Page 39 of An Arranged Marriage with a Cruel Earl
Chapter 14
Emmeline stood by Snowflake, her heart pounding in her chest like a wild drumbeat. Behind her, she could sense Andrew’s presence—steady and reassuring, yet so near it made her breath catch. She felt acutely aware of him, as though his nearness carried a quiet warmth that reached her even without a single touch.
Snowflake whickered a greeting. She gazed up at his back. Her own horse, Starlight, was at least a hand shorter than Snowflake, and at home—where nobody could see her—she often rode with a man’s saddle. Trying to mount up onto a horse a hand taller, and into a side-saddle, was proving a challenge too far for her.
She swallowed hard, feeling a little annoyed with herself. She was a good horsewoman, but now, with Andrew watching, she was going to look as though she didn’t even know how to mount up. She cleared her throat, affronted and shy at once.
“Um...might you have a mounting block?” she asked with as nonchalant a tone as she could.
Andrew lifted his shoulder. His face was impassive though his eyes danced with amusement.
“No. We regrettably do not. But I can offer you something else instead?”
“What else?” Emmeline asked, just a little crossly. Without the mounting block, she couldn’t do it; and he really ought to have one.
“If you don’t mind?” Andrew asked and held out his hands. She guessed what he meant just as his hands closed around her waist.
“I don’t think you will...” She tried to say that she did not think he could lift her so high as to put her on Snowflake’s back, but before she had got the words out, she was sailing through the air, and she landed with a small thump on the side-saddle. She let out a surprised cry before she could stop herself. He grinned.
“There. I reckon that does it?”
She saw the bright sparkle in his eyes and huffed with indignation, then giggled. Her cheeks were warm with flushing, and her hair had come a little loose as he lifted her up. She tucked some stray locks behind her ear, still chuckling.
“That did the job,” she said with a laugh. “I didn’t think you could get me up here so easily.” Her cheeks reddened still further as she recalled how it was to have his hands tight around her waist. He had lifted her effortlessly, and as he lifted her, her body pressed close to his for a moment.
“You’re quite light,” he told her, walking to his own horse. He stepped up on the fence and threw a leg over, then urged his horse forward to ride beside hers. She wished she was riding astride—it really was a great deal easier.
“Quitelight?” she asked him, raising a brow.
He chuckled. “Not as light as a feather, nor as a dust mote. But then, if you were, you’d be far too small to see, and then I’d miss the pleasure of your smile.”
Emmeline laughed. It was a ludicrous thing to say, and yet, it made her heart leap. He was grinning at her and she grinned back warmly.
“I will take that in the best spirit,” she told him with a smile.
He chuckled. “That is indeed the spirit in which it was meant.” He leaned towards the horse, and she realised just before he did it that he was going to urge his horse into a trot. She leaned forward too and Snowflake, evidently used to receiving messages in such a way, bunched his torso and shot ahead, his pace more like a canter than a trot. She whooped in delight, instinctively gripping with her knees and leaning back to slow him. As Andrew rode up, she turned around, giving him a bright smile.
“He goes so fast!” Her heart was soaring. She missed Starlight, but she had not ridden for two weeks, and she had forgotten how wonderful it was simply to ride.
Andrew chuckled. “He likes a run, does Snowflake. He wants to give his best. If you lean too far forward, he and you are liable to race off faster than anyone’s gone at the Ascot racecourse.”
Emmeline giggled. “I’ll do well to keep that in memory.”
“Indeed, you will,” Andrew replied lightly.
Emmeline’s cheeks reddened again. His gaze at her was admiring, those blue eyes holding her own. She reached up, realising that her hair had mostly fallen loose from its chignon—she had not prepared at all for riding and was not even wearing a proper riding habit. The side-saddle did the best job it could of protecting her modesty, as her legs remained mostlycovered by her skirts, but she was sure that, every now and again, an ankle would stick out. She looked ahead, focusing on the ride.
“Where were you planning to ride to?” she asked him as she leaned slightly back, slowing Snowflake to a walk.
“I suppose up to the lake,” he said lightly, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “It’s about two miles away. The horses can drink at the lake and then we will ride back again. It’s my usual ride if I don’t intend to call on anyone or go to London.”
“Do you need to go to London often?” she asked as she drew level with him again. He had trotted ahead, since the path narrowed, but now they had reached a wider place, and they rode side-by-side along a path flanked with broadleaf trees, their wide leaves green and dancing in the soft wind.
“Not often. For which I am excessively grateful,” he replied as he rode.
She laughed. “I feel just the same,” she replied with some surprise. She would have imagined that someone who—apart from being poor and living in a ruinous house—was handsome, noble, and witty, would be the darling of high society.
“You do?” He raised a brow. He sounded surprised too. She shot him a sidelong glance. Surely, he must have noticed that she was far from socially skilled, that she spoke too much and said her opinion too often? He must have noticed that she rode and ran and laughed and lived on altogether a bigger scale than the Ton seemed to expect of women.
