He puffed out a breath. “No, I suppose I did not.” He paused. “In truth, I should apologize for my behavior back there.”
Amelia resisted the urge to turn around in the saddle to look at him, though the sudden softness in his voice warmed her from the inside out. No man had ever apologized to her before, not even when they were wrong, yet Lionel seemed to have no difficulty in accepting responsibility. It might have been silly, but she found that rather attractive.
“There might come a day when you feel the need to seek out… companionship,” he continued, his tone becoming gruffer with every word. “I will not deny you that, but Iwouldask you to be discreet and I would ask you to wait a while.”
Amelia’s heart deflated, for she had just begun to feel like things were changing between them, that he was showing a more romantic interest in her than had been promised. And she, in turn, would have been lying if she had said that she was not starting to fall for her husband, and had hoped that he was beginning to feel the same.
But now you speak of others?She did not know whether to be furious or dismayed.
“That is not what I want,” she said quietly.
“Your feelings on the matter might change,” he insisted. “You cannot say now how you might think later.”
Amelia shifted in his arms, unable to breathe for a moment. “Then, why are we here? Why are we riding away from a ball?” She hesitated. “Why would you profess that you do not want anyone else to look at me if you are now suggesting that Ishouldallow it?”
The words poured out of her in a torrent, surprising her with their vehemence. Perhaps it was because she could not see him that she could be so bold, or perhaps he had unleashed more freedom and confidence in her than he had realized, giving her the ability to speak her mind for once.
“Because they were unsavory,” he replied curtly. “Because they were looking at you for the wrong reasons and, most importantly, because it would have made it obvious that our marriage is one of convenience.”
“Youtoldsociety that is what you wanted,” she argued, twisting around in the saddle. “It is no great secret. I heard of that the night I came to you. There is no need for pretense—everyone knows!”
And I hate that it might be all there ever can be between us,she wanted to add, as she gazed fiercely up at him. She did not care that it hurt her neck to do so; she wanted him to see her anguish and to see his expression in return, in the hope of seeing some uncertainty, some true feeling upon his face.
“What would you like me to say?” he asked, staring back at her. “I cannot give you a marriage of love. I was clear about that.”
Amelia faltered. “I… do not know what I want you to say.”
His beautiful green eyes warmed a little as he gazed at her, his arm withdrawing from her waist. She lamented its absence, though it was short lived as he brought his hand to her face, cupping her cheek as he had done before. His gaze flitted from her eyes to her lips and as the horse swayed from side to side, he dipped his head ever so slightly.
Amelia did not move, worried that she might spook him if she did. Surely, this time, he was going to kiss her. Surely, everything he was saying was just what he thought he should say, given the rules and provisos he had set for their marriage.
He bent his head even closer, and the air around them seemed to still—the thick silence like that of a winter snowfall. She held her breath, giddy with anticipation, certain that this would be a moment far greater than any of the romances she had ever read.
He did not mean it. He is fighting himself.That was her hope, at least, as she held his gaze and waited for him to close that tortuous gap, kissing her at last.
When he was but a breath away, he whispered, “You do not understand, Amelia.” He paused. “I just do not want you to be unhappy.”
“Unhappy?” she replied breathlessly. “I am not discontent in the slightest.”
His brow furrowed. “Not now, but… you will be. It is not something I can change, so do not ask it of me.” He rested his forehead against hers for half a second, before pulling back. “Enjoy your life as Countess of Westyork. Enjoy it however you see fit.”
“And what if that includes being near to you?” she asked boldly, knowing she would regret it if she did not.
His face contorted as if he was in some pain, his breaths harsh as he moved even closer, holding her tighter to him with his other arm. He was a conundrum, and no mistake, but she was ever more certain that he was about to kiss her, that he was about to reveal truer feelings with that kiss.
His lips were about to brush hers when his leg suddenly jerked, and a sharp hiss whispered through his clenched teeth.
The horse clearly did not like the sound and the abrupt, accidental kick of his foot, as it stumbled and began to walk backward, prancing in fear. It tossed its head and nickered nervously, its anxiety quickly growing until it was trying to kick out, no longer content to have riders.
“Blast it!” Lionel immediately switched arms, holding her tightly as the horse bucked and danced beneath them.
He maneuvered the reins this way and that, shortening them to get control of the horse’s head as he murmured soothing sounds. Meanwhile, all Amelia could do was pray that they would not be thrown from the horse altogether.
But Lionel proved to be a skilled horseman, even with one arm occupied, and it was not long before the horse’s jolting movements began to calm.
“Hush now,” Lionel urged. “Easy now.”
The horse tossed its head a few more times, snorting its protest, uncertain of whether or not there was still something to be concerned about. A short while later, the creature’s flanks rippled, the ears flicking back and forth, but it seemed to realize that there was no danger, settling back into a slow walk.
