“Not this time,” she muttered, reluctantly shifting herself away from him.
He slid sideways, shoving the trellis up so they could crawl out from under its weight. And since he was such a proper gentleman, he, of course, allowed Nia to slip out first.
But he wasn’t far behind her.
If only the darned ringing would subside. After just a few steps, she stumbled and the baron was there to steady her.
“Let me go!” She pulled on her arm.
His touch was gentle, and rather than attempt to restrain her, his hand loosened.
“My horse is this way.” His palm trailed down her arm. When he entwined his fingers with hers, he didn’t attempt to tug her toward her father’s house, but in the opposite direction. When Nia stared at him curiously, he added, “Unless you’d prefer to wait for your father to find you here.”
“No!”
That was the absolute last thing she wanted. She hesitated a second, and then, pressing her palm into his, allowed Lord Westcott—the man who’d betrayed her once already today—to drag her toward the road. And waiting there was the largest horse she’d ever seen, tail waving gently, restrained by leather reins loosely looped around the post.
“You do ride, don’t you?” The baron slipped the reins free as he flashed her an unexpected grin.
“Yes, but—” Before she finished, he’d grasped her by the waist, lifting her as though she weighed nothing, and then plunked her sideways in front of the saddle. Nia felt like she was a hundred feet off the ground, but for some reason, she wasn’t afraid.
The horse didn’t so much as skitter when, with an almost unnatural agility, Lord Westcott placed his left foot into the stirrup and swung himself up behind her.
“Hold on,” he said, his arms going around her.
“Hold on to what?” she asked.
“Me.” He leaned his body into hers, and the horse surged forward. Gradually gaining speed with each set of steps, the magnificent mount wasted no time in carrying them both away from Crossings’ Place.
Away from her father.
She had no idea where Lord Westcott would take her or why he was helping her, let alone how he’d come to be in the ideal spot to catch her, and yet, Nia breathed a sigh of relief.
Because for the second time that day, she’d managed to escape her own wedding ceremony, leaving the Duke of Dewberry, once again, without a bride.
Where to Now?
Jasper urged Bard into a gallop and, with a subtle flick of the reins, into a run. In no time at all the horse’s long legs had carried him and Lady Gardenia far enough away that Jasper was fairly certain they hadn’t been followed.
A stunning turn of events, really.
And only after the horse had settled into a brisk walk did Jasper allow himself to enjoy the sensation of Lady Gardenia’s very feminine form leaning into him. The more civilized side of him recognized that this wasn’t the time for those sorts of thoughts, but with her bum nestled firmly between his thighs, her face tucked beneath his chin, and her delicate hand clinging to his lapels, he could hardly ignore her.
They entered a wooded trail in the park, and in an admirable attempt to recapture propriety, she shifted slightly and leaned toward Bard’s head, rather than Jasper’s chest.
And then she broke the silence.
"I don't understand you.” She didn’t sound happy about it, either.
Jasper made a humming sound without answering.
If he were to be completely honest with himself, Jasper didn't wholly understand himself, either.
He inhaled, and along with the scent of leaves and brush and grass, he got a whiff of her uniquely feminine scent. It was subtle and fresh. Not quite lavender, nor was it roses, and restrained just enough to exude a sense of mystery.
His cock stirred, and he partly acknowledged that he might well be partially motivated by the lady herself.
Despite all the reasons he shouldn’t be.
