Chapter Twelve

“Ruins” was an apt name for the precarious pile of stone poised atop the hill. At one time, they might have been considered a castle. But any moat had long since overgrown. The walls crumbled. They circled the pointed tower in the middle, which had lost half its height judging by the jagged edges and gaping top. The door at the bottom had long since rotted off, leaving another gaping hole. I wouldn’t trust the stairs, personally, but more than one couple ducked into the massive edifice.

Others strolled along the remnants of the walls. Although time had torn down the wall entirely in places, in two spots it still rose to its full height far above my head. The moment the wall camouflaged our forms, I yanked my hand from Warren’s sleeve.

“Thank you,” I told him, not meaning a word. “But I’m quite capable of escorting myself from here on in.”

“What if you swoon?” Warren asked with a grin.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from rolling my eyes. “I haven’t in the past twenty-one years. I doubt I’ll start now.”

I struck a brisk pace for the far side of the ruins. Away from Warren’s irksome presence and Lady Dunlop’s shrewd gaze. Somewhere in the vicinity, a bit of moss or weed had caught Francine’s attention. By now, Mary would welcome the extra company.

Even if I dragged a big, hulking shadow behind me.

The ground rumbled with his loping steps. When I cast a surreptitious glance to my rear, Warren’s eyebrows knit in a determined look. Why did he insist on plaguing me? His duty to his cousin was complete. I could no longer interfere with her happiness.

“Oh, Rose!”

Thank goodness. Daisy stood with Lady Dunlop’s nephew at the foot of the stairs leading up to the nearest battlement. She pumped her arm wildly, nearly walloping the poor man in the face. He took a wary step back. Switching directions, I doubled my pace, eager to join my sister. Anything to avoid time alone with Warren. Even without looking at him, his presence prickled along the back of my neck as we walked.

I reached Daisy with a smile and clasped her outstretched hand.

“Rose,” she said, “have you been properly introduced to Arthur?”

Don’t call him by his given name in public. I forced a smile, but didn’t correct her in present company. “I have not.”

Daisy made the introductions, and the young man bowed over my hand. He, at the very least, had some manners.

With a thin, narrow face and thick eyebrows set low over his eyes, he in no way resembled his aunt. His hair was dark, the inky locks curling around his nape, forehead, and ears before narrowing into fashionable sideburns. The rest of his face was smooth.

Unlike Warren’s, which had a rough, savage look to it even after he’d shaved. Assuming he had done so this morning. I didn’t intend to touch his face to confirm the notion.

Arthur stood with an easy stance, his shoulders thrown back, as he greeted Warren. In comparison, his shoulders seemed as narrow as a tree. The billowing white shirt he wore tucked into his buckskin breeches contrasted sharply with his sun-kissed skin. He had the look of a man who spent a lot of time outdoors.

The perfect company for Daisy. The only time she settled was when she was out of doors, going for a walk. In other words, exhausting herself. I pitied the man, a bit. Judging by his demeanor, he curbed his exuberant impulses. Daisy would wear him out within the week.

She said, “We’re about to climb up to the battlements. Why don’t you join us?”

“The battlements?” Warren said. The color drained from his face. “Why ever would you do that?”

“To see the view, of course.” Daisy didn’t seem the least put out by Warren’s cautioning tone. I wondered if she even noticed. Not likely.

“We’re on a hill,” Warren said. He ran his finger along the back collar of his shirt. “You can see the view just fine.”

“It will be even more spectacular from the top,” Daisy said. She turned toward the battlements, but called over her shoulder. “Rose, are you coming?”

Judging by Warren’s wary expression, the last place he intended to venture was atop the battlements. That put it at the top of the list of places I wished to occupy. “I’d love to,” I said to my sister, drawing out the words as I glanced at Warren’s face.

He scowled.

I swallowed a triumphant smile. My hunch was right; he didn’t intend to go up.

Arthur gallantly offered his arm to Daisy to escort her up the wide steps. She took it, hiding a giggle behind her hand. I followed after them.

“Wait.” Warren grappled for my arm.

Did he intend to escort me up, after all? Blast. It had been the perfect plan.

His grip was tight. Too tight. He didn’t seem to notice how fiercely he squeezed me.

“You’re hurting me,” I said, trying to tug myself away.

He let go so abruptly I nearly toppled backward. I caught my balance just in time.

“Forgive me,” he said, his voice curt. “But you don’t intend to venture up there, do you?”

“It is perfectly safe,” I lied. As dubious as the passage looked, plenty of other couples traversed it without question. I pointed to the steps. “More than one couple has gone up. They’re safe.”

He craned his neck to peer at the top of the wall, but his cheeks blanched. Much paler, and he might shed his skin and turn into a ghost.

A sly smile on my lips, I leaned closer to him. “You aren’t afraid, are you?”

“Of course not,” he snapped. “But you should have a care. Like Lady Dunlop said, if you swoon from the battlements…”

“I won’t.”

Turning away from him, I marched to the steps. I mounted halfway before he unfroze from his spot. Heavy footsteps thumped on the stairs behind me. Pausing on the step, I turned to him.

“You don’t have to accompany me.”

He leaned against the wall heavily as he sidled along each step, his right side open to the air. The steps were wide and sturdy. Enough for two people to walk abreast, even someone as large as Warren. Judging from his demeanor, he didn’t trust them to hold his weight.

As he took another step, testing the next stair, he said, “I couldn’t possibly leave you alone.”

I braced my hands on my hips. “Why not?”

He shook his head. His lips were pressed together. Either he was unable, or unwilling to answer. His pallor was so stark, his blond hair looked dark in contrast.

He reached within two steps of me. Without looking, I took another step higher. “I’m perfectly safe on my own.”

“You are not,” he gritted out.

“If that’s true, your presence here will not keep me from falling through the battlements. If anything, the added weight will give greater strain.”

That gave him pause. I turned to continue my ascent, hoping he would take the hint and return to the decrepit courtyard below.

“Watch your step,” he said. His voice was strained. I turned, but I was in no danger. I mounted the middle of the steps.

From the tight expression on his face, I might as well have been dangling in midair. He reached for me, but I stepped away—closer to the open air at the side of the steps.

The side of my foot kissed the open air, but I wasn’t worried. I had my footing.

Horror etched across Warren’s face. He dove for me. His hand latched onto my upper arm. The momentum shoved me off balance. For a prolonged, horrifying moment, I feared I’d plummet to my death.

Then Warren hauled me against his chest. He turned, pressing me into the cool stone wall of the ruins. The stone smelled earthy, like moss or mold, with the slightest tang underneath like copper. I struggled, but Warren held me tight to him, his shoulders hunched around me like a shield.

He trembled. I ceased fighting his hold.

Tentatively, I snaked my hand around his back to pat his shoulders. “I’m fine.” No thanks to you. I wouldn’t have lost my footing in the first place if he hadn’t grabbed for me.

He said nothing. I contorted to glimpse his face, but he buried it in the crook of my neck. His hot breath chased shivers over my skin. I tugged at him, but he wouldn’t budge.

“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 away, 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 as 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.