Georgiana settled back again. “What are you doing out here, anyway? Heaven knows you’re not a milkmaid.”
“I felt like taking the morning air.”
“At the Ladies’ Mile.”
“Yes.”
“You were looking for me, weren’t you?”
“I like seeing you in the morning. It doesn’t happen as often as I would wish.”
She shifted sideways, her warm, lithe body against his making it very difficult to concentrate. With almost no one in the park, any secluded glade would give them all the privacy they would need.
“Ouch,” she muttered, shifting again.
Shaking himself out of his lust, he tugged her a little closer against his chest, taking more of her weight on his shoulders. “When we get you home, take a long, hot bath. As long and as hot as you can stand it.”
“So you’re an expert in horse-related injuries?” she asked, her voice softer.
“I’ve been thrown a few times myself.”
Her free hand touched his jacket just below his shoulder, where the scar was. “I remember.” Slowly her hand traveled up along his face and tangled into his hair. “You looked so worried,” she murmured, and pulled his face down to kiss him.
She must have been delirious. He hadn’t checked her for head injuries. Even so, Tristan couldn’t resist kissing her back, uttering a soft moan as her tongue flicked along his teeth. Charlemagne came to a halt, swinging his head around to look at them as Tristan relaxed the reins and enfolded Georgiana in his arms, deepening the embrace of their mouths.
“My lord, is Lady Georgiana all right?”
His spine stiffened, and he whipped his head around as John came up behind them, Sheba in tow. “Yes, she’s fine now. She lost consciousness for a moment, and I was worried she’d stopped breathing.”
Georgiana buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.
The groom looked alarmed. “Should I ride ahead for help?”
“Yes, I think you should. I’ll take Sheba.”
“That isn’t necess—” Georgie began.
“Be quiet,” he murmured, keeping her face close to his chest. The groom handed over Sheba’s cut reins and pounded off in the direction of Hawthorne House.
“He’ll frighten my aunt half to death,” Georgiana complained as he released her.
“Yes, but I will look very impressive, my dear.”
She chuckled again. Perhaps her brains were addled. He urged Charlemagne into a walk again, Sheba limping behind them.
“Is she really all right? I feel like such an idiot.”
“Don’t. I promise I’ll take a look at her again when we get back, and make up a compress. She’s not complaining, though, and it doesn’t look badly swollen. She’ll be fine, my love.”
“I hope so.”
“I’m more concerned about you. Did you know your elbow is bleeding?”
She looked down. “No, I didn’t. Oh, you’ve blood all over your jacket. I’m sorr—”
“Stop that, Georgiana. I urged you into a race, and you fell. Hush and kiss me again.”
To his surprise, she did so. By the time he lifted his head to take a breath, he was ready to begin looking for a secluded glade. It didn’t help that she’d noticed his discomfiture and was wriggling again.
