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“I have only ridden over to deliver a message,” Rebecca said, trying to control her horse, which had grown skittish. “Once I have said what I came to say, I shall leave and burden you no further.”
Ben’s entire body was vibrating with rage and fear. “You arenotridingthat horse that wayfor another minute, regardless of what message you have brought!” he roared at her. “Have you no sense at all? Do you wish to break every bone in your body before your ankle even has time to heal? And what’s all this?” He gestured with his hand at her attire and the length of leg that was visible, feeling equally appalled and attracted.
“I have ridden astride my entire life. Simon and Lucas taught both Susan and me how to ride this way. I have kept a pair of breeches with the horse’s tack ever since. And don’t worry, I know how to ride sidesaddle too, in case you think me a complete hoyden.”
“I think you are . . . I don’t know what to think! Except that you are getting off that horse this very instant!” Ben stalked to her horse, which only made it more skittish, blast it all. “MacKay!” he roared.
“Give us a minute, my lord,” MacKay bellowed back from inside the stable.
“Hand me those reins,” Ben said.
“No,” Rebecca said, glaring stubbornly back at him.
“Hand me those reinsnow,” Ben commanded. “Before I drag you off that horse.”
She backed the horse away from Ben, which only made him more upset. “My message is brief, and then I will leave you to your solitary gloominess,” she said.
“This hasnothingto do with your message andeverythingto do with yoursafety!” he thundered at her. “Irefuseto be the person whoonce againdelivers you to your family in bits and pieces. Hand me those reinsnow!”
“Something makes me think I’m safer on my horse than I would be on the ground,” she replied curtly to him.
His teeth might actually crumble to bits, he was clenching them so tightly. “I mean it; hand me the reins.”
“Not without assurances of you controlling your obvious loss of temper,” she said.
“Rebecca,” he said in a low tone he hoped reassured her. He wasn’t losing his temper, as she presumed—he was terrified.
She made a distinct growling sound in the back of her throat. “Fine,” she said and reluctantly handed the reins to Ben, allowing him to breathe for the first time since he’d spotted her through the window. He proceeded to lead the horse and its obstinate rider to the stable, where he hitched the reins to a post. He then grabbed Rebecca by the waist. “Mind your ankle,” he barked and then began to hoist her into his arms. “You may deliver your message to me in a respectable manner in my front parlor, where Mrs. Snow will provide you with refreshments. AndthenI intend to return you to Alderwood in my phaeton so I can assure myself that you have arrived home inone piece.”
“Ow!” she yelped as she slid from the saddle. “Be careful of my ankle.”
“That is precisely the point!” he shot back at her.
She glared at him. He glared back.
He carried her to the front entrance and kicked at the door. “Snow!” he yelled. He kicked the door again.
He could see Snow through the windows, scurrying in his direction.
“What, my lord? Oh, goodness!” Snow exclaimed when he opened the door, then swung it wider and got out of the way.
“Refreshments for Miss Jennings, please,” Ben said. “In the front parlor.”
“I shall let Mrs. Snow know immediately, my lord.” He bowed rather more formally than usual, then hurried off.
* * *
Rebecca wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to hit Ben and hug him at the same time. She wanted to throttle him. She wanted to deliver her message and be gone swiftly before she had time to let her heart be caught up by him—and completely devastated once again.
She could feel his heart pounding violently as he carried her, and she could see the veins in his neck pulsing. His jaw was set, his mouth was a hard line, and his eyes glinted. She was pressed closer to him than she’d been on any of the other occasions when he’d held her.
When they reached the parlor, he set her down in a large, upholstered chair and slid a footrest over next to it. “Allow me,” he said brusquely—he didn’t ask—as he placed her feet upon it.
Then he began to pace about the room.
As she watched him, her own jaw clenched tighter in indignation.
“What I fail to understand,” he said at last, still continuing to pace back and forth, back and forth, “iswhyyou felt this message you came to deliver had to be donein personwhen you very easily could have written and had a footman deliver it. I don’t even know what your message is yet, but I am completely confident it could have been delivered without having placed yourentire personat risk.”
