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Authors: Christine Merrill
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his passenger a brief warning and took the horses up a steep embankment, in an effort to find higher ground for them.
And since he’d put his hand on her waist to steady her, it had seemed only natural to leave it there and enjoy the warmth of her ribs. It was a shame that she did not see beauty when she looked into the mirror, for he found nothing wrong with her. Perhaps she was tall for a woman, but there was nothing in the least masculine about the rest of her. He spread his fingers to span as much of her as he could, easing her body back against him.
She responded by nestling closer. She relaxed against him, almost as if it required conscious effort to depend on the strength of another.
And he wanted to be her strength. In the years he had worked for Folbroke and doted on the man’s wife, she had never once shown an interest in his past. They had been friends, of course, but not particularly close.
But in less than a day together, Lady Drusilla Rudney had ferreted out the truth of his birth and forged a connection between them. This trip was not the only time she’d felt alone. He could see it in her guarded eyes, in the way she held herself, carefully self-contained at all times, and the way she was leaning into him, unguarded and fragile.
Because of that fragility, he was a danger to her. Though his mind might want to reach out and comfort, his body felt the flesh-and-blood woman beside him and wanted a much more earthy connection. The movement of the horse shifted her against him and he had idle thoughts of stretching his fingers upwards to graze the bottoms of her breasts. And each change in gait raised a fresh fantasy as she rocked against him. Walking brought to mind a languid afternoon of love making. A canter made him think of a quick coupling and fear of discovery. And as he nudged them to a full gallop, he thought of a night of wild, uncontrolled, vigorous…
‘Mr Hendricks!’
Chapter Six
H e pulled on the reins, bringing the horse up short, suddenly afraid that she had guessed the contents of his mind or felt his obvious physical response. ‘My lady?’
He glanced around him, checking his surroundings, his watch and his compass, and comparing the results to the last mile marker he had seen to pretend that their progress had been the only thing on his mind.
‘Could we stop to rest? I think—’
‘An excellent idea.’ He practically leapt from the horse, helping her down and stepping quickly away from her. ‘The stand of trees over there looks quite inviting.’ He waited for the rebuke that must be coming. There should be shock and outrage, or at least some sign that she feared to be near him.
Instead, she was biting her lip as though unsure what to say or do next. Then she gave a hesitant nod and half-muttered, ‘Perhaps that is it. I need to rest.’
He let out a sigh of relief. She did not seem to be worrying about him at all. ‘Was the ride tiring for you?’ He offered her an arm to help her over the uneven ground as they walked the horses towards a stream by the grove.
She gave an uneasy laugh. ‘I fear I do not make the best passenger. I could not seem to sit still.’ There was a gruffness about her words, as though they were more denial than total innocence. But the look in her eyes was confusion, and perhaps embarrassment. It seemed he was not the only one affected by their nearness.
‘It did not bother me overly,’ he said, for it hardly seemed fair to call such pleasant sensations an annoyance.
‘All the same, I do not think I wish to ride that way any longer. Is there no other way?’ She was looking at him, vulnerable and desperate, trusting that he would understand and help her. And though he wanted nothing more than to tumble her in the grass, or sweep her into his arms and back into the saddle, he knew that he would not.
He stared at her, wondering if he dared suggest what he was thinking. ‘There is a way that we can make better progress, if you are willing to
And since he’d put his hand on her waist to steady her, it had seemed only natural to leave it there and enjoy the warmth of her ribs. It was a shame that she did not see beauty when she looked into the mirror, for he found nothing wrong with her. Perhaps she was tall for a woman, but there was nothing in the least masculine about the rest of her. He spread his fingers to span as much of her as he could, easing her body back against him.
She responded by nestling closer. She relaxed against him, almost as if it required conscious effort to depend on the strength of another.
And he wanted to be her strength. In the years he had worked for Folbroke and doted on the man’s wife, she had never once shown an interest in his past. They had been friends, of course, but not particularly close.
But in less than a day together, Lady Drusilla Rudney had ferreted out the truth of his birth and forged a connection between them. This trip was not the only time she’d felt alone. He could see it in her guarded eyes, in the way she held herself, carefully self-contained at all times, and the way she was leaning into him, unguarded and fragile.
Because of that fragility, he was a danger to her. Though his mind might want to reach out and comfort, his body felt the flesh-and-blood woman beside him and wanted a much more earthy connection. The movement of the horse shifted her against him and he had idle thoughts of stretching his fingers upwards to graze the bottoms of her breasts. And each change in gait raised a fresh fantasy as she rocked against him. Walking brought to mind a languid afternoon of love making. A canter made him think of a quick coupling and fear of discovery. And as he nudged them to a full gallop, he thought of a night of wild, uncontrolled, vigorous…
‘Mr Hendricks!’
Chapter Six
H e pulled on the reins, bringing the horse up short, suddenly afraid that she had guessed the contents of his mind or felt his obvious physical response. ‘My lady?’
He glanced around him, checking his surroundings, his watch and his compass, and comparing the results to the last mile marker he had seen to pretend that their progress had been the only thing on his mind.
‘Could we stop to rest? I think—’
‘An excellent idea.’ He practically leapt from the horse, helping her down and stepping quickly away from her. ‘The stand of trees over there looks quite inviting.’ He waited for the rebuke that must be coming. There should be shock and outrage, or at least some sign that she feared to be near him.
Instead, she was biting her lip as though unsure what to say or do next. Then she gave a hesitant nod and half-muttered, ‘Perhaps that is it. I need to rest.’
He let out a sigh of relief. She did not seem to be worrying about him at all. ‘Was the ride tiring for you?’ He offered her an arm to help her over the uneven ground as they walked the horses towards a stream by the grove.
She gave an uneasy laugh. ‘I fear I do not make the best passenger. I could not seem to sit still.’ There was a gruffness about her words, as though they were more denial than total innocence. But the look in her eyes was confusion, and perhaps embarrassment. It seemed he was not the only one affected by their nearness.
‘It did not bother me overly,’ he said, for it hardly seemed fair to call such pleasant sensations an annoyance.
‘All the same, I do not think I wish to ride that way any longer. Is there no other way?’ She was looking at him, vulnerable and desperate, trusting that he would understand and help her. And though he wanted nothing more than to tumble her in the grass, or sweep her into his arms and back into the saddle, he knew that he would not.
He stared at her, wondering if he dared suggest what he was thinking. ‘There is a way that we can make better progress, if you are willing to
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