“Youare my guest.” He also shifted in his saddle, the line of his mouth hardening. “But the Dilettanti are touring the countryside, or so they said. I believe they wanted to call on Mr. Hawkins. If I remember correctly, Mr. Hawkins has a lovely daughter.”
Disdain dripped from his voice, but he did not elaborate.
“Do you doubt their intentions?” I asked, my curiosity increasing. The more I encountered Mr. Beaumont, the more troubled I felt.
“I doubt any man’s intentions with a woman beneath his station,” he replied.
Heat crept up my cheeks at such a blatant dismissal, banishing any hopes of securing his affection. “We are not all blessed to be born into peerage.”
“No,” he protested. “I did not—”
A gunshot reverberated far from the trees, scattering birds in the trees to take flight. The sound cracked again. Louder, echoing across the valley.
In a single moment, I found my circumstances utterly changed.
Annabelle bolted forward as if a demon had poked her side with a white-hot pincer. The cob who had refused to do more than amble along the dirt road lunged forward, jerking the reins from my numb fingers. She galloped hard, forcing me to grasp the pommel. I managed to snatch one of the reins at last.
“Stop!” I cried. Panic blinded me as we rushed past the rows of apple trees in a blur of brown. Father and Mr. Harrington were no longer in sight, perhaps scouring the orchard or having turned back.
Any cry for help froze in my lungs as the horse ran like a frantic hare evading capture.
Someone shouted my name.
The wind rushed against my face as I pulled on the single rein, which only turned her. A foolish action, sending me careering into the trees. She did not stop, widely swerving again as I hung on for dear life.
Oh, God...If this was a prayer, it was all I could utter.
How I hated horses.
I could do nothing but bounce on her back, my legs desperately clinging to her. She veered left and suddenly I felt myself sliding on the sidesaddle. And then I spied the low rock wall separatingHawthorn Abbey’s holdings from another farmer, the barrier a long line between fields of grass.
“Stop!” I cried again. I shut my eyes tightly, bracing myself for the pain that would soon follow. I would be dashed to pieces on the ground if she tried to jump that obstacle.
A firm arm grabbed me and yanked, pulling me up like a rag doll, only to plunk me onto another saddle. I found myself squeezed against a firm chest, pinned against him. I opened one eye to see Rafe’s blanched features.
He whirled Chaucer around, as nimble as could be, and drew the horse to a halt while I sat in his arms, quivering, with my ears ringing and my breathing shallow.
“Bridget, speak to me,” he urged, his breath warm against my forehead. His chest beat with an unsteady rhythm, matching my own as we clung to each other.
I licked my dry lips. “I fear your version of a tame ride differs from mine.”
He flinched despite my feeble attempt at humor. “I did promise, and I do not break promises. I don’t know what happened.”
I fought to control my racing pulse. “I heard a gunshot. It must have frightened her.” Then, much to my embarrassment, my teeth chattered loudly.
Instead of loosening his grip on me, he tightened it. “Bridget, I am truly sorry, especially after what you told me regarding your experience with your brother. I would never willingly endanger you. If only I could prove to you my regard.”
When I didn’t answer, he lifted my chin with his finger, his gaze pleading as it met mine. The wind tore at his hair and his eyes darkened.
Before I could rethink my actions, I reached with one gloved hand and touched his cheek. His mouth parted. I could notimagine feeling safer than I did at that moment. He looked so concerned, I could not restrain myself.
I leaned into him and brushed my lips against his to reassure him I would be fine. Just a quick kiss. A shudder rippled through him.
“Bridget.” He murmured my name against my mouth, as if to ask permission, and then he kissed me. His hand at the back of my head, his lips pressed a searing heat against mine. I was lost in the moment, inhaling his scent of leather and sandalwood. Could there be a more heavenly combination?
When he pulled back, we were both breathing hard. A low groan escaped him.
“Forgive me,” he rasped.
