Page 51 of The Rules of Matrimony
“Where do you normally ride?” she asked. The hunting box itself was small and close to the road, but she did not know how far the estate extended behind it. The untamed land stretched as far as her eye could see.
“I prefer variety and following my mood,” Ian answered, pointing to the west. “There’s a rise not far from here that has a breathtaking view just above the trees.”
“Is it a difficult ride?”
“Not terribly.” He looked at her over his shoulder. “I know neither us slept well, so if you aren’t up to it today, perhaps I can show you another time.”
“I should like that.”
“When was the last time you rode?”
She thought for a moment. “Just before my father died, so I suppose I was a few months shy of thirteen.”
“And did you care for it then?”
“I was fearless as a youth. For my twelfth birthday, I was gifted a pretty buckskin mare I named Pegasus.”
“Ah, the flying mythological horse. A very romantic choice.”
She laughed lightly. “She was no white stallion, but she soared when she ran. To my great dismay, Papa did not allow me to give her her head often, saying my form had to improve first. I grumbled a great deal about it.”
“So you grumbled about someone other than me? I like this story more and more. What happened to Pegasus?”
Amie glanced wistfully at the countryside. “As much as I loved Peg, we had to sell her after Papa died. I refused to cry. I cared more that I would not ride with Papa anymore.”
“I’m sorry for that little girl. She lost a great deal.”
“Riding was one of the few activities we did together, as you can imagine. A man does not often have time to visit the nursery.”
“My father certainly did not, so I can understand.” Ian spoke toward the trees, but she wished she could see his expression and know exactly what that memory did to him.
“Did you ever ride together?” she asked.
“I do recall a few rides with him over the years that I had forgotten about until now.”
“Did you get along then?”
He shrugged once, his athletic form standing beside her horse. “I suppose we did. He was always an intimidating man, and I was quick to do as he said. I fear I resented him for his imperious attitude from a young age, but I also craved whatever attention he gave me.”
She fingered the smooth leather reins. “You sound like a normal youth.”
He chuckled. “If there is such a thing, then I suppose I was. There is too much buried in the past for me to want to dig it up.”
There he went again, telling her just enough to answer a question but barely scratching the surface. There was clearly more in his past concerning his father, but it appeared to be a carefully guarded secret. Or maybesecretwasn’t the word. A carefully guarded hurt, perhaps? Reaching forward to run her hand down the mare’s mane, she asked the next question on the tip of her tongue, one he could answer with greater ease. “When you’re not saving the world, what sort of pastimes do you enjoy? Is riding your favorite?”
He glanced back at her. “Ah, more prying questions. I do enjoy a good ride, but I also like swimming, fishing, archery, fencing, chess, and, generally, whatever my friends rope me into. What about you? Besides bringing broth to sick neighbors and tending to convalescing maids in our upstairs room.”
Our. He saidourupstairs room. Like when he had said her title, it felt like progress. Toward what, she couldn’t say. But surely it meant something that he had finally admitted to following her and watching her charity visits.
“I like reading and sewing, though I do neither very well, but I suppose what I like the most is to listen.” She felt brave confessing this much about herself, but she wanted to tell him. Wanted someone to know her. Wantedhimto know her. “I like when people tell me their troubles. It makes me feel valued and useful.”
“Are you hinting at something?”
She cast her gaze to the blue sky rippled with frothy white. “Is it working?”
He shook his head. “You already know far more about me than I ever intended you to learn. Listening, though, is a good quality, Amie. I wish more had such a unique talent.”
Her cheeks warmed with pleasure. Did he really think so? “I’ve never thought of it as a talent.”
