Page 87 of Wicked Designs
“We could stay here…” Each word hung heavy with the promise of passion.
It was so hard to resist, but the second sigh that escaped her was one of defeat and Godric noticed.
“Everything all right, my dear?” He stroked her chin with the pad of his thumb. The truth of her fears lay on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back.
He studied her silently. “Do you really miss riding?”
Emily brightened a little. “I do, oh, I do.”
“I would let you ride…” he paused as her eyes lit up with hope. “If you ride with me.”
“Oh, Godric, thank you!” She threw her arms about his neck and covered him with kisses.
Cedric was just trotting out of the stables when they caught up. The dappled gray mare he rode looked eager to be galloping, as did the rider.
Cedric called down as they walked past. “Shall I wait for you?”
“Could you?” Emily asked.
Godric went inside to fetch his gelding while Emily waited.
Cedric gazed down at her. “Emily, when you return to London, may I introduce you to my sisters? Horatia and Audrey would adore you.”
“I’d like that very much. I know so few people in theton. We have mainly country connections.”
“Not to worry, kitten. My sisters are level-headed creatures for the most part. I think you’d like Horatia especially. She is very much like you.” Cedric grinned as though remembering some private joke. “Audrey…is a bit of scamp. Always in trouble for one thing or another.”
“Do they love the outdoors like you?”
Cedric nodded. “Horatia loves to ride almost as much as I do. Audrey loves fresh air, though she’s not fond of horses. Got bit by a rather nasty tempered pony when she was eight. Hasn’t forgiven the equine genus since, poor dear.”
Emily stroked his mare’s charcoal mane. “My father always said they had a propensity for biting, so I wasfortunate never to be subjected to a pony’s temper. Horses though, were a different matter. He had the best pair of thoroughbreds which he taught me to ride.”
“Your father was a smart man.” Cedric reached down to smack the mare’s neck affectionately.
Godric came out that moment, his magnificent black gelding in tow, one hand resting on the horse’s neck, the other threading fingers through the dangling reins.
“Hold him for me, Cedric?” Godric handed him the reins. Godric gripped Emily at the waist and hoisted her up onto the saddle then hauled himself up behind her. He looped an arm about her waist, pulling her back into the cradle of his hips.
They trotted away from the stables, Cedric a few paces ahead. The horses settled into a natural rhythm.
They rode for an hour before Godric decided the chances of them getting caught in the storm were too great. Emily fixed her attention on the sky, where storm clouds still hung. Not a single drop had fallen the night before, but she could taste the thickness of the air, and the delicious clean scent of a thunderstorm teased the air with a hint of danger. Emily did not protest ending their ride. She’d need to be back at the manor soon to see to her preparations.
Charles joined Godric, Cedric and Emily for a light luncheon an hour later, but Emily could barely eat. Her stomach churned fitfully and she said little.
“Are you feeling well?” Godric put the back of his hand to her forehead.
Emily shut her eyes, enjoying the warmth of his hand. This would be the last time he touched her. Paintore through her heart, rending it in two. She’d remember him like this, gentle and concerned. A tender rogue, hiding his heart from her for fear of being wounded. But it was she who’d suffer most. At least he did not love her, it would be easier for him to accept her leaving.
“You feel a bit cold.” Worry darkened his tone.
“I fear I’m rather under the weather.” It was an opportunity to excuse herself.
Godric started to rise from his chair. “Shall I send for a doctor?”
“No! No, don’t trouble yourself, please. I think I’ll take a nap. That may put me to rights.” Emily rose from her chair, put a hand on Godric’s shoulder and gently forced him back down.
“I’ll come and check on you in a few hours then, darling.” Godric kissed her hand resting on his shoulder. Her heart bled with the knowledge that this was her last kiss. It couldn’t be the last… Not something so inconsequential and chaste as a kiss upon her hand…
