for no one had known.

“Precisely, which is why I have decided to name her Queen Anne.”

“And your stallion’s name? Is it something equally ridicu—

lous? King Edward, perhaps?”

Teach’s grin deepened. “Don’t be silly. It’s Kaiser. Now, are

you ready?”

Kaiser, the German word for “emperor.” “Yes, Your Excellency.”

“Good. Then follow me,” he called out, slapping his reins.

The stallion leapt ahead, and they took off. “If you can!”

Smiling, Anne did as he’d commanded, catching up to him

as he neared her favorite trees outside the property. That was





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the farthest she’d ventured in this direction since arriving in the household. Today would be different.

As the house faded in the distance, Anne leaned forward,

her breath catching in her throat. It was as if she were flying.

With the wind rushing through her hair, her skirts trailing

beneath her, Anne was free once more.

Teach reined his horse and rode beside her, the look on his

face matching hers. He could have outpaced her, for he rode

astride, but he adjusted his speed to hers.

Both of them knew the impropriety of their actions. If

anyone were to find out they’d left together, the consequences

would be dire.

But for the moment neither of them thought about the cost.

For several minutes the only sound that could be heard was

the horses’ hooves as they ate up the ground beneath them,

churning small clumps of earth.

On and on they rode, through fertile fields, toward the surrounding woodlands. Every once in a while they passed a farm—

hand, laboring in the crops, but the riders were too far away and too fast for the laborers to give them more than a passing glance.

It was sometime later when Teach reined in his horse, slow—

ing down to a walk. It had been quite a while since they’d last

seen or heard a passerby. The city of Bristol was well behind

them in the distance. Anne pulled in beside him, aware of the

flush in her cheeks and the tangle of her hair.

“That was . . . amazing,” Anne said, unable to contain her

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joy. It reminded her of spending time with her father, before he’d become ill.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. While I was gone, I was almost

afraid I’d forget how to ride.”

Leaning forward, Anne patted her horse. “You can never

forget something like this.”

“You said your father taught you?”

“Yes, when he had access to horses,” she said, hoping to

steer clear of any personal conversations. She could have told

him her relation to Henry, but she would soon leave Bristol in