Page 69 of Rival to Resist
“Oh, most assuredly.”
Slowly, the foliage began to thin and the sound of waves grew louder as the view opened up to an expanse of pale, untouched sand.
“A ride on the beach?” Mr. Yorke said as they brought their horses to a stop.
Caroline smiled, the salty wind on her cheeks making her body teem with energy. Or perhaps it was the presence of Mr. Yorke in a place she had only ever been on her own. “This beach is only accessible at low tide.” She looked out over the untouched, feral stretch of sand and water. “Richard disliked for me to ride here. He thought it dangerous.”
“And is it?” He looked up at the cliff that towered over them, then to the wave that crashed two dozen feet from the horses’ hooves, its foamy edge creeping toward them until it reached a few feet away, then retreated.
“If the tide is coming in,” she said.
His brow cocked. “Andisit?”
She smiled. “The most dangerous part is up there.” She nodded ahead a hundred or so feet, where the cliff jutted out. They watched as the next wave crashed at its foot, the water splashing up the rock and sprinkling the air.
Mr. Yorke looked at her curiously, as though simultaneously impressed and wary. “Youaretrying to kill me, then.”
She only laughed. “Just beyond it, the stretch of sand is perfect for a gallop.”
“And what happens if we become stranded on that perfect stretch of sand?”
“The longer we sit here discussing it, the more likely it shall be. What do you say? Are you brave enough? For a race, perhaps?”
“Oh,” he said doubtfully, “I do not think that would be wi—” He kicked his heels into his horse, a grin spreading across his face in the second before it left view.
Caroline urged her horse forward frantically as Mr. Yorke glanced over his shoulder.
“Cheater!” Caroline called, but her voice was lost on thewind, which carried Mr. Yorke’s laugh back to her, an aggravating gift.
She began to gain on him as they charged across the sand, skirting the cliff until the muted punch of hooves in sand became splashes. Droplets of saltwater sprinkled Caroline’s face and habit as her horse’s head drew even with the neck of Mr. Yorke’s.
A wave crashed against the cliff ahead, then began its retreat in time for them to gallop through. A glance at Mr. Yorke showed him to be grinning, eyes bright, cheeks wet with spray as their gazes met.
And she felt it.
The connection Eliza had described—the sense of being with a kindred spirit.
She gained ground, their horses nearly head to head as the sand opened up wide, a never-ending blanket of water to their right, the shadow of rugged cliffs to their left. They were hemmed in on both sides, but liberty vibrated through every bone of Caroline’s body.
They passed a large rock in the middle of the expanse, and she pulled up on the reins.
Mr. Yorke glanced over his shoulder and, finding she had slowed, followed suit, guiding his horse back around and returning to her.
Cheeks aching and wind-chapped, she dismounted, drawing a frown from Mr. Yorke.
“Should we not return?” he asked, breathless. “I have no objection to spending the night on this beach, but I cannot thinkyouwould be comfortable.”
Caroline smiled, fixing her gloves. “You may be at peace. The tide is falling.”
He let out a chuckle and swung down from his horse. “You, my lady, are a minx.”
“And you are far too gullible. Perhaps I should make you my candidate, after all.”
His head came around, an exaggerated excitement in his eyes.
She laughed. “As I said…far too gullible.”
Mr. Yorke led his horse toward her, and they began to walk down the beach. “You say gullible; I say hopeful.”
