Page 23 of My Hellion, My Heart
“As you’ve already stated numerous times.”
He faced forward again with a sigh. “It is a six-hour ride.”
“As you’vealsoalready stated. Lord Langlevit, please, I prefer to ride in the open, aching backside or not, rather than to be closed up inside that box for hours on end.”
Something in her voice made him glance back again. Her expression had hardened, and the space between her full, dark-brown brows was pinched, as if the mere idea was disagreeable. His eyes narrowed. It was a curious look, one that drew his attention. It wavered between fear, revulsion, and reluctance.
“Thatboxis a conveyance suitable for a king,” he said, watching for her answering expression. Her lips thinned but not in annoyance. She was agitated. Truly bothered, it seemed, at the thought of riding in the carriage. Henry had been trained to read the truth behind even the faintest of facial expressions. The twitch of a nose, the shifting of eyes. Licking lips, blinking too rapidly. They were all tells.
“It is a beautiful conveyance, but I…simply don’t care for long carriage rides.”
Irina continued to gaze into the trees.
“That’s the second thing we have in common,” he said, succeeding in drawing her attention back to him.
“What is the first?” she asked.
“Resorting to chocolate when upset.”
Her lips twitched, a warm blush rising into her cheeks. “Chocolate solves everything.”
So far, neither of them had spoken about what had happened in the pantry the evening before, though every time he let his eyes rest on her, he felt warm and slightly panicked. How could he have given in to his base desires?He’dkissed her.He’dacted first. Rejecting her kiss on the balcony at Hadley Gardens had sapped him of his willpower, it seemed. Of all moral decency.
Because there was nothing remotely moral or decent in the way he wanted Princess Irina Volkonsky.
He’d gone to Françoise after leaving Devon Place. He wasn’t proud of slaking his lust with what most people would consider a high-ranking courtesan, but it had served to remind him whathewas, and what he could never be, especially for a woman as young and untouched as Irina.
She was wild, yes, and passionate, but the frantic, needful press of her mouth, the unskilled but torturously perfect fumbling of her hands as she’d tried to push past the barrier of their clothing, had assured him of her innocence. Henry might have considered taking any other woman’s virtue if offered to him so willingly—but this wasIrina. A changed and grown and beautifully surprising Irina, but Irina just the same.
“Do you like to go fast?” she asked, and Henry realized he was still staring at her, the awkward twist of his back beginning to ache near the ruined skin and muscle of his shoulder blades.
“Excuse me?” he asked, his mind leaping into dangerous territory.
“Upon a horse,” she clarified, her pinched brows smoothing out with humor. “Do you like to race?”
He cleared his throat and faced forward. “Not upon a horse.”
“Then how?” she asked, trotting forward and entering his line of vision.
“On foot,” he replied, fighting the urge to look at her. Instead, he scanned the tree line to the left and right of the road. An old habit he couldn’t seem to break.
“You race on foot? Against whom?” She sounded a cross between amused and confused. He didn’t blame her. Earls did not usually participate in foot races.
“Against myself,” he replied, his attention catching on a strange darkness within the tree line to the right. He watched it another moment before realizing it was a large boulder shrouded in shade. Relaxing slightly, he spared a glimpse to the woman riding beside him. She arched a questioning eyebrow, her violet eyes alight with curiosity.
“I have a course at Hartstone,” he went on, his longing for the three-mile obstacle course he’d lain out and built over the last handful of years growing.
“A path?” she asked.
“A challenging path,” he replied, smiling inwardly.
Rock walls, pole bridges, rope swings, and netted canopies strung between treetops were only a few of the dangerous obstacles he’d implemented. Running the course, always aiming to improve his time, helped him focus. It was a different kind of physical exertion that released his pent-up tension, and oddly enough, it was better than anything Françoise or any girl from The Cock and the Crown could manage.
“What’s it like?” Irina asked, and from the inflection of her voice he could tell she was truly interested.
That was another thing that hadn’t changed over the years—that insatiable curiosity and bright intelligence of hers. Whenever he had visited the estate in Cumbria, Irina had always asked insightful questions about his travels with genuine enthusiasm. He supposed it was why he’d always enjoyed conversing with her, and perhaps that was why he felt so at ease with her now. There were no games, no artifice, no trickery. Henry exhaled, his eyes scanning the area once more. It’d been so long since he had trusted anyone, especially a woman.
“It’s fashioned after a military training area,” he said. “With walls and hurdles and ditches. I like to exert myself,” he added with a tight shrug.
