Daughters of the Summer Storm Frances Statham (bill gates book recommendations .TXT) 📖

"Xangu," he shouted. And when the boy appeared, the conde said, "Saddle the mare with the condessa's saddle, immediately. The senhorita wishes to show off her horsemanship."

Even his choice of words antagonized her. But she would not let him know it. Instead, Maranta would show the superior, arrogant conde just how good she was at sitting a horse.

When the mare was brought out, Maranta was perplexed. No sidesaddle, as she had been used to, but a smaller saddle similar to the conde's had been placed on the mare's back. Maranta looked down at her blue dress, and then to the saddled mare. Inadvertently, she caught the glint in the conde's eyes.

"There has been some mistake, senhor," she said, now furious at his joke. "You know I cannot ride in that type saddle."

"The only mistake, pequena, is in your dress. I suggest you run inside and borrow one of Mãe's riding habits. It will be much more suitable. But hurry, the wine is already getting hot."

So he thought he was going to get the better of her. Well, she would show him. And it would be his own fault if everything in the picnic basket were spoiled before she came out again.

Dona Isobel was helpful, even to finding a hat to shade Maranta's face from the sun. Luckily, the black divided riding skirt fit, even though it was quite old. And the hat, black also, was trimmed in silver, like the skirt.

Maranta hurried back into the courtyard where the conde waited. "Good. That is much better," he voiced, giving his reluctant approval to Maranta's costume. "And it did not take you forever, as I feared," he added.

Awkwardly, Maranta sat astride the little mare. "Do not worry, pequena," Ruis said, sensing her uncomfortable feeling. "There is no one to censure you for riding like a man. And once you are used to it, you will see the advantages. Unlike Innocencia, you have much courage."

Hearing the man speak of his wife was reassuring to Maranta, even though his words were not flattering. Yet, he never mentioned Vasco, his brother. And Maranta, too shy to ask anything about the man who was waiting for her, said nothing but followed the conde out the gates into the street.

The little mare, ridden by Maranta, trotted alongside the black stallion—up the hilly path away from the city of São Paulo.

She was still not comfortable, riding astride, but Maranta gave no indication of it to her companion, Ruis da Monteiro. Her black, three-cornered suede hat, a smaller, more elegant version of the gaucho's hat, shaded her pale complexion from the sun and hid from view her serious, dark eyes with their worried thoughts mirrored in them.

For a long time, they met no one else on the road. Occasionally, a group of pilgrims made their way down the path from the hills—some on foot, some in litters, or palanquins, similar to the pictures Maranta had seen in the court of the Great Khans.

And for this occasional greeting when they met, Maranta was thankful. It had not occurred to her that she would be so alone with this arrogant, dark man. And she wondered why Dona Isobel had not objected to her journey. But then, Maranta remembered. Ruis da Monteiro made his own laws. And if he decided to ride off, leaving her in the hills, or even to take her virtue, there was no one to condemn him.

The wind whipped a strand of hair into Maranta's eyes, and the mare slowed her gait when she felt the slight tug on her reins. By the time Maranta's vision cleared, and she had righted her hat, Ruis and the black stallion were nowhere in sight.

Panic seized her, and as Maranta urged the mare on, her voice called out, "Ruis, Ruis." Around the bend in the road she went, and then she saw the black stallion, waiting.

The conde's eyes were on Maranta's terrified face, and when she caught up with him, she saw a strange expression flicker across the man's features. "You thought I had left you, pequena?" he asked.

"My hair got in my eyes, and when I looked up. . ."

"The bend in the road is sharp. And I did not realize you had stopped," he explained.

Ruis got off Diabo and, surveying the ground near the road, he said, "This is as good a place as any to have our lunch. You are hungry, Maranta?"

His sudden use of her name made her wary of him. She had become used to his calling her pequena or menina, as if she were a child and beneath his notice. And she was not sure she liked his reverting to calling her by her proper name.

"I am very thirsty," she acknowledged. She blushed as he continued staring at her; for now she had to decide how to get down from the horse.

Ruis suddenly laughed, as if he had become conscious of her dilemma.

"You swing one leg over the horse, pequena," he advised.

"Well, you don't have to stare at me while I attempt it."

He ignored the petulance in her voice, and before she knew it, Maranta was lifted off the horse and placed on the ground by the arrogant conde in his black cape. "This will solve your problem," he said, "until you have practiced."

The hard object at the conde's side dug into her flesh and made Maranta aware of the wildness of the countryside. He was wearing a gun.

"Are there jaguars in this area?" she asked.

"An occasional one," he answered, "although snakes are far more prevalent."

Maranta shuddered and looked toward the group of rocks not far from the road.

"We will avoid the rocks," he said, following the direction of her gaze. "There is a spring not far from here—a more suitable place to spread our lunch."

With the mare's reins in her hands, she walked behind Ruis until he ordered her to stop. "Wait here," he said, "until I see that the area is safe."

Soon he was back