Heartstrings Read Online Free Page A

maniac.”
    He gaped at her. “I may not?”
    “No. The word maniac is used for humans only. And I will have you know that my bird is an African gray, a species of parrot that is very much admired throughout the civilized world.”
    “Oh, of all the—I don’t care if that feathered maniac’s a Japanese purple, my word choices are none of your blasted business! And you’ve got some damned nerve telling me I can’t ride, lady.” He swiped his hat from the stone-peppered road. “I can’t remember a single day of my life when I haven’t mounted a horse!”
    “My goodness, sir, you are becoming crazed.”
    “ I’m crazy? All I was doing was riding into town! You’re the one who was running all over the place chasing a pampered parrot and correcting people’s word choices!”
    Theodosia walked into the shade beneath a towering oak.
    Through narrowed eyes the man watched her. Her gently rounded hips swayed, and her dark blue traveling suit hugged her tiny waist and rustled around what he guessed were long, slender legs.
    He could see nothing of her breasts; her damned bird snuggled against her chest. And since he’d been too angry to notice her bosom before, he couldn’t remember if it was small, or the big and full kind he liked.
    Liked? He didn’t like this woman at all. Even if she did have big full breasts, he wasn’t going to like her.
    Still, he mused, he didn’t have to like her to appreciate her looks. Indeed, in his opinion big full breasts had a lot to do with the one and only thing women were good for.
    “Your quick temper is interesting, sir,” Theodosia announced abruptly, her skirts brushing across thick patches of bluebonnets and orange-red Indian paintbrush. “Oh, I realize that falling into a hill of reeking fertilizer is far from a pleasant experience, but you became instantly livid. So much so that I wondered if some form of cicuration would be necessary.”
    So intently was he watching her, he barely heard her. But after a moment of thought, he realized what she’d said. His eyes widened to such an extent, his eyelids ached. “Good God, do all northern women go around threatening men with castration?”
    She cocked her head slightly. “Whatever are you talking about, sir? I said nothing at all about castration.”
    “You said—”
    “ Cicuration. To cicurate is to calm. To tame. Your ferocity made me wonder if I would have to somehow coax you out of your frenzied state.”
    He frowned, no more able to comprehend what she had said than he could understand why he was still here listening to her. “Lady, I get the feeling you must be some sort of genius, but I’ll be damned if you aren’t a lunatic, too.”
    He stalked over to his horse.
    “My brother-in-law, Upton, and I studied the emotion of anger at great length a few years ago,” Theodosia elaborated, watching him mount and settle his large frame into the saddle. “We became interested in psychology, and it was most fascinating. Our research taught us that many people who possess quick tempers underwent various and extended forms of strain and or grief during their childhoods. But of course, there are also people who possess violent characters because they were extremely spoiled as children. Which is it in your case, sir?”
    Surprise, like an unseen fist, hit him hard.
    Strain and grief.
    How had this woman guessed?
    He slid his hat on. Without another word to her, he urged his stallion into an easy canter toward town.
     
    O nce he arrived at the train station, Roman Montana dismounted, tied his horse to a post, and dug into his saddlebag for the sign he was to use to find the woman Dr. Wallaby had sent him to meet. Upon withdrawing the sign, he looked at the name on it.
    Theodosia Worth.
    “Theodosia,” he muttered. Peculiar name. He wondered if she was as odd as her name. Maybe.
    But no one could be as strange as the woman he’d just left outside town.
    Thank God for that.
    “Nice horse,” a deep voice said from