Page 23 of Marquess of Stone

“For now,” he chuckled, his tone carrying a wealth of promise.

“Thank you, Nicholas,” she said softly.

“Until next time, Marian,” he said, inclining his head. “We have crossed another item off your list — and I look forward to the next one.” She heard both the spoken and unspoken promise in his words — and that both thrilled and terrified her.

For in that moment, watching him walk away with all his usual confident grace, Marian realized she had gained something far more dangerous than the ability to swim or float: she had gained the courage to sink or swim on her own terms, consequences be damned.

Later that evening, she carefully crossed another item off her list, feeling content and excited about what lay ahead.

1. Have a romantic moment with a stranger.

2. Swim in a lake or the ocean.

3. Go on an adventure.

4. Gamble, smoke, or drink.

5. Read Mary Wollstonecraft’s ‘A Vindication of the Rights of Women’.

6.Fall in loKiss someone.

CHAPTER 8

“Race you to the orangery!” Nicholas called out, his challenge carrying on the morning breeze like a thrown gauntlet. One day had passed since their rendezvous at the lake, and Nicholas had been itching to spend time with her, biding his time until she could sneak away from her mother’s ever watchful gaze. Now, as he watched Marian’s expression shift from surprised indignation to barely concealed delight, something in his chest tightened at the sight.

The morning sun filtered through the canopy above them, creating a dappled pattern that danced across her features as she urged her horse forward. Nicholas found himself oddly transfixed by the way the light caught in her hair, transforming the rich brown into threads of burnished copper.

“You are falling behind, Marian!” he called over his shoulder, allowing himself a moment of pure, uncomplicated joy as the wind ruffled through his dark hair. It had been too long since he had felt this light, this free from the weight of responsibility.

Her response carried on the breeze, a sharp wit and warm with humor. “It is only fair to let you have a head start, Nicholas. God forbid I bruise your ego!”

“My ego? I assure you, it is quite resilient,” he called back. “Though, your concern is touching.”

“Oh, I am not concerned for your ego, My Lord,” she retorted, her voice carrying on the wind. “but merely for the inevitable moment when you must concede to defeat.”

“Such confidence, Marian! And here I thought modestly was a feminine virtue.”

“Along with silence and compliance, no doubt?” The arch of her eyebrow spoke volumes. “How fortunate that I have never been particularly skilled at either.”

He could not help but laugh. He slowed his horse, allowing her to draw alongside him. The rhythmic sound of hooves against packed earth created a steady backdrop to their banter as natural as breathing.

He studied her profile as they continued onward, noting the way she sat on her horse with unconscious grace, her posture perfect without being rigid — unlike so many ladies of his acquaintance who treated riding as merely another social accomplishment to be mastered and displayed. Marian truly enjoyed the act; that much was plain to see.

“And here I thought you were competitive,” he said, unable to resist provoking that spark in her eyes that appeared whenever she was challenged. “Have I overestimated you?”

The look she gave him was pure mischief wrapped in mock propriety. “You will find that I prefer to win — when itmatters.”

“And racing to the orangery does not matter?” He tilted his head.

“Not nearly as much as making you believe that it does,” she replied with devastating sweetness, and before he could parse the layers of meaning in her words, she had urged her horse into a steady gallop, leaving him momentarily behind, stunned.

Nicholas barked out a laugh before spurring his own horse forward. “Clever, aren’t you?” he murmured, admiration coloring his tone. “Always three steps ahead.”

“Only three? You underestimate me, Nicholas.”

“Never. That would be a grave mistake,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “Though, I do wonder what game you are truly playing at sometimes.”

“Perhaps,” she replied, something tender flickering beneath her teasing tone, “I am simply enjoying the freedom to play at all.”

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