Page 127 of Ten Lords for the Holidays

“It is unorthodox,” she finally agreed, more to distract herself from thinking of things like touching his hair. She looked out over the surrounding countryside, pale and whitewashed in the morning frost. “But I have always loved horses and riding. Since I can remember, really. And –“ she cast around for something that would explain her behaviour without ruining her reputation.

In Holly’s experience, men’s tongues were as idle and vicious as women’s when it came to gossiping.

“And there’s nothing quite like the feeling of galloping astride a fast horse,” Lord Stockton finished softly.

Holly turned her gaze to Lord Stockton, feeling a strange sort of kinship now, coupled with that distracting desire to touch him.

To her horror, she felt a tell-tale heat in her skin.

“Most people would be horrified by my behaviour,” she said softly. “Not understanding of it. That’s why I usually keep it a secret.”

“But you didn’t this time.”

“Well, no,” she answered frankly. “Because you riled me so.”

His answering laughter echoed across the empty terrain and made Holly’s heart flip in the most alarming manner.

“I am not most people, Lady Holly,” he said, laughter still sparkling in his light, golden-brown eyes. “And your secret is safe with me.”

* * *

Evan watched Lady Holly blush becomingly at his words and delighted in his effect on her.

The morning had been filled with one surprise after another, and they’d barely gotten started on their ride.

His heart had barely had a chance to recover from the sight of her legs in skin-tight breeches before she shot off into the morning mist, her magnificent hair trailing behind her like a beacon of fire in the ice that surrounded them.

And it wasn’t just her hair that was magnificent, either.

As he watched Lady Holly dismount gracefully and tether her horse to the low hanging branch of a tree, he realised that he’d actually enjoyed this morning.

Not because she was beautiful.

But because she was unexpected. Fiery. Impertinent in the best way.

Last night, he’d been enamoured of her physical attributes. He had a set of good eyes in his head, after all.

But this morning – this morning as he’d given Tempest his head and caught up to the lady, as he’d watched the wind catch her tumble of curls and send them flying, wild and free – he hadn’t thought of his responsibilities or Celia’s betrayal.

Jumping easily from his own horse, he led it to stand with hers, watching for a moment as both animals drank from the partially frozen stream.

The sound of a sigh behind him had him turning to see Lady Holly studying him, worrying at her lip and making him think all manner of wicked things that he shouldnotbe thinking.

“Are you well, my lady?” he asked.

“I am,” she answered softly, though she still watched him warily. “It’s just—”

She huffed out a breath before visibly squaring her shoulders.

“I don’t know you, Lord Stockton. And well, you’ve seen me in breeches, for heaven’s sake.”

Evan’s eyes dipped to where the breeches were hidden under the heavy, velvet material of her skirts.

That didn’t stop him from remembering in detail how the material had skimmed her slim thighs, the curve of her calves –

“And,” she continued speaking, so Evan dragged his mind from the gutter with herculean effort. “You know as well as I that tongues wag awfully quickly when they have something salacious to wag about.”

She bit her lip again. Something that was a habit of hers, then. When she was nervous or uncomfortable, he’d warrant.

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