Chapter Eight
As Kate hurried up to her room to change, she knew she’d been a fool to agree to go riding with Talon. But how could she have said no?
He was everything she’d ever wanted. Handsome and kind, yet wild and a little dangerous. He treated her as though her opinion mattered, as though what she said and thought were of interest. When she was with him, the harsh reality of her life drifted away. He made her feel young again.
She frowned at the thought. Why shouldn’t she feel young? She was only twenty-two years old. Her marriage to Daniel was making her old before her time. With new determination, she finished buttoning her emerald riding habit, then pinned her hair up beneath a jaunty green hat.
When she met Talon in the stables fifteen minutes later, his gaze swept over her with undisguised appreciation. “I’ve never known a woman to be so prompt, yet still manage to look so lovely.”
She smiled, trying to tamp down the pleasure his words provoked. “I’ve never known a man so free with his compliments.”
A charming grin lit his face, and he motioned toward the waiting horses. “The groom told me you preferred Ginger, so I took the liberty of having her saddled.”
“Ginger will be fine, and Jack here is another of my favorites.” Kate assessed Talon’s choice. For some reason she’d expected him to choose a high-spirited stallion, perhaps that black devil his father liked to ride.
Instead he’d chosen a rangy, chestnut gelding.
Talon helped her mount the little gray mare, his hands lingering longer than necessary on her waist. A thrill moved through her when he leapt into his own saddle. He sat his horse with ease and fluid grace, as though he’d been born to it.
They rode west toward Hyde Park and the infamous stretch of road known as Rotten Row. It wasn’t long before they started garnering curious glances.
“We’re causing quite a scandal.” Kate bowed her head, guiding her mare closer to Talon’s mount so she could speak to him in whispered tones. “We should go somewhere else. By noon, everyone in town will know I was seen riding in the park with my husband’s brother.”
Talon raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Why do you care? You’ll be leaving soon. There’s nothing any of these small-minded people can do to hurt you.”
He was absolutely right, and the knowledge freed her. For the first time in her life, she needn’t worry about what everyone thought. The only person who would be hurt by a scandal was her father-in-law.
She wanted to cause one just to spite him.
A laugh bubbled from her lips. Not the quiet, restrained laugh she’d been admonished to use in public. No, this laughter was uninhibited, husky, and not at all ladylike. Heads turned in her direction, but she ignored them, wondering why she’d ever cared what anyone thought about her in the first place.
Talon shot her a quick glance and then laughed with her, the deep sound ringing out across the park. “You have a beautiful laugh. I hope to hear it more often.”
“You will.” If anyone could make her laugh, it was him. She kicked Ginger into an undignified cantor, and Talon raced alongside her, his lean body moving in graceful tandem with his horse.
They sped past the sedate aristocracy who had come merely to see and be seen, through a copse of trees, and into a lovely little garden filled with wild roses and a small, white gazebo.
He reined in beside her, his blue eyes dancing with pure devilry. “Let’s stop here for awhile. You like roses, don’t you?”
She frowned, a prickle of unease chasing down her spine. The garden was completely secluded, the perfect place for a tryst. “Maybe we should head back to the house.”
“Nonsense.” He dismounted and came around to offer her a hand. “I’ve already promised to play the gentleman. You have nothing to fear from me.”
He’d only promised to play the gentleman, notbeone.
She searched his gaze and then allowed him to help her dismount.
Once again, he held her against him, chest to chest, for just a moment longer than was necessary or proper. His scent, freshly washed skin, horses and musk, made her heady with delight. At last he stepped away, pressing one hand to the small of her back and leading her to the bench inside the gazebo.
“How did you know I liked roses?” She was desperate to get the conversation back to safe ground, determined to resist him no matter how much he tempted her.
He leaned against the rail and placed one booted foot on the bench beside her. Muscles rippled down the long length of his thigh, and she stared, transfixed.
Bowing his head, he fiddled with his jacket cuff. “I was in the library, back at the Manor, when Sutcliffe interrogated you.”
She’d already known that, thanks to Betsy, but she was glad he’d told her. For some reason, she didn’t want there to be any secrets between them. She sighed. “You must have thought me pathetic.”
He shook his head. “Ah, Kate. You were anything but that. I liked the way you stood up to my father. And I really loved the fact that you had dirt on your hands.”
