“Come,” I begged. “We’re only a couple steps from the top.”
This time, he relaxed enough to disentangle myself. Taking him by the hand, I led the way up the staircase, hugging the wall. When we breached the open air above, a breeze teased my hair, pulling it free of its pins. I ignored the wayward strands as I towed Warren onto the parapet after me. His mouth was set in a thin, grim line, his eyes wide.
“Good grief,” Daisy exclaimed. She skipped over to us, Arthur trailing in her wake. “Is he all right?”
With obvious effort, Warren straightened his shoulders. “Fine,” he ground out. “I just need to sit for a moment.”
I guided him away from the steps so he wouldn’t block anyone. Shakily, he lowered himself to the ground. He sat with his back pressed against the corner forming the wall and a battlement. He leaned his head back against the stone. He looked mighty pale.
“Should I fetch help?” Daisy said, hovering over my shoulder.
“No.” Warren’s voice was as rough as two grating stones. “I’ll be fine in a moment.”
I waved my sister off. “You continue exploring. I’ll wait here with him.”
Narrowing her eyes, Daisy studied us. A clever look overcame her features. Grabbing Arthur by the hand, she harried him down the steps. “The view is beautiful,” she called as she disappeared.
I didn’t much feel like looking at the panorama.
Dropping Warren’s hand, I dug into my reticule. I emerged with smelling salts. After uncorking the vial, I waved the noxious scent beneath his nose.
“Gah!” He recoiled, trying to get away from them, but there was no escape. For all that this was an ancient ruin, the stones still standing were immovable.
He glared at me as I retracted the salts, but at least there was more color in his cheeks.
“What was that for?”
“To rouse you,” I said, tucking away the bottle.
He scowled. “I hadn’t fainted. I’m merely resting a moment.”
I shrugged, but decided not to comment. Not when he wasn’t in a fit state to counter.
He shook his head. His shaggy blond hair obscured his face. “Why do you even carry those?”
“My sister Violet often swoons. I started carrying them out of necessity.” I hadn’t stopped in case Daisy needed the same treatment. She was usually too full of energy to faint, but if she developed a dramatic bone, Heaven help us all.
“The smell is vile.”
“That is the point.”
He sat straighter. Color flushed his face, and he no longer clenched his hands. He ran his fingers through his hair, removing the strands from his face. His eyes, narrowed with accusation, softened. “You can leave,” he said, averting his gaze.
“I’m not completely heartless.” Clearly, he needed me. I squeezed onto my rump beside him. The battlement looked wider than it was. We sat pressing against each other, hip to hip.
I tried to ignore the contact.
“Your actions speak differently. You’re the reason I’m in this state.”
Heat unfurled in his voice now. Good.
I glared at him. “And you’re the reason I nearly fell. You should have told me you were afraid of heights.”
He raised his gaze skyward. “Would it have stopped you from coming up?”
“No,” I admitted. I smiled. “But you didn’t have to follow.”
“It’s too late for talk like that now.”
Indeed it was. He was already up.
A cold fear washed through me. How would I ever get him down again?
I shifted my weight to face him. “Are you strong enough to walk down the steps?”
“Of course.” He groaned as he staggered to his feet. He swayed, but kept his gaze firmly on his toes. Good. Hopefully, spotting the ground wouldn’t send him into a dead faint.
Standing, I fitted myself beneath his left arm. “I’ll walk beside you, just in case.”
“No.” He thrust me away. “You will not.”
I rolled my eyes. He wasn’t paying attention to see. “I’ll walk behind you, then. Is that more to your liking?”
He nodded, but still didn’t meet my gaze.
He fumbled along the wall until we reached the stairs. Our descent was slow, agonizing, and filled with tight silence. When we emerged into the old courtyard, we found it deserted.
I insinuated myself beneath Warren’s arm. He shifted to lean a little of his weight on me, whether he meant to or not. I huffed. He was heavy.
“Do you need to sit?” I forced out the words. I barely had the breath to speak that much.
