Page 38 of His Spirited Lady
But shedidneed to tell Amelia some things, which made her feel naive. That was irritating by itself. But knowing Fiona knew them because she’d actually kissed Richard, perhaps more given her veiled hints, was infuriating. All Amelia could do was sip her tea, smile, and make vague agreements about her betrothed and how they’d fallen in love.
The stable door was ajar, and a thin rectangle of yellow light spilled across the paddock. A gray shadow lurked just inside. Amelia slowed further. She never feared being out at night, but this was later than she usually traveled.
“Don’t be a goose,” she scolded herself. “If Richard has already left, then that’s Henry. You told him to have Molly ready.”
She walked through the door, chin high. She’d never been afraid here, and there was no need to begin now.
Richard was waiting at the opposite door, flanked by their horses. Relief flooded through her, along with a shiver she now equated with him. She’d experienced it when he’d surprised her with their betrothal, and again at the picnic when he’d kissed her.
She took a bit of feminine pride in his waiting well past the ten minutes he’d allotted.Take that, Fiona.
“You’re late.” Richard handed her Molly’s reins. “I sent the groom to bed. I thought it best he not see us out this late.”
Amelia grasped the saddle, put her foot in the stirrup, and swung herself onto Molly’s back. “You needn’t have bothered.” She arranged the cloak around her, made sure its hood covered her hair. “I pay him to keep my rides a secret.”
Richard stood at her knee, one eyebrow cocked high. “You’re out with a lot of men in the dark of night, are you?”
Only him. Amelia drew a deep breath, pressing her breasts against her shift and making her aware of those parts of her anatomy that had been a mystery. Richard made this ride different, more thrilling and adventurous. He made her the same.
At least for now.
She nudged his chest with her toe and scoffed. “Get on your horse. Drake won’t wait forever.”
Once they’d exited the rear paddock, Amelia nudged Molly into a trot. They crested the ridge, and she tilted her head to the sky. Out here in the open, stars gathered in drifts, some so dense they changed the color of the sky. “Are the stars like this in Canada?”
“Out in the forest, it seems like they’ll tumble through the trees.”
Though she was sad to learn this wasn’t hers alone, she thrilled to see him staring upward as their horses found their own way. “Do you spend a lot of time in the forest at night?”
“Not as much as we used to,” Richard said. “In the early days, when we were doing most everything ourselves, we spent most of our nights in tents, sleeping in shifts to guard against bears and wolves.”
There was wistfulness to his words. Drake teased that she spoke the same way about whiskey. “You miss it.”
“I hated sleeping in tents. It’s cold and damp, and Oliver snores.” Richard cast a sideways glance. “But I loved making something from nothing. Watching it come to life around us.”
“Do you feel that way about wine?” She’d toured wineries with her father when they’d visited France and Italy. The greenness had struck her, as had the crowd of people involved in harvesting the grapes. With whiskey, it was her and the still.
“I don’t know how I feel about wine yet,” Richard said. “It’s property I never knew existed, in a country I never wanted to visit. I have employees I didn’t hire, and we don’t yet know what to expect from one another. I don’t know if they’re lying to me, and all they know of me is that I share the name of a man who let them down.”
He was in profile in the darkness, but it was easy to imagine his muscles bunched near his ear, as they’d been earlier when he’d dealt with Ethan. A tingle began low on Amelia’s back, where Richard’s hand had rested, and spread outward until it reached her fingers, which he’d covered when they’d faced Fiona.
The feeling took on a new meaning in the dark with him, alone. It made her aware of how he handled the large gelding, where his boots stopped near his knees, how his breeches fit his thighs, his straight back and broad shoulders, his large hands and long fingers holding the reins.
It was easy to imagine how Fiona must’ve been affected by time alone with him. After all, according to her, Richard had done more than kiss her on the forehead.
“You’re quiet all of a sudden. Not asleep over there, are you?” he asked.
“I had no idea house parties were this exhausting,” she said. “Perhaps I should have scheduled fewer activities, but it’s really no more than what we might do in a day if we added a dinner party.”
“You play croquet when no one else is around?”
“Well, one must practice.” His chuckle made the darkness richer. “Mother and I play often. Father grouses about the holes in the garden.” She muffled a yawn.
“Perhaps it’s a good thing your guests have less time on their hands. Some of them seem bent on mischief.”
She couldn’t be blamed for Fiona, but he wasn’t wrong about the others. She should have paid more attention to Mother’s guest list. “Some aren’t.” But it was clear they were put off by those like her cousin.
“I can’t figure out Miss Gerard,” Richard said. “She seems every bit a society miss, but everyone keeps her at arm’s length. Even you.”
