Page 27 of An Unwanted Spinster for the Duke
“Well,” he challenged lightly, “since you’re so desperate to escape, I propose a race. Let’s see if you can outrun me.”
That caught her attention, and for a brief moment, uncertainty flickered in her gaze as she blinked at him. Dominic held her stare, keeping the challenge alive.
The dare was laid bare before them, and it seemed like it would be his way to spend more time with her.
Marianne hesitated, her eyes drifting from his to her horse. Then, she glanced ahead, as though assessing the terrain before her.
“Fine. I accept,” she said.
Without another word, she kicked her heels into her horse’s flanks, and it sprang forward—fast, like an arrow loosed from its bow.
Dominic laughed but quickly spurred his own horse forward, unwilling to give her an easy head start.
He knew she was a skilled rider from the brief glimpse he’d had earlier, but riding alongside her now, he saw just how much. They were neck and neck, even as the terrain grew rougher and the wind whipped at their faces.
He stole glances at her, admiring her intense focus and the red hue on her cheeks. She moved in perfect harmony with her horse, and the sight enchanted him. If he hadn’t seen her among others, he might have believed she was a wood nymph.
Marianne leaned forward, urging her steed to ride faster.
“I thought a duke would have a bit more endurance!” she called out.
Her laughter rang out—a beautiful melody that made his pulse quicken.
The trail narrowed as the hill steepened, wildflowers growing thicker at the edges like they’d been planted there on purpose. Dominic eased ahead, instinctively taking the lead—something he hadn’t meant as a challenge.
He glanced back just in time to catch the gleam in Marianne’s eyes.
Determined. Defiant. Irresistible.
She leaned forward in the saddle and clicked her tongue. Her mare responded with a surge of speed.
Dominic cursed under his breath. “Lady Marianne?—”
She cut a corner too tightly, her horse stumbling on a rock half-hidden in the earth. It wasn’t a full fall, but the sudden jolt pitched her forward, her balance gone. One of her hands fumbled at the reins, the other grabbing uselessly at air.
“Easy, girl!” she called to the horse, her voice breathless but calm—too calm.
Dominic was already beside her. His horse surged forward. He reached out without thinking, arm wrapping around her waist, catching her before she could tumble to the ground.
Her body hit his chest with a soft thud. She gasped, instinctively grabbing at his shoulder to steady herself.
He held her there, both their horses finally slowing to a stop. For a second, the world narrowed to just her—the feel of her breath against his collarbone, the press of her curves against him, the way her gloved hand curled into the fabric of his coat like she didn’t quite want to let go.
Her face tilted up. Her lips were parted. Her gaze flicked to his mouth and lingered.
God, he wanted to kiss her.
“You’re lucky I didn’t let you fall, little doe,” he murmured, voice low, the nickname catching on his tongue like a secret.
Her lips curved, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Lucky? I had the situation well in hand, Your Grace.”
“Ah yes,” he said dryly. “Plunging headfirst into the earth was clearly part of your strategy.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I wasn’t plunging. The mare slipped.”
“You were about to eat dirt.”
“Not true,” she said, lifting her chin as if daring him to contradict her again. “And even if I had fallen, I’ve had worse scrapes.”