He nodded. “Please.” He lowered himself onto the steps. I waited, pacing, while he settled his head in his hands.
“Do I need to take out the smelling salts again?”
“No.” He bolted to his feet. He didn’t even sway this time. Pink spots of color bloomed across his cheeks. He strode toward the picnic we’d left.
“Let’s get out of his blasted place.”
A gentleman would apologize for using such language in front of a lady. Not him. I trailed behind as he crossed the ruins in quick, loping steps. When he reached the opening we’d entered by, he stopped short.
He swore under his breath. “Everyone already left.”
I squeezed past him into the open air to see for myself. He was right. Only his horse remained, tethered to a tree branch and chomping at the luscious grass within reach.
Warren rubbed the back of his neck, and turned to me. “There’s nothing for it. You’ll have to share my horse.”
I recoiled. “I think not.” Share his horse? Likely, he meant sit sidesaddle behind him while he rode. No other torment compared to sitting close to such a magnificent beast, only to be denied control.
I lifted my chin into the air before he identified the horse-mad gleam in my eye. I’d hidden it for three years. I could continue a few months more, until after my marriage. By then, the gentleman would already be caught.
I strode past him. “I’ll walk.”
He loped to catch up to me. “I can’t let you walk back to the manor alone. What if you get lost?”
“I’m not some ninny,” I snapped. “I can find my way back to a manor so large, you can see it from here.” I pointed in the direction of the manor. It was little more than a shadow on the horizon, but like Lady Dunlop had mentioned, it shouldn’t be more than an hour’s walk away.
“No.” Warren shook his head. “You’re coming on my horse with me.”
I gritted my teeth. A true gentleman would have offered me the horse, not that I could accept. The moment I settled my feet in the stirrups, I feared I would revert to my wild ways. A few more days. Come the end of the house party, I would…be at the mercy of my father’s choice of groom. Even that might be preferable to spending half an hour pressed against Warren’s back, denied the chance to steer the horse myself.
“I am not riding with you.” His gaze crackled with determination. I refused to stand for it. “I’d rather walk barefoot across coals to the manor than suffer to touch you for the ride.”
His nostrils flared with anger. “Fine,” he snapped. He whirled away from me, showing me his back. “Have it your way.”
He stomped to the horse. A swift yank untied the horse’s reins from the tree branch. Warren lifted his foot to mount the horse. Oh no. If he did that…
“Warren—” I darted forward. “The girdle’s been loosened—”
I didn’t cross more than three paces before he realized that fact for himself. The gelding danced to the side at the sudden weight. The poor creature stepped wrong and screeched. He bucked.
The saddle, loosened, slipped sideways. Warren toppled to the ground, but his foot caught in the stirrup. It strained against the saddle. For one horrifying moment, the horse whinnied, eyes wild as he strained at the air with his hooves. Would the beast fall?
The buckle snapped free with a wicked twing sound. The saddle crashed on top of Warren. The horse stumbled a
way, limping.
Warren turned the air blue with his curses as he shoved the saddle away. I winced. At least he was none the worse for wear. He examined the saddle—the girdle had snapped clean in half. He wouldn’t be able to use it to ride, not without a repair. Even then, I wouldn’t trust it.
After shoving himself to his feet, Warren stomped to the horse. The poor beast, taking cues from Warren’s surly body language, shied away, his ears flat against his head. Warren heaved a sigh.
His demeanor softened. He whispered words in a soft, dulcet tone as he reached for the horse’s rear hoof. I cringed, and crossed the distance to him.
“Not that way,” I called as loud as I dared. I didn’t want to spook the horse. “He’ll kick you in the face.”
Warren stumbled out of striking distance in a hurry. He fixed me with a glower. “And what would you know about horses, Miss Too-Afraid-To-Ride?”
Oh, that was rich, coming from someone too afraid to climb to the top of a flight of steps. I withheld the comment. He had been vulnerable, then. I wasn’t afraid of horses, little did he know.
I shouldered him aside. “I know more than you, apparently.”
