Page 5 of Secrets of the Marriage Bed
He gave Bella’s tack a thorough inspection, before turning his attention to his own horse. Not that he expected his staff to do anything but an excellent job. ‘Her Grace will not be needing you today, Litton.’
The man’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Bella’s not been out under a lady’s saddle for months, Your Grace. She’ll need a close eye.’
A warning if ever Alistair heard one. It seemed Litton had decided to add his wife to the list of people he cared about. Up to now the list had only had one name on it. His own.
‘I’ll take care,’ Alistair said.
Litton’s glance flickered over Alistair’s shoulder, warning him that their topic of conversation had arrived.
Alistair turned to greet her. Her hat was a version of the one he wore, a black beaver, the crown not quite so tall, and adorned with a scrap of net and a peacock-feather cockade. Very stylish. Hopefully it wasn’t only for show and she rode just as well as she looked.
Julia had patted her mount’s neck, checked the girth and adjusted the stirrup with a confident hand before signalling her readiness to mount.
He bent, lacing his fingers together. She adjusted her habit, raising it a fraction, presenting him with a view of a beautifully cut riding boot and a smidgeon of pretty calf. His breath caught in his throat as he recalled the last time he’d had his hands on that calf. How silken her skin had been. How responsive her body to his touch. Once more his body hardened and he bit back a curse at the discomfort. She stepped into his palms and he boosted her into the saddle.
Bella, who up to that moment had been a perfect lady, shifted uneasily.
Alistair’s heart gave a thump. He reached for the bridle, then snatched his hand back as Julia expertly brought the animal under control. She patted Bella’s neck. ‘Easy, girl. You know me. We have had several conversations these past few days.’ The mare settled under her soothing hand and quiet words.
That. He wanted that, her hands on him, soothing, stroking, gentling and perhaps even—He cut the thought off.
Self-disgust at this rare lack of restraint rose in his throat. He forced it down where it belonged—with the shame of his past. He reached for Thor’s reins, while she continued to pat Bella’s neck.
He quelled his body’s unruly response with effort and forced his mind to the task at hand. It seemed his wife was an accomplished horsewoman. What else about her did he not know?
And why would he care?
He swung up on to his horse and they moved off. Outside in the square, Alistair brought Thor up alongside Bella. ‘We’ll go by way of Park Lane. It should be reasonably quiet at this time of the morning. Stay close.’
‘Lay on, MacDuff.’
He’d like to lay on her. The thought crept into his mind unbidden.
Damnation. More adolescent nonsense he could do without. More visions of temptation. He shifted in the saddle.
