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She would run him to earth, yes, she would. But how? Where the devil was he?
In this mood, she rose from the table to hunt out the butler and find out where the letter had come from. Ha! Did Glen think she could not track him down? She had been doing so for years and had the knack of it. Yes, by faith! She would track him down and have at him.
~ Sixteen ~
AS FELICIA GAZED across at Glen Ashton, she could not help but remember their night and wanted nothing more than to find safety in the fold of his arms.
He had invited her on a morning ride, and she had accepted with a joy that had permeated every fiber of her being, but now she was worried. He looked … troubled.
He had helped her into her saddle and had
whispered her name as though reciting a quiet benediction.
As they rode, he laughed at the anecdote she had recited to set herself at ease, and she dimpled at his response, for he had announced that she was a ‘rough and tumble’ miss but that he liked her just as she was. She smiled and answered him, “Yes, I suppose I have always been that—rough and tumble. It is so much more fun than being prim and proper and doing what is expected simply because it is expected.”
“Ah, no doubt those Godwin ladies have infected you with their modern writings?”
“Godwin? I have not read their works, but now you have intrigued me, I shall,” she said and laughed. “No, my infection is self-inflicted. I do not see at all why women must do this or do that and not be allowed to do so much. It makes no sense to me, especially since those rules are put in place by men.”
He laughed and said quietly, “You are a treasure.”
She beamed to herself, for just then she was somewhere in a ‘make-believe world’, and reality, for the time, need not concern her.
They trotted along for a time, both apparently pleased to be out for a ride and both pleased with one another, although when Felicia glanced at his profile she saw immediately that something was on his mind.
Should she ask? No. She would wait, and as she made this decision he reached over, touched her gloved fingers with his own, and said, “You know, all I can think of, Felicia, is stopping our horses, and pulling you off yours and—”
“Ah,” she said, stopping him. “But there is the ‘but’ in there, for I hear it clearly.” She was a bold-faced woman to speak thusly with him, but straight talking was so much better than going around in circles.
He laughed. “Of course there is a ‘but’. Do you think that is what I want for you?”
“What do you want for me?” she bantered. “Or have you already set me aside with just the one night?” There, she had put it to him. She felt the blush burn her cheeks, but it was the question uppermost in her mind. Out in the open. Now she would know.
He frowned darkly at her. “I don’t like to hear you speak like that.”
“Do you not?” was all she could muster in a voice she scarcely recognized as her own. Was that her heart starting to crackle with worry?
“Temptress, do not make me thrash my principles and pull you off your horse and do everything I am yearning to do with you here and now,” he answered, and his voice sounded harsh to her delicate ears.
“Principles?” She eyed him and said no more.
“It was wrong of me to seduce you last night … you didn’t understand the fire you were playing with—the sort of burn that awaits such games.”
“Burned—I think I am not yet. I have been quite thoroughly singed and by my own actions, though. Yours were quite … welcome, and I do not mind the aftermath of my actions,” she said quietly.
He rounded on her. “Flip! You are an innocent, and I am a cad.”
She laughed. “Not yet, you are not.”
He shook his head and said, “I wanted to take you on this ride to tell you what happened last night cannot happen again. It was most wrong of me to take advantage of your … attraction to me and when you are so very vulnerable. You were in a terrible situation. I came along and rescued you and Scott—and in your mind, you, well, you have fixated on me. That is not what I want. You think me some sort of hero, and I am not worthy of one hair on your head.”
She hung her head. Was he just being kind? Breaking it to her gently that she did not suit him? He was a hero, and that was what he would do. He had thoroughly and completely wiped away all joy in their morning. “I see,” she said softly.
“No, you do not, but from here on out, I mean that you shall,” he said in something of a passion.
She eyed him then, for her spirit was indomitable. She was not the sort to cave and give up. She said, “Are you afraid of me?”
“I am afraid that any honor I ever thought I had is being blown into the wind because of you,” he answered softly.
