Chapter 23 #2
“I do not believe I am more sentimental than the average woman,” she said.
“In fact, one might argue that I am being more practical than you. Marriage is intended to endure until death parts a couple. Surely it is sensible to possess some affection and respect for the person with whom one must spend an entire lifetime.”
She tilted her head, her expression earnest. “What if there is only misery because no attachment existed at the beginning? Imagine being condemned to endure such unhappiness for fifty years. That seems a very severe punishment for satisfying one’s duty.”
A smile hitched at the corner of his mouth. “There is some wisdom in your argument. I shall endeavor to remember it when I eventually choose my countess.”
An indecipherable look entered her eyes. “Do you intend to seek a bride soon, my lord?”
“No.”
She glanced away, lifting her face toward the stars. “The scandal sheet that mentioned our four dances described you as one of society’s most elusive bachelors.”
“Hmm,” he said noncommittally. “The moment a man or woman reaches a marriageable age, everyone around them appears to grow addled. Marriage becomes the only subject they are capable of discussing. It is among the more nonsensical habits of society.”
She looked at him again, a quietly provoking allure warming her gaze. “Perhaps marriage is exciting.”
“Perhaps it is.” He thought of the friends who had once been wicked libertines and were now so thoroughly besotted with their wives that none of Aphrodite’s many temptations held the slightest appeal.
Sebastian frowned as another realization settled uneasily within him.
Of late, the only reason he attended Aphrodite at all was to see Red.
The wind shifted, lifting the edge of her riding habit, and a sharper chill swept over the hill. Thunder rolled again, closer now, deeper and more insistent. Darcy exhaled slowly, lifting her gaze once more as though she meant to commit the heavens to memory before the clouds claimed them.
“I am glad we came,” she said. “Thank you.”
The first drop of rain struck her cheek. She blinked, startled, then laughed as another followed, and another, the sky surrendering at last to the storm that had long threatened. “It would seem,” she said, lifting her face briefly to the falling rain, “that we have lingered too long.”
Sebastian glanced toward the western ridge, where the darkness had thickened into a solid bank of cloud, then reached for her hand.
“Come. We have less time than I thought. That is a storm.”
Her eyes widened. “But the stars are still visible above us.”
”Not for long. Listen.”
“Goodness,” Darcy cried as the sky opened and rain began to fall in torrents.
A sharp wind swept across the open fields, followed by heavy drops that struck the earth with sudden insistence. Darcy laughed as she gathered her skirts, though it did little good. Within moments, the rain fell in earnest, soaking through fabric and hair alike.
“I have always found rain glorious, but this feels rather like a tempest!”
“This way,” Sebastian called, already reaching for her hand. “We must leave at once.”
Sebastian gathered the telescope with practiced efficiency, replacing the brass cap over the objective lens before easing the instrument from its mount.
He laid it carefully within its leather-lined case, secured the brass catches, and folded the mahogany tripod, fastening it to the side of the saddle before striding toward the horses tethered beneath the shelter of an ancient oak.
Darcy was already there, her bonnet ribbons whipping wildly in the strengthening wind as she attempted to soothe her restless mare.
“You rode here sidesaddle,” he said, glancing from the horse to her.
“I did.”
“And I presume you have had little practice riding astride.”
A sheepish smile curved her lips despite the rain streaming over her face. “You presume correctly.”
He had suspected as much. She had ridden out with commendable determination but very little confidence, and although her mare was gentle and knew the estate paths, he would not risk allowing Darcy to cross increasingly sodden ground while perched sideways upon the saddle.
Without another word, he untied the mare’s reins. Darcy blinked in surprise. “My lord?”
He stroked the mare’s neck before giving the animal a firm pat upon the flank. “She knows the road to Raine Manor better than either of us. She will make her way home.”
As if understanding every word, the mare tossed her head before trotting confidently down the woodland path.
“You are simply letting her go?”
“I am.”
Doubt and worry filled her face. “And she truly will return, my lord?”
“Before we do, if I know that stubborn creature.”
There was no time to dwell upon it. The rain, which had begun as an inconvenience, had already become a torrent. Sebastian turned to his own gelding. “I cannot permit you to ride alone in this weather.”
She looked from the horse to him, uncertainty mingling with trust. “What would you have me do?”
He answered by placing his hands around her waist. Her startled gasp was nearly lost beneath the drumming rain, but he felt the sudden tension that moved through her beneath his palms.
“Forgive me, Miss Whitley,” he murmured.
“That sounds ominous.”
Before she could question him further, he lifted her as though she weighed no more than one of her younger sisters and settled her astride his saddle rather than sideways.
The heavy folds of her riding habit parted over the gelding’s broad back and drew high enough to reveal her booted calves.
The vivid blush that stole across her face was impossible to miss even beneath the grey light of the storm.
“I fear I have shocked you.”
“Only a little,” she said, glancing helplessly at the scandalous arrangement of her skirts before lifting her gaze to his.
“Then necessity may answer for the remainder of the offense.”
“Your remorse is not particularly convincing, my lord.”
“That is because necessity has long enjoyed the privilege of excusing impropriety.”
Sebastian placed one boot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle behind her.
There was scarcely room for propriety between them.
Her back settled against his chest, the damp wool of her habit unable to conceal the warmth of her body, while his thighs bracketed hers and his arms closed around her to gather the reins.
When a violent gust swept across the clearing, she reached instinctively for the pommel and pressed more firmly into him.
Every muscle in his body tightened. He became far more aware of the woman held between his arms than of the rain driving through his coat.
He gathered the reins before urging the gelding into motion.
“I am not taking us back to the main house.”
She turned her head, bringing her cheek perilously close to his mouth. “Why not?”
“The house is too far, and the wind is worsening by the minute. We would be half-frozen before we reached it.”
Darcy glanced toward the rain sweeping across the hills. “Where shall we go?”
“There is a keeper’s cottage scarcely five minutes from here. We shall wait there until the storm passes.”
She offered no objection.
Sebastian pressed his heels lightly against the gelding’s sides, and the horse surged forward through the rain, carrying them swiftly across the familiar paths toward the little stone cottage that had offered shelter to generations of gamekeepers.
When they reached the cottage, Sebastian dismounted and helped her down.
“Go inside. The door should be open.”
She gathered her sodden skirts and hurried toward the cottage while he led the gelding to the small barn behind it.
After settling the horse beneath shelter, Sebastian strode back through the driving rain, the chill now biting through his coat and into his skin.
As he pushed open the cottage door, Sebastian finally acknowledged the thought that had pressed relentlessly against his awareness from the moment he chose to seek refuge there.
For however long the storm pleased, he would be alone in a small room with a woman he desired with fierce and increasingly unmanageable intensity, a woman who, unless his imagination had become dangerously unreliable, looked at him as though she was equally tempted to forget every sensible restraint she possessed.
Bloody hell.