Page 28 of The Lyon’s Paw

She raised her head cautiously. “What happened?”

“You fell off Mirabelle and almost gave me an apoplexy.”

“As we landed the jump, a rabbit ran out from the hedgerow and startled Mirabelle. She shied and I guess I lost my seat.” The fall had rattled Diana, but not nearly as badly as Geoffrey’s presence beside her did. She was mortified that she’d believed he wanted to postpone the journey to America because he didn’t wish to divorce her now. How stupid could she be?

“Are you injured?” His voice was stern, but the concern in his eyes was real. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

“Let me see.” Wearily, Diana sat up, all the muscles in her back apparently acting as they always had. So far so good. Gingerly, she stretched out her arms and rotated her wrists, moved each finger. No pain, thank goodness. “I seem to be in fine fettle from the waist up.” She glanced up to find him staring at her with such intensity, she gasped.

“Does something hurt?” He leaned toward her, his large masculine presence making her feel suddenly very small indeed.

“N…no, I was just…you were…” Her heart fluttered in a most traitorous fashion. Oh, but she had to get herself in hand. She couldn’t let herself continue to think he cared when he obviously didn’t. Or didn’t care that way. He was only acting concerned about her because of the fall. Nothing else. “I seem to be unhurt.” She needed to put some distance between them. Then perhaps her heart would stop pounding. “Can you help me rise?”

He bounded to his feet, leaned over and plucked her up from the ground as though she were a child’s doll.

She’d forgotten how strong the man was. And how warm. His hands seemed to burn her skin even through her riding habit.

He set her on her feet and she found her balance—until she put weight on her left foot.

“Ouch!” Instinctively she grabbed hold of him, her hands seeking purchase on the wide expanse of his chest.

His arms were around her in an instant. “Is it your leg?”

“My ankle…the left one.” She could scarcely speak for the racing of her heart. All she could think of—even more than the pain—were the strong arms holding her. Oh, but this was unfair.

He picked her up, taking her breath away with the ease with which he did it, and lowered her toward the ground. “Let me take a look.”

Before she could think to protest, he gently deposited her on the cold, stiff grass, settled her skirts around her, then slid his hand underneath and grasped her booted foot. Diana gasped, both from the pain and the idea that he was touching her in so intimate a place.

“Sorry.” Swiftly, he untied her half-boots, then ran gentle fingers over her stockinged ankle. “It’s beginning to swell a bit.” He pressed softly and she sucked in a breath as the pain shot up her leg. “But I don’t think it’s broken. Can you wiggle your toes?”

She complied cautiously. “Yes, they will move, and the pain is slight.”

“Can you rotate the ankle at all?” He was peering at her leg so intently, Diana blushed. Having him hovering so close to her was causing all sorts of flutterings within that had nothing whatsoever to do with her pain.

He glanced up at her, his dark eyes filled with concern. “Is it too painful to move at all?”

“No, well…I don’t know. Let me tr—Ouch! Oh, that hurts.” She’d moved the ankle slowly, but as soon as it had begun to turn, a streak of pain had shot up her leg. “Are you certain it’s not broken?”

A worried frown creased his brow. “I’m not sure. If the pain had been less, I’d say it wasn’t, but now…” He paused, then stood. “The best thing we can do is get you home and send for Mr. Farley, the surgeon in the nearest village. He will be able to say for sure if it is broken.” Geoffrey bent and scooped her up, again as though she were a thistle, and headed toward his horse. “Can you ride astride?”

Diana, whose face was nearly hidden in his chest, nodded. “I did so when I was quite young. I’m certain I’ll be able to stay on.”

“Well, we won’t be riding as fast as we did, and I will be right behind you to make certain you don’t fall again.” He placed her on the saddle and Diana quickly slid her right leg over the horse’s neck, both legs now dangling on either side of Lucifer. Geoffrey pulled his foot up and stuck it into the stirrup.

“You’re going to ride behind me?” At that thought her heart, that had finally calmed down, took off beating frantically once more. Why couldn’t he simply walk beside her, leading the horse? Sitting so close behind her was only going to make her that much more aware of her terrible folly.

“Mirabelle is nowhere to be found and we are several miles from the house. I, for one, do not fancy that long a walk in Hessians.” He stared at her, one eyebrow quirking upward. “Do you mind me being seated behind you?”

“No.” Somehow it came out a croak. All she could think about was the feel of his hand on her ankle. “Of course, that will be fine.”

With the ease of a cat leaping upward, he pulled himself into the saddle, settling himself right behind her, his front pressed securely against her back. Without thought, she straightened her spine, but that only forced her body to touch his all the way down to where her bottom met the saddle. So improper, even for a husband and wife. Well, maybe not, if the husband and wife were planning to remain that way. Otherwise, it was indecent that this improper touch was sending streaks of fire down to the core of her, igniting an inferno she’d never experienced before.

He started Lucifer into a jarring trot that rubbed their bodies together like two pieces of firewood looking for a spark. She had to gulp in air to keep from moaning at the pleasurable burn that had begun to kindle deep inside her. What on earth was happening to her? She shouldn’t be…enjoying this so much. Especially not if he didn’t… She stifled a little groan. Not if he didn’t care for her in return.

Was she certain he didn’t? Even if she’d been mistaken about why he wanted to wait to leave for America, did that mean he hadn’t come to regard her with something other than loathing? Their whole time in London, he’d been kind and gracious toward her. He’d been the one to ask to use their first names, a very intimate request. And then there had been the night he’d almost kissed her.

She’d thought about that moment more often than she cared to admit. Wondering what his lips might feel like pressed against hers. How such a caress would affect her body. Or how it might lead to more…