I faced the rear of the horse, standing against the horse’s hip. With one hand, I reached down, running my hand along the horse’s hock until I found the tendon just above the hoof. I squeezed. The gelding lifted the injured hoof.
I frowned at the tangle of mud lodged in the frog of the hoof. Did they not clean the horse’s hooves before taking him out? I would have to have a word with the stable men.
I pressed my lips together at the uncomfortable realization that I sounded just like Mary, only I defended horses instead of women. A far from winsome quality in a wife.
“Do you have a belt knife on you?” I asked Warren. “Anything sharp will do.”
“Why?”
He didn’t dig through his pockets. He must not carry a knife. I juggled the horse’s foot as I stripped off my gloves. I used my pinky finger to dig into the crevice. Along with copious amounts of packed dirt, I dislodged a small stone.
“There,” I cooed to the horse, patting his rump as I let the hoof fall to the ground once more. “That feels better, doesn’t it, boy?”
Just to be sure, I checked the other three hooves and gave them the same treatment. Gunk smeared my hands by the time I finished. I tugged my gloves back into place to hide them. I’d have Emily wash them when I returned to the manor.
Straightening, I fixed Warren with an arch stare. He’d followed me as I circled the horse, but hadn’t said a word.
I braced my hands on my hips. “I suppose if you can’t check a hoof, you can’t ride bareback.”
His eyebrows snapped down in a scowl, but I knew I was right. Riding bareback wasn’t nearly as easy as using stirrups to help steady yourself. It required skill and practice. I turned my back to him.
“Cover your eyes.”
“What?”
I didn’t wait for him to do it, but hiked my skirts clear up to my waist, grabbed a fist full of the horse’s mane near the base of his neck, and launched myself onto his back. My skirts bunched around my thighs as I settled myself. An inch of bare skin showed above my stockings. I tried to smooth my skirts over my legs as much as possible, but couldn’t without ripping them.
Emily would disown me if I did. She was miffed enough over the ruined dress from Friday.
I leaned forward, catching the reins where they trailed along the ground. They slipped from my fingers. Too far away. Without being asked, Warren guided the reins around the horse’s head. He handed them to me.
“Thank you,” I said.
His gaze was rapt to my legs where I clutched the horse’s flank. I sighed. “I told you to shut your eyes. Now, come here. There’s room for both of us atop this beast.”
With a dazed expression, still ogling my bare legs, he approached my right side. Clearly, the sight distracted him.
“Not that side,” I snapped. “Always mount from the left side.”
He scowled. “I know that.”
Better he think my high color was from anger rather than embarrassment. I stiffened my back as he came around.
He’s the only person to see. No matter how many times I silently repeated the phrase, my mortification didn’t lessen. If anything, it made matters worse. Now every time I looked at him, I would know he knew exactly what I hid beneath my skirts. At least last night, behind the stables, the darkness had concealed the shape of my legs.
I faced forward, but offered him a hand up. He ignored it. He braced his hands on the horse’s rump and levered himself up. He nearly fell off the other side.
“Hold onto me,” I commanded. “I’ll keep you steady.”
He scooted forward until his front pressed along my back. He still hadn’t said a word. I swallowed. That was a bad sign, wasn’t it? At least I hadn’t entertained him as an option for marriage.
His appalling response to my behavior stung, nevertheless. Mary asked why I didn’t want the gathering to know of my riding expertise? This was why.
Exhilaration pounded through my veins as the gelding shifted position. This one was short—he couldn’t be taller than fourteen hands. At his shoulders, he stood as tall as my chest. But perched atop him, my blood sang like I had my head in the clouds. The horse was glory incarnate. His muscles bunched between my legs. I held him steady as I waited for Warren to adjust.
“Keep your heels down,” I instructed. “Toes pointed up so you don’t fall. And grip with your calves.”
That knocked him out of his reverie. He tightened his hold around my waist. “I know how to ride.”
