“My bottom. And my hip. Is Sheba all right?”
The groom pounded up, hurrying to the mare. “I’ll see to ’er, my lady.”
Tristan kept his attention on Georgiana. “You’ll be lucky if you didn’t crack your tailbone.”
She gasped again. “Fix my dress. For heaven’s sake, it’s practically up to my neck.”
Stifling a grin of relief, he reached across her and flipped her riding gown back down past her knees. “Can you sit up straight?”
She flinched, but did so. “Yes.”
“And your legs, and arms? Bend them. Make fists.”
“I’m all right. Is Sheba hurt? John?”
“Just tangled in the reins, Lady Georgie. My lord, I’d be grateful for a hand with her.”
His heartbeat beginning to return to normal, Tristan kept his hand on Georgiana’s shoulder. He didn’t want to let go of her. “Just a moment. Georgiana, if you get up from this spot before I tell you to, I will make it my business to—”
“I understand. I’ll stay right here.”
Tristan stood, brushing dirt from his knees, then lay across Sheba’s neck to hold her steady so John could cut the tangled reins. That done, the mare plunged to her feet and stomped, shaking her head. He grabbed her bridle to keep her from taking off, and crouched to examine the foreleg that had rolled on the stone.
Georgiana sat where he’d left her, her sleeve ripped and hair falling across her face. Dare turned the mare back over to John, then helped Georgie to her feet.
“She’s got a strained knee,” he said, “but nothing’s broken. Both of you were damned lucky.”
Limping, Georgiana made her way over to Sheba and rubbed the mare’s nose. “I’m sorry, my sweet one.”
She stumbled, wincing, and Tristan caught her arm. “I’m taking you home,” he stated, and turned to the groom. “Follow with Sheba.”
“I am not leaving my horse.”
“You can’t ride her, and you’re not walking all the way back. John will walk her home. It’ll be good for her knee, anyway.”
“But—”
“For once, you’re going to do as I say. John, will you hand Lady Georgiana up?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Reluctantly releasing her again, Tristan swung back up onto Charlemagne. Leaning down, he lifted Georgiana under her arms as John boosted her from below. In a moment she was seated across his legs, one arm around his neck for balance. Things were looking up, after all.
She kept her gaze trained over his shoulder, watching her horse, until they entered the trees. “That was so stupid,” she muttered. “I should have known better.”
“I bring out the worst in you, Georgie. It’s not your fault.”
With a sigh, she leaned her head against his shoulder. “Thank you.”
He resisted the urge to lower his face to her hair. “You scared me, chit.”
She looked up at him. “Did I?”
Hardly daring to breathe, he bent down a little and kissed her. “I’m sorry you hurt your bottom, my lady. I’ll rub it for you, if you like.”
“Stop it,” she protested, squirming. “Someone will see.”
“No one’s awake but the milkmaids.”
