Page 9 of To Bed the Bride
“I doubt your sheep would welcome the presence of a horse,” she said. “And Peter and Paul no doubt would object.”
She really shouldn’t pay any attention to his smile. It had the effect of warming her from the inside out.
“What’s her name?” he asked, his hand flattened on Maud’s neck.
“Maud.” Then, even though he hadn’t asked, she filled in the rest of the story for him. “It’s from the Tennyson poem,” she said.
“Maud acts as if she’s never seen sheep.”
She really didn’t want to have an amiable conversation with this man. Instead, she should leave, right this minute.
“She’s exercised at home, in a small paddock.”
He looked at her again. It was the confrontation, of course, that made her feel so very strange at that moment. Or the fact that she’d been warmed from her ride. That was the explanation for the rush of heat she suddenly felt.
“I didn’t expect to meet a beautiful woman on an extraordinary-looking horse today.”
How dare he say such things? It was the height of rudeness, yet at the same time she couldn’t help but feel a tiny frisson of pleasure at his words. She certainly wasn’t beautiful, and saying that was intentional flattery on his part, no doubt to accomplish something nefarious.
He whistled and the dogs moved. She held herself tight as they circled around her, one on each side. With deft nips here and there and a growl toward one enormous ewe, they separated the flock, leaving the road clear.
“Can I help you mount?”
She didn’t turn toward his voice. It would be best if she didn’t notice him at all.
“I suppose you could find a large enough rock if you walk far enough. Or a fence. However, I’d be more than happy to give you a leg up.”
Even the man’s conversation was scandalous. No one mentioned limbs in mixed company.
She glanced at him. As she watched, he linked his hands and bent toward her.
“Wouldn’t this be easier?”
Yes, but she was torn between pride and an increasing sense of embarrassment. Still, accepting his help would be better than having him watch her walk Maud all the way home. Maud was too tall and the stirrup too high for her to mount without assistance.
She nodded to him and placed her foot in the cup of his hands. Standing close to him made him seem even taller and larger than before.
In seconds she was back in the saddle.
He moved to her side, and put his hand at the top of her boot, nearly on her leg. Her bare leg.
“I approve of your alteration,” he said. “I’ve often thought that a lady’s saddle was ludicrous in the extreme. Not to mention damn dangerous.”
He moved closer to her, then raised his hand to encircle her wrist, almost as if he wanted to imprison her.
Looking down at him, she shook her wrist free.
“Will your rudeness know no limits, shepherd?”
“I’m not entirely certain, Miss Eleanor Craig of Hearthmere.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. This insufferable man had the ability to strip the words from her.
“You have no manners.”
“Perhaps you could stay and lecture me on proper behavior,” he said. “Or are you still too afraid of the dogs?”
“I was not afraid,” she said, lying.
