“Oh, dear Lord,” she mumbled, then began to say Psalm 23 over and over again. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil.”
On the third rendition, Carlisle interrupted. “This is hardly the valley of the shadow of death. The sun is out, and the road is clear. Look at the trees, Lady Katherine.”
“Thy rod and thy staff—I don’t want to see trees—they comfort me.”
“What about flowers?”
“Thou preparest a table before me—” Katie opened her eyes. “Flowers?”
Carlisle pointed. “Flowers blooming in the shadow of death.”
Katie might have been tempted to look where he pointed, but in doing so, he’d released her waist. “Don’t do that!” she yelped. “Hold on to me!”
“Yes, my lady.” His arm went about her waist again, and she was instantly comforted. She still didn’t like sitting on the beast’s back, but her heart wasn’t pounding as furiously now. She looked cautiously about and took note of a few wildflowers here and there.
“How much longer to Dunwich?” she asked.
“Not long. Would you like to get there faster? I can have Diablo trot.”
“Diablo!” Katie turned and gave Carlisle a terrified look. “His name isDiablo?” But she already knew that was not the horse’s name. Carlisle was laughing too hard. And the laughter made his grip on her loosen. “Stop laughing and hold on to me.”
“Your servant, my lady.” His arm tightened, and he pulled her back so she was flush against his chest. “Better?”
Katie didn’t answer. Now that some of her fear had subsided, she had the wherewithal to note that she was indecently close to the Duke of Carlisle. Not only was she seated practically on his lap, he was holding her close. She’d asked him to hold her close, but she hadn’t considered what that might mean. Namely, that she could feel the warmth of his body through her spencer and seeping into her gown and thus her skin. She caught his scent too, when the breeze was just so. He still smelled of a musky citrus that was so tantalizing she turned her head whenever the scent teased her nose.
But what she noticed most of all was the feel ofhim. His hard chest was pressed against her back. His firm bicep was pressed to her side. His forearm was solid across her belly. And his muscled leg was flexing and releasing against her outer thigh. He was controlling the horse with his legs. She knew this. She’d had a few riding lessons from her brothers, but she still felt a heat creep up to her cheeks whenever his leg flexed. She couldn’t help but imagine that leg bare of clothing and flexing as he bent over her.
Katie closed her eyes again. Wanton thoughts! She should not be thinking such things. She really shouldn’t evenknowof such things, but she did have four brothers, and they sometimes left reading material not suitable for young ladies lying about. Katie had seen drawings and caricatures, and she was not wholly ignorant, even if some of the depictions had seemed anatomically impossible.
“How do you fare?” Carlisle asked. “You’ve gone quiet all of a sudden.”
“I’m perfectly well,” she squeaked. “Admiring the flowers.” She looked about to point one or two varieties out to him, but she realized there were no flowers on this stretch of the road.
“As am I,” he said, sounding, for the first time, as though he were a bit uncomfortable. Katie realized her presence on the saddle had pushed him further back.
“Do you have enough room?” she asked. “I can try to move forward.” She wiggled a little—just a little, as she didn’t want to topple off the horse—but Carlisle’s arm across her belly tightened.
“Don’t do that.”
“I was trying to give you more room.”
“Don’t. You are fine where you are.”
“But you seemed uncomfortable. I can—”
“Lady Katherine Malfort, do not move a single muscle of that delectable derriere again.”
Katie froze, and not only because he had addressed her so formally. He’d said her backside was delectable. Her face flamed with heat when she understood his meaning. Worse, she wondered if this was his first time noticing her bottom or whether he’d looked at it before. In any case, she could not help but realize her backside was pushed right up against his nether region. At least, that was what her governess had always calledthat nebulous region on a man she was not to look at or even know existed.
She might have kissed Carlisle last night, but it seemed even worse to be touching his nether region, no matter how inadvertent.
“There’s Dunwich,” he said.
Katie wanted to laugh with relief at her first sight of the village. It was not one of the picturesque towns one saw depicted in paintings. Those villages had gently arched stone bridges over babbling brooks and thatched houses close together, their exteriors covered in blooms from flower boxes.
Dunwich was little more than a dusty street with a few shops scattered along the way. The entrance to the town was marked by a small posting house, and at the other end of the main thoroughfare was a church. She was not in London, by any stretch of the imagination. And yet she could feel her birthmark tingling as she became more aware of the people going about their daily routines and looking up at her and Carlisle with interest.
Katie tried to tell herself they were staring because she and the duke were riding together on a horse. She told herself they stared at the Duke of Carlisle, who, no doubt, hadn’t been seen in this part of the country in some time.
