The Only One Read Online Free

with his new horse. The black demon raced like the wind. Giles kicked his heels into Gent’s sides. Lying low, he swayed with his steed’s pounding rhythm.
    A cloud of dust trailed behind the horse and rider he chased. A wail echoed from the trees, sounding strangely like laughter. Giles dismissed the ludicrous idea. The boy must be scared half out of his mind. He could be killed. Giles urged Gent faster.
    A phenomenal creature, the black’s whizzing hooves blurred a hazy motion as if his feet never touched earth. The stallion dashed across the meadow, but Giles was gaining ground.
    Almost.
    Just a bit closer . . .
    He held one arm in readiness. Coming abreast he snatched the boy from the stallion’s back and plopped the squirming body onto his lap.
    The lad fought him. What the devil?
    “Calm down, you little rapscallion.”
    Giles brought his horse to a slow canter, then stopped. The lad continued to struggle. Suddenly he felt curves which did not belong on a lad.
    “Let me go!”
    The boy—or was it a girl —continued to squirm. Giles let go and the youngster landed on the ground. Her cap fell off and masses of hair tumbled down in long, brilliant, golden waves, catching the sun’s glint just right.
    His eyes examined the girl’s furious face.
    “What do you think you’re doing?” A raging spitfire full of venom, she yelled at him. “He’ll run away!”
    “You should not be on a horse you can’t control,” he growled.
    Her hands fisted and her cheeks reddened with anger. “I know how to ride a horse.”
    “Didn’t appear that way to me. He seemed spooked. I thought you needed help.”
    “ Help? You let my horse get away.”
    Did the urchin work for Carmichael? Who in God’s name would allow their daughter to run around dressed in boys’ clothing, acting like a wild heathen?
    “I rescued you.” His voice rumbled with irritation.
    “I did not need rescuing.” She stepped closer and boldly stared into his eyes, clearly revealing her ire. “I’ll have you know I can ride a horse better than any man.”
    He couldn’t help it. A bark of laughter burst from his throat. Then he shifted in the saddle and narrowed his eyes with an accusing glare. “Were you stealing that horse?”
    “Of course not,” she choked. “He belongs to me.”
    “You? I beg your pardon, I believe Mr. Carmichael just bought that very horse at auction.”
    “And you may very well have just cost him a stallion.” She turned to gaze at the retreating horse. “He’s in unfamiliar surroundings. He doesn’t yet know this is his home.”
    Home? Leaving the inn at sunup, Giles had proceeded to Carmichael’s plantation. The directions were simple enough, and the notable landmark a mile or so back, suggested he neared his destination.
    “So we’re on Carmichael land?”
    “Yes.” She shielded her eyes as her gaze met his.
    The girl seemed a bit uneasy. Whether she stole the horse or not, he would acquire her identity and gain the connection she claimed to Carmichael. If he were to acquire the answers he sought, some of his ducal charm might be called for.
    He climbed down from his horse to be on equal footing. “Forgive me. Mr. Carmichael invited me to his plantation. My name is Giles Litscomb.” He removed his hat and gave a slight bow. A female was a female, whatever the clothing, and his aristocratic heritage demanded he behave in a gentlemanly fashion.
    The chit blushed. “I . . . I know who you are.”
    “You do?” he asked in a bored voice, but his curiosity prickled.
    “I’m Alex. Alexandria.”
    He waited, giving her the opportunity to explain her connection. When she offered no further explanation, he prodded.
    “And?”
    “James Carmichael is my father.”
    Well, well. That explains a lot.
    So this was the heathen? He remembered the youngest Carmichael was a girl. He had a devil of a time hiding his surprise. Alex? Short for Alexandria. A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth.
    “Miss Carmichael. It is