Chapter Nine
Dear Lady Amelia,
Some things in life are meant to be shared. Some things are not.
Yours truly,
Mrs. Dove-Lyon
“That’s the man you chose as a husband for me?” Arabella whispered while they walked ahead of Benedict toward the stables.
“Yes,” in a low voice Amelia curtly replied.
“What’s wrong with him?” She had yet to find a flaw of his greater than his arrogance.
And most men, especially of his station, boasted the same attribute.
But arrogance was a flaw. A terrible one.
A very terrible, horrible one that should deter her from thinking about him…
but definitely not too terrible or horrible as to deter her sister from thinking he would a suitable husband.
It couldn’t be simpler.
And it wasn’t complicating things at all that Amelia had woken up to a small pile of letters from Mrs. Dove-Lyon.
A messenger must have ridden through the night alongside them to deliver the missives, apparently with instructions to open them intermittently.
Right. Well, now that was on her mind just as much as everything else.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon had already made the match, what more was there to say? And why the cryptic messages?
“Besides that he is altogether too handsome for his own good?” Arabella chuckled, breaking into Amelia’s musings.
“Try to see beyond the superficial, sister.” The nudge in her side from her sister’s elbow tickled more than anything.
“Of course, but have you seen him? Is that why you chose him for me?”
“Technically speaking I wasn’t the one who chose him.”
“You didn’t?”
“No. I let Mrs. Dove-Lyon make the final decision.”
“Why did you do that?”
Yes. Why exactly? That was a perfectly reasonable question, but she couldn’t very well tell her sister that she wouldn’t have chosen Benedict for countless reasons. Namely, personal reasons.
Reason the first. No one was that good looking.
Reason the second. She suspected that there had to be some cataclysmic flaw within him.
Reason the third. She wanted him for herself. Sort of.
Inwardly, she threw up her hands. It was all a mess. When she discovered Benedict was Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s choice, she should have refused.
But the logic within her battled, suggesting that she trust fate. But also, that she trust the owner who had very strong reasons to make successful pairings.
So in answer to her sister’s innocent and wholly justified question, she said, “I decided to trust someone with more knowledge and experience than me.”
Her sister nodded.
“So we have a week to see if you two are a good match before father returns.”
“What does father’s business trip have anything to do with this?” Her eyebrows rose in question.
Damn. It was getting harder to keep all these secrets from everyone.
“Just that we have a week with no pressure. No chance of gossip. Father would have you marry the first eligible man willing to take you.” That was as close to the truth as she was going to share with Arabella.
She didn’t need her younger sister worrying about the match their father had made on her behalf.
“Are you cold?” Arabella asked.
“No. The sun is shining. It’s a lovely day.”
“You just shivered.”
“It was nothing—”
Thankfully at that moment, Benedict drew himself into the conversation. “This should be a nice afternoon ride.” He blinked up at the sun and back toward them, acting none too closely to his cocky self.
Perhaps he had taken Amelia’s directives under advisement.
Within a few minutes, the three of them were up in their respective saddles riding through the country.
“It’s been too long since I’ve done this,” Arabella announced with a smile of delight.
“And you, Amelia? When last did you enjoy a good mount?” Amelia shot a curious look at Benedict.
“I ride every day,” she replied without guile. “It clears my head.” She couldn’t be sure as to why she tacked on that last tidbit, but it was out there now.
“I feel the same way.” His lips curled in a smile that she couldn’t interpret. Was he being smug? Was he voicing that in an attempt to form a connection between the two of them? Either way, she resented him for it. He should be focusing on Arabella.
Amelia clicked her tongue to pull away from the other two. Giving them space to get to know each other was best for all parties involved.
And the low murmur of voices that she left behind didn’t bother her in the least.
And that deep rumble of laughter followed by her sister’s charming giggle? No. That was not vexing at all.
What was bothering her was that she felt some compulsion to ride sidesaddle rather than astride, in her typical fashion. Since Benedict was here, she felt that it was required for her to show some propriety.
All things considered, this was really the absolute least she could do. After pushing all other social mores to their limit.
“Shall we head to the folly for a picnic—” A bang blasted out into the air.
She shrieked as her horse reared up and took off in a gallop.
What the blazes was someone doing shooting a gun? There wouldn’t have been anyone hunting nearby today. She would have known about it.
Her mind was scrambling to form any thoughts because thoughts were low on the list of priorities. Her chief concerns were to stay seated on the runaway horse. Well, actually, that concluded the list of her primary objectives.
Unused to riding sidesaddle, her legs shook mightily in an effort to cling to the horse. The saddle dug into her hip as she leaned forward to counter her balance. And her hands gripped the reins so tightly that she felt as though she were strangling her own palms.
A loud, “Hah!” filled the air, followed by thundering hooves. “Hold steady, Amelia.” The clear voice bellowed at her. As if she had other plans.
In an instant a large arm wrapped itself around her middle, while Benedict shouted, “Let go!” Then she was flying through the air.
Suspended. Weightless. Heart hammering louder than both horses combined.
Her hands found purchase on broad shoulders, wrapping around his neck.
“I’ve got you.” Yes, he did. And tightly.
His arm was latched around her tighter than any corset she could recall.
Not more than a few seconds passed before he slowed the horse.
That’s when she realized her face was buried in his shoulder.
Again. This time, the forbidden hero was whispering to her, calming her heart rate with soothing words like, “It’s alright.
” And, “You’re safe.” And even, “No harm has come to you.”
Oh. Little did he know the harm coming to her. Over and over. He was chosen for her sister. Not her. Why on earth did he have to keep rescuing her? She was developing the most inappropriate feelings for him.
Him and his strong body molded to hers. Powerful thighs beneath her bottom. Strong arms, now both around her waist. A tender hand caressing her back.
She should not be savoring this moment.
It was one thing to dream about the man.
It was an entirely different thing to take advantage of him in reality.
Even still, she didn’t move.