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“Kian has taken her for ices. Heaven help his pockets as she can eat till the waiters weep.”
“So… It’s just us then.”
A smile so wicked the devil must envy it encased his lips. “Exactly so. And now the prizefight is over and Astwood has seen you anyhow…” He unclasped her cloak at the neck and thrust it from her shoulders. “No longer the nefarious footpad on the prowl but the bold and brave Miss Matilda Griffin, governess to the fairly rich and not-so-idle. Ride up top with me? I promise you will gain the wings to feel free as a swift in flight.”
“Why yes, I would like that, Mr Seth Hawkins,” she replied in kind. “And may I take the reins? I’ve never done so, you see, and you did say I should not be missish.”
“Did I say that?” His eyes expressed mock shock as he descended the steps and held out a hand. “And if so, surely I did not mean taking command of a man’s horses. I am undone.”
Seizing that hand, she watched his eyes darken to walnut and leaf as she stepped down, witnessed his throat bob. “Something awry, Mr Hawkins?”
“I truly am undone,” he said gruffly, waving a hand at her skirts. “The sunshine…”
She squinted down. Without her cloak and likewise petticoats, the weak sun shone through her nankeen skirts to reveal the outline of her legs, the material scandalously clinging to her rump and hips.
Shame ought to have descended, a moral outrage at the impropriety; she ought to have scuttled back into the carriage with a dismayed gasp.
Matilda jumped to the ground in abandon. “You promised I’d gain wings. A promise I intend to hold you to.”
That feeling…that feeling of life and excitement and sheer joy surged through her veins. And she knew that it was Seth Hawkins who’d placed it there – with his scalding kiss, his infectious confidence and his limitless fun.
She scampered up to the carriage seat, not caring that her skirts rose to bare her ankles, and she grabbed the reins.
“Care to ride up top with me, Mr Hawkins. I promise to be gentle.”
He growled and clambered up next to her, close and pressing upon the box seat. “Miss Griffin.” He twisted his head – that lopsided smile sending shivers throughout. “You can be as rough as you wish with me.”
Laughing loud, she held out the reins to him, as in truth she had no idea how to handle a carriage, but he placed his broad hands upon hers, kept a firm hold and jerked the leather.
The two rested horses keenly followed from the Common, the trail flattened by boot and wheel, and they departed the tall iron gates. Grass gave way to rutted track, then to lane, and the horses, sensing smoother ground, gained speed.
Trees rushed by on either side, a few blurred men on foot doffed their slouched hats and a fierce breeze ruffled her hair.
Gentle sunshine shone.
And just as Seth had promised, she felt free as a swift in flight.
