“You never praise Ashford very much, do you?”
“Would you like to hear me doing that?” I ask.
Carter approaches me dangerously, his face is in front of mine. “Not really, no.”
Then my horse tosses her head and plunges forward. She was as quiet as a grazing cow just a second ago, but now her head is down and she is bucking and twisting and I can barely keep hold of the reins. She pays no attention to my attempts to restrain her and calm her down, she just unseats me and gallops off into the woods.
Carter dismounts and helps me to my feet, but I realise that my left leg doesn’t support my weight.
“Boy, it hurts!” I complain.
“Did you get hurt?”
“I must have hit my knee in the fall. I can’t stand on my left leg.”
“You can’t certainly get back on a horse then.”
“Poppy ran away into the woods! I don’t understand what might have happened, she was so calm.”
“She wanted to catch up with the others. Listen, I’ll take you to Avon House now, where you can lie down on a comfortable sofa and put ice on your knee. How does that sound?”
Carter reaches out his arms to help me.
“I’m in your hands,” I say, letting him put me on his horse.
*
I feel really pampered. Carter picked me up and took me to the private parlour, where he laid me on a beautiful sofa with plenty of cushions. He also gave me some ice for my knee and champagne to relieve the pain.
“Stay here, rest and drink to your health; I will take my horse back to the stables. I’ll be back soon.”
So saying, he gives me a quick kiss that leaves no doubt.
He kissed me! It lasted a second, but he did kiss me on the lips with confidence, as if it were totally intentional. He likes me! I was right!
I remain with a hand on my lips for a while to recall the feeling of his lips pressing on mine.
A voice in my head is listing all the reasons why Carter is the number one candidate to become my Prince Charming: he’s handsome, clever, he’s a gentleman, he’s gallant, he puts me at ease, he’s witty… he’s just perfect.
How wicked, though! He left me here torturing myself with my imagination.
Anyway, his ‘soon’ is getting a bit too long. It’s been almost an hour since he left.
Limping with the ice in one hand, I drag myself around Avon House, which seems to be totally deserted, looking for Carter.
Please, don’t let him be on the first floor, I can’t face the stairs!
I hop in front of a few closed doors, until I hear some voices coming from behind one of them.
I can distinguish young male voices, and one sounds like Carter’s. They’re laughing heartily. I bend to look through the keyhole and make sure it’s him; in fact, it is. I can see him sitting with his back to the door, but I recognise his messy golden hair. I don’t know the other men who are sitting around a table with him, but I can see that each of them is holding a fan of cards.
Why didn’t he come back to me?
I would like to go in but the umpteenth burst of laughter stops me. I decide to listen to the conversation, to understand what makes them laugh.
Carter is the first one to speak: “… I feel almost sorry for Parker! He’s so attached to his title that he sees nothing else around him.”
“Then he’s very lucky to have someone who looks after his stuff for him, eh, Carter?”
