Page 61 of The Beast of Beswick
“Jump it,” he yelled. But she was too far away to hear him.
Astrid yanked on the reins, which only served to confuse the horse. Luna stumbled and slammed to a halt, and her rider went flying.
“Oh God, Astrid,” Thane shouted, reining in Goliath at her side where she lay staring up at the sky, her body shaking as he leaped down to crouch beside her. Was she convulsing? Had she hit her head? Sustained some internal injury? He blinked, his jaw falling open as she clutched her sides, great gales of laughter coming from her chest. “Are you bloody mad? You could have been killed!”
“I know how to take a fall, Thane,” she said, her eyes sparkling.
“You should not have been on that horse.”
“She was magnificent.Ismagnificent.” She pushed up to her elbows and grimaced slightly, watching as the groom trailing behind her finally caught up and went to secure Luna, who was grazing nearby. “Why do you keep her here and not at Beswick Park?”
“She’s for sale,” Thane said. “There’s something wrong with her.”
Astrid shook her head and tugged at his coat for him to help her up. “She needs a loving hand, Thane, and room to run. There’s nothing wrong with her. When I got Brutus, he’d been abused mercilessly with the crop. He wouldn’t let a soul near him, and now look at him.”
He stood there, rapt, watching her in mute fascination. The woman confounded him. She was stubborn to a fault, that sharp tongue of hers could flay like a blade, and yet she worried about the future and care of a deranged horse. Something indefinable squeezed his chest as he reached an arm down to her. She accepted his help, stood, and dusted the leaves off her riding jacket.
“You are extraordinary,” he said, shaking his head. “How is it that you see promise in the things that most people want to discard?”
“Just because something is fractured doesn’t mean it has lost its value.”
They were talking about something else entirely, but spectators on the public path had begun to gather. Nowhere near a crowd or anyone from high society, but enough for the horrified whispers to start getting loud. And once more, he’d forgotten a damn hat in his haste to leave Harte House. Thane squared his shoulders and glared at the stunned onlookers before mounting his horse. Before Astrid could call for the groom who had Luna in hand, he’d reached down to scoop her up and place her across his lap.
“I can ride perfectly well,” she protested.
He did not pause but urged Goliath into a gentle canter. “You winced just before. You’re injured somewhere. Where did you get hurt?”
Thane looked down, registering the flags of color in her cheeks.
“It’s…impolite to say.”
He blinked, confused, and then understanding dawned. She’d injured that spectacular seat of hers. Dozens of lewd propositions sprang to mind—a massage, a closer look, a warm bath—but Thane bit his tongue. “You should not have been on that horse,” he repeated.
She stiffened. “Will you forbid me to ride as you have forbidden me to attend the Featheringstoke ball?”
“I didn’t forbid you.”
“What?”She twisted to glare at him, the grinding motion of her soft thighs against his half-masted cock making him see stars for an endless moment. “You were about to…”
“You made an assumption, little hellion. An incorrect,hastyone. I was simply going to inform you that Sir Thornton will be there, along with my aunt.”
Words appeared to fail her. “Oh.”
“I must say it’s quite gratifying to see that the cat has gotten your tongue.” Thane pulled Goliath to a stop and peered up at the sky, a mock expression of fright on his face.
“What are you doing?” she muttered grumpily.
“Making sure that lightning won’t strike us where we sit.”
“Not funny.” She elbowed him in the ribs and then gasped, cradling her arm. “Gracious, Beswick, you’re as hard as rock.”
He wasn’t, but he was certainly getting there. Thane wasn’t sure she would appreciate his bawdy observation, so he kept his mouth shut.
“Why won’t you go?” she asked. “With me. To the ball.”
“With this face? You saw the reaction of the working classes in Hyde Park. Don’t think it won’t be worse among the nobility. Their cuts are sharper. They don’t hesitate to go for blood.”
“It’s a masquerade.”
