He might not know Miss Fox, but he thought he rather liked her. A quick glance confirmed Isabel shared his opinion of the woman. It shouldn’t matter, but, strangely, it did.
Lucy, Hugh, and Miss Radclyffe trooped into the open area. “We’ve seen it all,” Lucy said with the authority of confident youth.
Miss Radclyffe pointed toward the sea. “Oh, just look at that,” she said to no one in particular.
“What is it?” Hugh asked, all attentiveness. The lad was especially alert to Miss Radclyffe, who didn’t seem to notice him in the least.
“The clouds have cleared on the horizon, and one can just make out the moonrise.”
As everyone squinted into the distance, Percy stole a glance at Isabel. He had a rather difficult time keeping his eyes off her. Her gaze lifted and met his. He saw there a mixture of emotions. Vulnerability, query, and the unexpected, too: hunger of the unrequited variety that he’d had ample experience suppressing. His blood had no choice but to rush faster in his veins.
He tore his eyes away because he must. “We need to return before the sun sets. No use risking the horses.”
Sunset wasn’t for another few hours, but he needed the excuse to put some distance between himself and this hunger. Using his suggestion as an excuse to break free of the adults, Lucy, Hugh, and Miss Radclyffe sped ahead. Isabel and Miss Fox paired up, and Percy trailed behind.
Unable to avert his gaze, Percy studied the movement of Isabel. Where Miss Fox strode with confidence in her every pithy observation, Isabel walked with a bearing understated and graceful, content to listen to her companion.
Miss Fox stopped and pointed toward a patch of tile work that signaled what was once an entrance. “I believe this mosaic to be Roman.” She twisted around to address Percy. “You should have an expert inspect it.”
Even with its faded reds and blacks, the mosaic was impressive. He should be grateful to Miss Fox for pointing out its importance. But, in truth, he didn’t give a fig about it, not with Isabel so near. All he had to do was reach out to touch her, tofeelher.
Cold, ancient stones couldn’t compare to her warm, vibrant flesh.
She’d sparked him alight with her hot words.
Outside, they found Lucy, Hugh, and Miss Radclyffe already mounted and on their journey back to Gardencourt. Miss Fox glanced back and forth between Percy and Isabel and cleared her throat. “I shall accompany the youth as chaperone and leave you newlyweds to whatever it is newlyweds—” She stopped, looking as if she’d swallowed a toad. “Do,” she finished on a croak. Her cheeks blushed bright pink.
Although he wasn’t much of one, Percy was still too much of a gentleman to acknowledge Miss Fox’s unintended double entendre, even as an amused snort begged for release.
“I shall just,” Miss Fox began and rushed to her mare before she could finish. She was galloping off in a matter of seconds. Percy had never witnessed anyone mount a horse so fast.
Percy took the reins of the remaining two horses from the groom. “I have it from here, Watkins.”
Watkins nodded. “Milord.”
Now Percy was truly alone with Isabel. That his blood didn’t sing through his veins at the prospect. Even to be near her was to feel alive in his body in a way he hadn’t in years, if ever.
A question occurred to him. “You rode out here on your own mount?”
Her eyes shifted to her feet, as if she suddenly found her boots a source of fascination. “I, um, yes.”
“What an equestrian marvel you are, Lady Percival.” He couldn’t resist the impulse to tease. The urge of a boy of ten years with the girl of his infatuation. “Only two days ago, you couldn’t mount.”
Now it was Isabel who was looking rather frog-like. “I can ride.”
He smirked as he reached out to help her mount. It was only when his fingers squeezed her slender hand for support that it hit him: this was the hand he’d kissed last night. Not chastely on the back, but intimately on thepalm.
She cleared her throat. “I believe you need to boost me into the saddle.”
“Right.”
With a greater reluctance than he would have preferred, he released her hand and laced his fingers together to assist her. Settled onto the saddle, she fiddled with her dress, bonnet, and gloves as he mounted his stallion, a glorious creature that couldn’t be fewer than fifteen hands high.
Side by side, they rode toward Gardencourt, the muted thud of the horses’ hooves eating away the distance with ease. In the periphery of his vision, he couldn’t help noticing that her body had the instinctive understanding of not only how to sit a horse, but of how to take it in stride. “You ride quite naturally.”
He was prying, and she shot him a glance that told him so. “In Madrid, we knew a stable lad who had a tendre for Eva.” She smiled at the memory. “Then he was called off to—”War, she didn’t finish. She recovered herself. “Riding is the only activity where I’ve been able to best Eva.” A smile played about her mouth. “I beat her in every race.”
Percy wanted to encourage that spring bud of a smile into full bloom. “So, I’m dealing with an undefeated rider?”
