Taking his grunt as assent, she marched ahead.
He caught up easily. “You…er…have always enjoyed horse riding?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“Do you like all desserts, or merely chocolate?”
What an odd thing to say. How did that relate to her skills as an experienced horsewoman? She spared him a quick glance. “Since you ask, yes, I am partial to chocolate.”
“I thought as much,” he murmured.
She frowned at him, trying to work out what sort of insult he intended by the quip. “What of it?”
“I noticed that after our meal the other night. You seemed to enjoy the chocolate.” He arched his brows at her as if encouraging her to elaborate.
She sniffed. He wanted to engage in polite conversation, now? No, thank you. Not after his unspeakable rudeness. And anyway, it was clear his opinion of her had not changed one iota from the day they’d met.
Just as she began to consider he might have a few, minuscule, redeeming qualities, he insulted her gown and then had the unspeakable gall to offer her the use of another lady’s dresses. She would not be caught dead in his cast-off hand-me-downs. She’d sooner wear one of Babette’s maid uniforms or go naked.
So caught up was she in her thoughts, it took her a moment to realize he’d stopped walking.
She shifted ‘round to see what had kept him and found him standing stock-still, one hand splayed on his hip, frowning at her, though not in the annoyed manner he reserved, as far as shecould tell, for her alone. More in the manner of someone gearing up for something unpleasant.
“I think we can probably mount up here,” he said, darkly.
She did not bother to staunch the smile curving her lips at the prospect. She would finally ride Zeus.
***
He swung himself up into the saddle, not wanting to risk Zeus throwing Annabelle and breaking her pretty little neck before he could join her. Although the temperamental animal did seem to have fallen under her spell, exactly like every other male seemed inclined to do.
He looked down into her upturned face and found himself subjected to the same icy regard she’d aimed at him since they’d left the stable yard. So he’d made the unkind crack about her dress. He’d offered to furnish several others for her use.
She was acting as if he’d shot her dog, or, more aptly, her pony.
Bracing himself for the torture that lay ahead, he reached for her with both hands, hefting up her lithe form and settling her before him on the saddle in one move. She fit perfectly, perched there on her very fine bottom, legs draped over one side.
Her nose high in the air, back arched rigid as a bow string, she gave every indication the thought of touching him any more than absolutely necessary was anathema to her.
Excellent.
“I’m quite secure,” she said in a peeved tone. “I have hold of Zeus’s mane. And I have good balance. You may remove your hands.”
Hell and damnation. With a grunt of annoyance he hadn’t meant to loose, he lifted his hands from her—hands that, until that moment, still bracketed either side of her waist as if they belonged there. The woman had muddled his brain.
“One of my arms will need to remain around you—for stability, as we ride,” he muttered.
“It’s not necessary, I assure you.”
“Fine.” If she tumbled off his horse, so be it.
Reaching around her, carefully, so as not to brush against her, he scooped up Zeus’s reins then used his heels to signal it was time to move.
Zeus set off.
Graceful as a swan, Annabelle swayed in time to the rhythm of his movement.
The weather was fine, and she’d loosened the ties of her cloak, so it draped over her upper back. Unable to curb the impulse, Sterling allowed his gaze to drift over her slender nape. Her scent, that uniquely herbal blend, still clung to her enough to tease his nostrils, twisting his insides and tightening his groin.