I smiled. “Good. That’s encouraging. Then you won’t fall off when I do this—”
I dug my heels into the horse’s flank, moving them back toward the rear. The steed, well trained, flew into a canter. I leaned over his haunches for balance. Warren pressed himself against me as he yelped.
Now this…this was what horses were made to do. I gave the gelding his head, letting it bob and sway as he picked his way over the field. We shouldn’t ride so fast—rabbit holes might riddle the field, traps for the horse’s round hooves—but I couldn’t help myself. It was glorious. The wind whipped my hair from its pins. It tumbled down my back and into Warren’s face. I whooped in glee.
Ahead, a line of bushes barred us from a track through a grove of trees. The bushes were small, only knee high if I had been standing. I turned the gelding toward them.
“Let’s see what you have, boy.” I patted his neck.
Warren’s arm convulsed, holding me tighter and squeezing out my breath. I elbowed him back.
“What are you doing?”
“It’ll be fine,” I called over the horse’s hooves. “Close your eyes and let the horse’s body guide your stance.”
The bushes loomed closer. I shifted my grip with my calves and prepared to fly over those bushes. I leaned forward, shifting my weight almost into a standing position. Without a saddle, this part was tricky. But the threat of falling—even into those bushes—increased my exhilaration. My heart pounded with glee.
Three more strides. Two…
The horse launched into the air. I rose higher, following the curve of the horse’s neck as he cleared the bushes with inches to spare beneath his belly. He landed smoothly. Warren’s weight unsettled me a bit. I sat down and tightened the muscles in my rump, signaling for the horse to slow at the same time as I gave the reins a light tug. The horse settled into a trot, then a walk.
“You’re a bloody savage!”
Warren retracted his arms from around my waist one at a time, shaking them out. He replaced them, resting them lightly on my hips.
“Don’t be a child,” I said, canting my head so the words would carry over my shoulder. I moved easily with the horse. In fact, I longed to guide the beast into another trot, but I decided to play nice with Warren. He deserved some time to recover, didn’t he?
His breath tickled the back of my head a
s he shook his head. “I don’t understand. If you can ride, why didn’t you?”
I pulled the horse to a stop so I could twist to face him. An awkward position, but at least I looked him in the eye. The dappled shadows cast by the wan sunlight between the foliage shadowed his eyes. They were deep with color, unreadable.
“Reputable ladies don’t ride,” I told him. “At least, not the way I do.”
He frowned. He opened his mouth, but whether it was to agree with me or to refute me, I didn’t care. I wagged my finger beneath his nose.
“Don’t you dare tell a soul about this. If you do, I swear on my grandmother’s grave, I’ll tell everyone you compromised me while we were alone, and you’ll be stuck with me forever.”
Neither of us wanted that.
He shut his mouth again, though his eyes glowed with something I’d rather not decipher. I’d made him angry, and we were the only people around, with no witnesses. Though, if I had to, I could unhorse him in a pinch.
I faced forward again and urged the horse to a quick walk. Warren didn’t say anything, but the silence hung over me like a heavy, cloying blanket. By the time we breached the tree line and the manor and stables came into view, my breath came in pants.
“Dismount,” I told Warren.
“Why?” he said, even as he complied.
I swung my leg over the beast’s back and followed him down. I shook my skirts into place as I answered. “I can’t be seen riding into Lady Dunlop’s yard like a hoyden. What would people think?”
I pulled the reins from around the horse’s head and planted them squarely in Warren’s palm. I folded his fingers around them.
“Don’t you dare tell anyone about this.”
My fierce countenance—or else my earlier threat—must have scared some sense into him, because he drawled, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Good,” I said. “And see that the horse gets a hot mash. He deserves it.”
I strode away from Warren, taking a roundabout route back to the manor. Alone.
Chapter Thirteen
The thrill from riding yesterday haunted me throughout the evening and into bed. I dreamed of vast fields, of the grasses blurring together as I flew over them, one with my horse. When Emily roused me for breakfast, I still couldn’t shake that feverish feeling in my veins.
How to Play the Game of Love (Ladies of Passion) Page 14
