She resisted the urge to shoo him away. The weight of her skirts and the uneven ground could render even the most accomplished horsewoman unsteady. The last thing she needed was to ruin the moment by landing on her arse.
“There, now, Molly,” he soothed the horse. “She’ll be off in a thrice.”
She slid gracefully onto the ground, but he placed his warm hands on either side of her waist anyway. She was now more than a little breathless and not entirely because of the way her stays pinched. The shock of contact burned even after he moved away to secure the horses to the tie weights partially concealed by shrubs.
Softly, he assured them they would not be left in discomfort for long. Then, he held out his arm. Together they navigated a small path through a thick wood.
How strange and wonderful to be on adventure with him!
Gradually, a free-standing spiral of stairs came into view, then a partial wall, then a more intact network of stone chambers. She’d read somewhere that the estate contained ruins, but the ruins spread out before her were far more impressive than she’d imagined.
“Harbury!” She exclaimed. “It is as if the abbey ruins in Wordsworth’s poem have been recreated here.”
“They are just as picturesque, yes. But these aren’t abbey ruins. This was a priory for monks associated with the parish of St. Margaret’s, where we were wed.”
“Ah, yes,” she glanced askance, “thelittlechapel.”
He chuckled softly. “Every duke and duchess married there. I wanted to stay true to tradition. Had I given you a more accurate description, you might have cried off in fear.”
No, she wouldn’t have.
Then again, he didn’t know just how much she’d wanted him.
Teasingly, she lifted a brow. “A more accurate description, like trading ‘little church’ for ‘gothic behemoth?’”
“A gothicmasterpiece, you mean. With a two-hundred-foot spire, five medieval frescos, fifteen different types of marble, and statues depicting deceased dukes and duchesses.”
“So. Many. Monuments,” she agreed, glancing heavenward.
“A surfeit,” he acknowledged. “After my father’s monument was installed as specified in his will, the rector asked me to move the lectern from the back of the chancel to the front in order for the prayerful collected to be able to see and hear his homily.”
Cassie ducked under a low-hanging branch he held aloft. “Do you want to know what Millie said about the statues?”
“I’m not sure.” He chuckled. “Do I?”
“She told me I must insist on pink marble when the time comes to create my monument.”
“Why?”
“Because the duchesses whose likenesses were carved in gray looked too dour.”
He laughed again. “The duchesses carved in gray likelyweredour.”
“As Nettie pointed out, theyaredeceased. A state unlikely to induce good humor on the present plane.” She ventured a glance. “All those monuments made the’till death do us part’a little more daunting.”
He stopped walking. She turned.
“God willing, we’ve a good long time before we part.” He touched her cheek.
He looked sincere. Almost loving.
Between the romantic gesture of his bringing her here, and the talk ofweandourandallies, she was coming to believe she meant something to him. But how much, she wasn’t sure.
Was she always to be merely second prize, claimed only because the first had been won by another? She needed to know.
She worried her lip, and then she summoned courage. “Are you sorry we wed?”
“No.” He shook his head slowly. “You’re nothing like what I expected, however.”
