Page 24 of His Spirited Lady
“What happens if your parents push for a short engagement?” he asked. “What happens if your accomplice doesn’t leave quickly enough, and you’re forced to marry simply to save face? What if, God forbid, your plan to ruin yourself goes horribly wrong and you’re forced to marry your scapegoat?” He hated to see the light fade from her eyes, hated more that he was the cause of it. “You will get through this weekend with the same deft ability I saw you use with Mr. Raymond. I will help you as I can.” He held up a finger. “In any way that doesn’t involve a betrothal.”
He forced his other hand from her and ignored the impulse to rub his fingers together. She was a baron’s daughter. They were supposed to be soft to the touch.
“I must go.” Richard said it for himself as much as for her. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask for another chore, but staying was dangerous. He couldn’t be close to her without talking, and the more she talked, the more he wanted to be close to her. More than close, if the twitch in his fingers was any indication. Even if he didn’t succumb, just being caught alone in a forbidden space would cause a scandal that would trap them both.
Still, it made him nervous to leave her alone. “You should leave as well.”
“I have much more to do, especially since I’ll be unable to work for four days.” She reached for his rake. “Thank you for your help.”
“Amelia, it would—”
“You are my partner, not my employer.” She thumped the rakes on the plank, making it shake beneath his feet, and squared her shoulders. “Or my father, or…anything else. I have work to do, which is something you, of all people, should respect.”
Despite her height, she reminded Richard of a commander in the middle of a battle. She also reminded him of his sister—especially the tilt of her chin. There would be no winning this argument, even if he was right. “Fine, but I will move your mare into the stable so she can’t be seen by anyone passing by.”
“As you wish,” Amelia snapped. Her cheeks reddened a moment before she smiled. The thin arc of it was evidence of how little she wanted to do so. “Thank you.”
Richard went down the ladder first, intending to be there if she lost her footing. Instead, he had a view of how well her split skirt shaped to her arse. He was torn between looking away, as a gentleman would, or protecting her—which meant staring. In the end, she hopped from the last rung unharmed, her boots thudding against the floor.
“Thank you for your help today, Richard.” She dusted her hands against her skirt. “I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow night at dinner with my other guests.”
Amelia’s forced cordiality rankled almost as much as being lumped in with the people she was dreading. She could be angry all she wanted. He was right.
“Until then, Amelia.” He dipped his head in as much of a bow as he’d give and left her alone.
He put her docile grey mare out of sight, taking time to add a measure of grain to her bucket and replenish the water in her trough. Then he mounted his gelding and sighed as he stroked the horse’s chestnut-colored neck. “It’s just as well, boy. I have things to do.”
At the top of the hill, Richard glanced over his shoulder and cursed the sting of disappointment when she wasn’t visible in the freight yard. She was his partner, after all. Just like Oliver. He’d never worried that Oliver couldn’t look after himself.
He urged his horse forward, increasing speed until they were galloping toward the trees on the horizon and the steam rising from the engine at the mill. The large gelding responded like he was meant to race, which Richard hadn’t expected from a hired horse. The result was that he arrived at the lumber mill quicker than expected with a genuine smile on his face.
Oliver looked up from his work, shading his eyes with a gloved hand. “You look happy.”
“Would you consider keeping this mount for me, if I bought him?” Richard asked as he dismounted. “I dislike the idea of a stable letting him out to anyone with enough coin. I’d be happy to pay for—”
“You don’t have to reimburse me,” Oliver said as he shucked off one glove and ran his hand over the gelding from neck to flank. “I’d take it in trade for exercising him. Plus, it would give you another reason to visit more often.”
Amelia in her work clothes sprang to mind. She wouldnotbe a reason to visit. She would either be married and hating him for not being a player in her plot, or she’d be here and hating him for making her be realistic and honest.
Of course there was always the possibility that she would be married and happy, surrounded by children, and laughing that she’d once recklessly proposed to a Frenchman in trade.
“Thank you.” Richard stripped out of his jacket before rolling up his sleeves. He donned the gloves Oliver offered and plucked a shave knife from the nearby rack. The thick handles felt like home.
Oliver resumed his place on one side of the log. Richard took the other, notched the tool at the correct angle to catch as little wood as possible, and pulled. After months away from work, the strain of his muscles made him smile. The rough, dark bark peeled away, leaving the gleaming white gold of fresh lumber in its wake.
Soon, he and Oliver were racing to see who could get to the end of their side first, laughing as they went. They’d done it since the beginning, when they were the only two in the forest and the work was unending.
Richard had missed this.
“If you’re buying the gelding, I assume you enjoyed your ride this morning.” Oliver grunted as he struck a knot. “Mierda.”
“I did.” As he worked to even the wood, Richard took the lead in their race. “I stopped by the distillery on my way back. Fletcher should have my wine delivered in a few days.”
“I didn’t know Drake was still in town.”
“He’s not.” Richard swung his head to the right to avoid a large chunk of bark as it splintered. “Amelia was there.”
“Rich—”
