“And yew’ll be pleased to ride with him?”
Another long pause. “Yes.”
The coachman nodded, mumbled something about eight minutes lost, then jumped back on his perch and whipped at the four mismatched horses.
Tom did not approach her. He stood by his horse, rubbing the animal’s face, and watched her glance about.
“I lost my shoes.”
He nodded. She always did.
Instead of looking for them, she tucked her hair behind her ear and approached him in the massive chamois coat. She seemed uncertain, a little afraid. Of Tom? Or something else?
“Here.” He took her waist and swung her up. “I’ll walk if ye want. We’re not a far piece from Sunderlin Downs.”
“No. We shall be much faster if you ride.”
He mounted behind her. He was too conscious of everything—his arms sliding around her, her sleeves brushing his, the smell of her hair in his face. He gave a quietcluck, cluckwith his tongue, and the horse trotted forward.
They rode in silence.
Birds tweeted a bonnie morning song, their tune bouncing from treetop to treetop across the countryside. The fog had lifted. The yellow-green grass shimmered with dew, and the chilled air settled in his lungs. He tried not to hold his breath.
Or speak first.
Or ask her all the things he had to clench his jaw to keep back.
“I instructed the coachman to deliver Lord Cunningham to the doctor’s office. He will be gone still, of course, but I have heard mention of a most capable nurse.”
“Is he injured badly?”
“I believe it is only his ankle.”
“And you?”
“I am unharmed.”
He knew the tone well enough to know something was amiss, but he would not press. He’d done that enough.
“Lord Cunningham kissed me.” She grabbed the horse’s mane in a white-knuckled grip. “You kissed me.”
Heat fired beneath his cheeks.
“And both times, I was …” Her breathing came faster. “I was afraid. Why?”
Dread cropped through him. He had never imagined being the one to … explain what had happened that night in the alley. If she had forgotten, had he any right to remind her?
“Mr. McGwen.”
“I think this is not the time to speak of it.”
“Now is very much the time.” Her back stiffened. “I want to know.”
CHAPTER 12
For a long time, he told her nothing. Had it been Lord Cunningham, she would have used a piteous voice and coaxed him into telling her anything.
Tom McGwen was different.
