“Stop worrying,” Lord Blackthorne said, halting his bay beside her.
“I’m not worrying,” she said, trying to see past him. She hoped the rope held Mr. Dover.
“Yes, you are.”
She frowned up at him. Really, the impudence of this man was extraordinary. “How do you know?” “You have that line right between your eyebrows.” He reached down, and she thought he would touch her. Instead, he held his hand out to her. “Let’s go.”
Maddie blanched and shook her head. “I’m not riding with you.” She glanced over at his brother, but Ashley was already seated behind Lord Nicholas.
How had that happened? Blackthorne was Ashley’s fiancé; she should be riding with him. Then she might have ridden with Lord Nicholas. It was as improper to ride with him as with his brother, but at least the younger Martingale was affable.
But Ashley with Lord Nicholas, and she with Lord Blackthorne, was all wrong. What was Ashley doing? She’d acted as though she hated Lord Nicholas even more than Lord Blackthorne.
Maddie eyed Ashley, studying the way her friend’s arms were wrapped around Lord Nicholas. As soon as she had a moment, she would quiz Ashley on her past with Lord Nicholas. Whatever had been between them didn’t appear to be quite over.
Blackthorne snapped at her, and Maddie whipped her head back. Had the man just treated her like a dog?
“Lady Madeleine,” he said impatiently, “I have neither the time nor the inclination to argue with you any further. Take my hand and climb up or walk the entire way. At this point, I don’t care what you do.”
Maddie ground her teeth together and glared at him. Who was he to order her about and snap at her as though she were his trained hound? Odious, uncouth man.
But he was an odious uncouth man she was stuck with, at present anyway. It wouldn’t serve to anger him. She might find herself walking to Gretna Green.
So, with firm determination, she clapped her hand into his, hard, and allowed him to help her up behind him. But all the while, she was imagining when and how she would force him to apologize and beg her forgiveness.
The horse wore no saddle, and when she was behind Blackthorne, it took a moment for her to adjust. She was still finding her balance and attempting to seat herself comfortably when Blackthorne spurred the horse forward. She almost did a Mr. Dover.
Maddie was forced to clutch the marquess around the waist and hang on tightly. The act of touching him was agony and ecstasy all at once.
Increasingly, she disliked him and his rude, selfish, I-stick-my-neck-in-the-noose-for-no-one behavior. And increasingly, she found herself imagining him touching her and kissing her.
Touching him again made her forget how much she despised him, and it brought those unwanted, disloyal feelings of desire rushing back.
She could be grateful, at least, that he had donned his tailcoat when he returned from chasing the men of the village. She didn’t know how she would have survived if she’d had to hold onto that muscular chest with only a thin layer of linen between them.
The group once again began the long trek to Gretna Green. Maddie and Lord Blackthorne led the procession, followed by Lord Nicholas and Ashley, the packhorse on leading strings, and, in the rear, a wobbly Mr. Dover.
Blackthorne began at a brisk pace. It might be dark, but he intended to make good time. Maddie worried that the speed might be too much for Mr. Dover’s weak horsemanship skills, but when she looked back, she saw that her fiancé was still seated. Thank the Lord for small favors.
She twisted forward and stared at Blackthorne’s back. She couldn’t see a thing over his shoulders.
“Comfortable?” Blackthorne asked.
“No,” she answered immediately, not caring that it sounded rude. He was so uncouth, she didn’t think he’d even notice.
She felt rather than heard the low rumble of laughter in his chest. “You don’t like me much, do you?”
She wanted to say no, that she didn’t like him at all. Not in the slightest. But she couldn’t be that impolite. She had standards. “I don’t wish to discuss my feelings for you,” she retorted. Her mother had always told her that if she had nothing pleasant to say, she should say nothing whatsoever. She was following that advice.
“But you liked kissing me, didn’t you?”
Maddie inhaled sharply and stiffened. Then, aware that Blackthorne could probably feel her reaction, she tried to relax and pretend his question hadn’t concerned her.
“I don’t wish to discuss that earlier incident,” she said coldly, and felt Blackthorne chuckle again.
“I’ll bet you don’t.”
Maddie shot daggers into his back with her eyes. “What do you mean by that, sir? Are you implying that I want it to happen again? Because I assure you that kissing you is the furthest thing from my mind.”
