“I was thinking about it on the ride over. There’s something very… frustrating about being at the mercy of the horse’s movements and not being able to steer properly. It’s a bit humiliating to be honest.”
Robert leaned forward, intrigued. “I once heard about a rather unconventional design,” he said, swirling his spoon lazily. “A skirt that, with the clever use of hidden buttons, transforms into trousers. Looks modest enough on first glance but underneath, absolute freedom.”
She gasped. “You’re joking.”
“Would I lie about such a noble invention?”
“That’s… brilliant!” she said, her eyes shining. “And why have I never heard of such a thing before?”
“Likely because it would terrify half the aristocracy,” he replied dryly. “Imagine the scandal: women wearing trousers.”
“Imagine the convenience,” she shot back.
He chuckled and then, more sincerely added. “If that’s something you’d like, I’ll see what can be done. I’m sure someone in town could fashion you a few riding habits like that. Discreetly, of course.”
She looked at him for a moment, touched. “Thank you.”
He waved it off with a faint smile, but her gaze lingered just a little too long, just enough to make him feel it everywhere. Then she returned to her soup, taking another bite with a soft hum of appreciation.
Robert sat back, with his spoon forgotten, more satisfied in that moment than he had been in years. The rain still tapped against the windowpanes, the fire still crackled, but he only sawher,laughing in the firelight, daring to be free, surprising him again and again.
He watched as her gaze flicked to the lively crowd around them, the unaware people, uninterested in who they were, and then back to him. Her lips parted, hesitating before she finally spoke.
“I’ve never felt this free,” she confessed softly. “No one watching, no expectations, no titles. Just… me.” She bit her lower lip gently, her teeth catching on the pink curve in a way that made Robert’s pulse hammer in his ears. “I don’t want it to end. Not yet.”
The way she looked at him did something to him.
Desire pulled tight across his chest, heat rising low and slow in his stomach. He wanted her. God, he wanted her. To kiss her, to pull her into his arms, to bury his hands in her still-damp hair and taste every word she’d just said. But he held himself in check, barely.
He leaned in with his elbow on the table. “Do you really want that?” he asked.
She nodded once, quickly, following it with the barest flicker of a smile at the corners of her mouth.
He exhaled slowly, offering her a smile that was both reassuring and unmistakably something more. “Then tonight,” he said, his voice a mere murmur between them, “is all about fulfilling your wishes.”
Her eyes widened slightly, and he saw it, that spark. Not surprise, not fear but anticipation.
He stood and offered her his hand.
“Come,” he urged. “Let’s see where your freedom takes us next.”
Chapter Nineteen
It was chaotic and utterly foreign.
She adored it.
The tavern door creaked open, and Evelyn stepped inside, her hand still warm in Robert’s. The scent of roasted meat and woodsmoke enveloped her immediately, mingling with the distant tang of ale and the crisp freshness of the rain still clinging to their clothes. Her eyes widened as she took it all in: the long wooden tables crowded with lively patrons, tankards raised in cheer, laughter bursting in every corner, and in one area, musicians beginning to tune their instruments with easy camaraderie.
A wide smile bloomed on her lips, unfiltered and bright, and when she turned to glance at Robert, he gave her hand a light tug and guided her to a corner table.
“Stay here,” he urged. “I’ll get us drinks.”
Evelyn nodded, still drinking in the scene. Her fingers trailed along the worn wood of the table, the imperfections telling a hundred stories of evenings spent just like this. When Robert returned, two mugs in hand, the music had begun: a fiddle, a flute, and a tambourine blending into a light-hearted country reel that made the floor practically bounce underfoot.
A handful of patrons had already sprung to their feet, forming messy lines and circles, clapping along with the beat. The steps were fast, joyous, and completely unfamiliar to her. Evelyn’s eyes sparkled with wonder. She couldn’t look away.
“It looks like such fun,” she murmured.
