Lionel shot his friend a pointed look. “I need to get my wife home.”
“Well then,” Duncan replied, raising an amused eyebrow, “do not let me stop you.”
Lionel pressed on with Amelia, helping her into the waiting carriage before realizing that Caroline and Rebecca were still inside. He cursed under his breath, offering out his hand.
“We shall have to ride,” he said.
Amelia gasped. “Ride?”
“Yes. At once.”
“But… it is so cold, and as you keep telling me, I will not be appropriately attired,” she protested.
He clenched his jaw. “I shall ensure that you stay warm, but you will be just as cold if I leave you here in the carriage while I go and get my mother and sister. And they will argue about it for an age, meaning you get even colder as you wait.”
She hesitated, and Lionel had a feeling she was about to refuse outright, so it was a pleasant surprise when she took his hand and allowed him to lead her to the stables.
Although, as he helped her up into the saddle and climbed up behind her, he began to wonder if it would have been better to fetch his mother and sister instead.
Nothing good could come of being so close to the woman who was, quite against his will, beginning to enchant him.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Amelia had never in her life been permitted to ride a horse, though she had often watched in envy as her brother and father rode out to this place or that place. It had always looked so liberating, but the truth was notquitewhat she had imagined.
“Am I supposed to feel like I am slipping?” she asked, her heart in her throat, as the horse plodded along darkened country roads.
“No, you are not,” Lionel replied behind her. “You are supposed to grip with your… legs. It will keep you in place.”
Amelia tried to follow his instruction, clamping her legs against the sides of the sturdy horse, but it was not long before the muscles began to burn and ache. In addition, her backside had gone numb and though she wore two blankets as cloaks, as well as Lionel’s tailcoat, the cold was beginning to creep into her bones.
“I cannot do it, Lionel,” she urged, terrified of falling off and hitting the ground.
He made a quiet, grumbling noise and, a moment later, his arm slipped around her waist, pulling her to him. His broad shoulders curved around her, as if to block the cold and the fear with his body.
Oh goodness…
Swallowing thickly, unaccustomed to being held like that, it took her a few minutes to be able to relax into the feeling. As she did, she leaned back into him, marveling at the strength of his arms around her, and the safety that blanketed her.
A moment ago, the shadows of the countryside roads had terrified her, illuminated only by the silvery moonlight, but it was like Lionel had lifted that fear from her shoulders. His embrace was an unspoken sentiment that he would protect her from any danger that approached, and she believed it entirely.
I do not know why we had to leave so recklessly, though…
She closed her eyes and pictured his intense gaze and the light brush of his fingertips against her arm, her shoulder, her neck. She pictured him cradling her cheek with his calloused palm, stroking her cheek, and how her heart had leaped as he had bent his head closer.
Of course, it would have been scandalous if he had kissed her in the middle of a ballroom where everyone could see, but that did not mean she had not wanted him to. For a moment, she had really thought he was going to kiss her.
“Because if we do not, I shall forget my manners and start fighting every single man who is staring at you as if they mean to steal my bride away.”Her breath caught as she remembered those words, as confusing as they were exciting. Indeed, they were not the words of someone who merely desired a marriage of convenience.
“Is the Duke of Thornhill married?” she asked, opening her eyes again.
Lionel’s arm tightened around her waist. Possessive, almost. “He is not. It would take a courageous, and perhaps foolish, woman to even consider being his Duchess.”
“I only ask because we might have enquired about sewing materials,” she said, enjoying the security of his arm around her. “I am excellent with a needle and thread; I could have repaired the gown there and then.”
She sensed him bristle. “And you did not think to mention this sooner?”
“You did not give me time,” she replied, more shyly. The last thing she wanted was to be scolded by him now.
