“Susanna, are you hurt?” Hawksridge dismounted with a splash of his boots right in front of her.
She opened her eyes, finding concern stamped on his features. Under his wide brim hat, his eyes held worry not censure. Her shoulders sagged as her bravado drained away. Appallingly her eyes filled with tears. She’d never been happier to see anyone in her life. She blinked rapidly and hoped he wouldn’t be able to see the tears with all the rain.
“I’m unharmed. The wheel broke and the driver went to get help.”
Hawksridge removed his hat and set it on her head with a firm tug. “Why didn’t you stay in the carriage, you foolish girl?”
“He left the horses hitched! I had to take care of them.” She waved a hand to the team in the field. “It wasn’t raining when I got out.” She shrugged her shoulders knowing it was a flimsy excuse for making a poor decision. She should never have gotten out of the carriage; she knew the possible dangers for a woman alone on the side of the road.
“Let’s get you somewhere dry.” He removed his jacket and draped it across her shoulders. “It will be a wet ride. But Guilford is only maybe a half hour from here.”
She almost protested the gift of his coat when she saw the rain immediately plaster his shirt to his thick arms. But the inside of the jacket was warm and dry as she slid her arms into the sleeves. Slightly musky and smelling of cloves, it was like being wrapped in Hawksridge’s embrace. Suddenly she was lifted off her feet. In one swift motion Hawksridge set her sideways on the saddle.
When she glanced down, she found him staring at her uncovered ankle. He reached out a hand slowly, almost as though he couldn’t help himself and brushed his fingers across the exposed skin above her half boots. Despite the stinging rain Susanna felt like she had been branded as the heat of his touch raced up her calf. Perhaps he felt the zing as well because his hand recoiled.
He lifted his head and their gazes clashed and held. Susanna gulped at the fire that flashed in his eyes. But in the next moment it was gone. He tugged her skirt down to cover her ankle and mounted the horse behind her. Susanna squeaked as he lifted her like she weighed nothing and shifted them so she sat on his lap with her legs draped over one firm thigh.
“Hold on to me. The hat should shield you from the worst of the rain,” he said.
Susanna wiggled to adjust her skirts, the sodden fabric bunching up. “Wait, what about my trunk?”
“I’ll have someone come fetch it later.”
“What about the horses?” She glanced through the rain at the team, wandering farther afield.
“Forget the blasted horses. The coachman will round them up.” He nudged his horse with his knees and they moved to a walk.
The rain pelted them. She wrapped her arms around his waist and tucked her head against his broad chest, surprised to find the muscled expanse taut and hard under her cheek. Weren’t gentlemen of the ton supposed to be soft from too much brandy and lack of physical labor? Despite the rain, Hawksridge’s body felt warm and solid. Susanna slid her right hand down his abdomen, fascinated that the muscles continued across his stomach.
He sucked in a harsh breath and his hand came to lay on top of hers halting her exploration. “Susanna.” His voice rumbled a warning against her ear.
Susanna tried her best to stay still, appalled at her own lack of decorum. What was she doing? He would never have run his hands over her body unheeded. She closed her eyes glad Hawksridge couldn’t see her cheeks redden in embarrassment.
She must be terribly wanton, but the feeling of being pressed against Hawksridge was intoxicating. He reached up to slick back his wet hair causing his abdominal muscles to ripple under her hand. Susanna let out a long breath and tried to not flex her fingers in response. Dear Lord, how long until they reached Guilford?
Chapter Thirteen
Miles let outa sigh of relief as they rode into Guilford. The ride had been pure torture. Susanna made for a distracting handful, her derriere bouncing deliciously against his groin with every stride of the horse. Damnit, he had been avoiding touching her for exactly this reason. Last Christmas he had found himself under the mistletoe arguing with the brat. When his brother goaded him to kiss her, Susanna had rolled her eyes and called him prim and proper. His restraint had snapped and he’d kissed her smart mouth.
A big mistake, for the taste of her lips had burned itself into his mind and left him wanting more. And now after months of exercising self-control she was bundled in his arms, her fingertips lightly exploring his torso as though she couldn’t help herself. As though each fleeting touch didn’t sear him through his wet clinging waistcoat. He pushed his dripping hair off his forehead. They needed to get off this damn horse and inside somewhere warm and dry.
“There.” Susanna lifted her arm to point. “The Forest Stag Inn. That’s where Maddox’s troupe is staying.”
“I thought you were asleep.” He glanced over at the inn across the square. He didn’t relish taking her right to Maddox but they did need to get out of the foul weather. He nodded and guided his horse toward the place.
Susanna lifted the brim of his hat and glanced up at him. “I wasn’t sleeping. How could I?”
What did that mean? Had she been as distracted by their close proximity as he? No, Susanna did not think of him in any way except perhaps as a friend. She had never given any indication that she perceived their kiss as anything more than a party flirtation. And Susanna was ever the coquette. He had seen her charm men with her sharp wit and charismatic smile countless times. He shrugged. “Let’s get you inside.”
A groom ran out to grab his horse the minute they pulled into the yard. Miles gave the young man a coin and specific instructions on how to properly take care of Valor. On the road, he always preferred to care for his horse himself but Susanna was wet and shivering. She needed his attention more than the horse.
Grabbing her elbow, he steered her inside. A friendly broad-faced woman greeted them. “Oh dear, looks like you two got caught in the rainstorm.”
Miles held back a hard eye roll at the obvious observation and instead pasted a smile on his face. “Yes, we are in need of rooms.”
“For you”—she glanced at Susanna, dripping on the wood floors looking like a small child in his oversized jacket—“and your wife?”
Susanna’s elbow poked into his side. He cleared his throat. “Yes, my wife. Lord and Lady Hawksridge. We require two rooms, and a hot bath set out for my wife.”
