Page 82 of The Lord Meets His Lady
Nineteen
“I don’t want to ride behind you,” she said.
Moonlight sloped light and shadows across Lord Bowles sitting in the saddle. With her standing on the mounting block, they were eye level. Expressing needs of the emotional variety was never easy for her. Seconds ticked by. Did he understand?
His sensual mouth softened above his collar. “Come.”
Khan stood still as Lord Bowles settled her in the saddle. A hip nestled between his legs, and her feet dangled to one side. She fixed her skirt, aware of his gloved hand touching her knee. They were on the verge of something…the uncertainty nettling yet vague. The night’s events left her bruised in spirit, but in the quiet, she knew. One man would heal the pain. Her husband. The lines of his face were perfection, but she saw more than symmetry, more than the handsome man who turned women’s heads.
He was a tender man. A good man.
She ached to touch him, to reach deep places hidden from others. He sat quietly, waiting, the faint stars lighting his eyes. She shivered but not from cold. It was because of him and the want for him sinking into her body.
Bold as you please, she unbuttoned his redingote. “I need your warmth.”
His breath skimmed her forehead as she freed the last button. The wool coat parted, and she slid both hands around his waist. His inhale was sharp. Nostrils flaring and his brows hard slashes above his eyes, her new husband was the satyr she’d kissed in the Pallinsburn barn days ago, but there was tightness around his fine mouth.
Did he restrain himself for her sake?
“Please. Take me home.”
Home.Pallinsburn. The two were one and the same in her heart.
Lord Bowles wrapped one arm around her and held her tight. “Whatever happens, I’ll take care of you.”
She melted into him and closed her eyes, aware of Khan’s ambling gait and her husband’s steady heartbeat against her ear. Tonight, she’d shut away the world for a while.
No Reinhard Wolf.
No one to remind her she was nearly penniless.
Or that she was alone in the world. A true orphan, despite her sham of a marriage.
Tonight, someone cherished her enough to help her and ask nothing in return. She buried her nose in Lord Bowles’s neckcloth, the cambric warm with his scent…strength, leather, and a little horse. She’d treasure his unique smell, treasure him for however long this lasted.
Her chin quivered, and she shot a prayer to heaven.Why couldn’t things work out for her? Was a little goodwill too much to ask for?
Eyes stinging, she sniffled, holding back tears for the second time in one night. No answer came from her muffled prayer, save the River Tweed’s gentle rush as they crossed the bridge. Time moved on, and soon enough, so would she. Lord Bowles would close down the Pallinsburn cottage and take himself back to London. He struggled with the drink, but in his time here, from what she knew, he’d conquered it.
Khan’sclip-cloppinghooves took her back the way she’d come. She had no regrets about returning to the cottage and sweet Hester. But, tonight, she needed a tonic for the hurt. Nestling against her husband’s chest healed her. Gentled her. Erased time. The ride to Pallinsburn could go on forever, but then Lord Bowles squeezed her.
“We’re home.”
She lifted her head. Warm light touched the iron scrollwork on the barn door. Candle lamps burned from the barn and the cottage, a different reception from her first arrival many weeks ago. She’d made a home here. Her home.
Lord Bowles dismounted. She grabbed the pommel to slide down on her own.
“Wait,” he commanded. “Let me help you.”
Strong hands gripped her waist. Her feet hit the ground, and gloved hands slid higher up her ribs, the friction whisper-sweet on wool. His hands stopped under her breasts. The tip of his hat brushed her hood. An ache wove between them, heavy and unsaid. A man could woo a woman as easily with words as without them. If he had the skill. Goodness gleamed from her husband’s eyes, the effect more enticing than his even features.
“Good night,” he said.
“Thank you, milord. For everything.”
He took the reins and led Khan to the barn.
Was this another facet of their friendship? A gentleman’s compassion for her plight, biding his time until the favor was done? This marriage and its eventual end would cost him his social standing and the family coffers.
