“A little of your own medicine, perhaps?” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “You sought to trick me. Was it because you didn’t trust me?”
She shrugged off his hands. “No trickery, my lord. I was dressed this way when I found you if you recall. When we were forced to spend the night in the hut, I needed to keep up the pretense.”
“So, it was a matter of trust. You thought I would ravage you if I knew you to be a woman? I can understand that. But not to continue the ruse fearing I would expose you. That has hurt my feelings.”
“Then I apologize.” Hetty was sure an arrogant man like him would get over it.
He widened his eyes. “But why dress like that?”
She couldn’t explain her restlessness to him, how hard it was to be a woman and want the freedom of a man. She hung up the curry brush. “I prefer to ride astride.”
He cocked a brow. “You like a strong beast moving beneath you?”
“As I prefer to ride alone, it’s safer.” He made it sound as if she’d gained some sort of indecent enjoyment from the exercise. Her face heated. She had known that riding astride was unfeminine, but it had never bothered her before this. It was an excellent way to compose her poems.
“Even so, it is risky. You like risk?”
“There is not much risk in Digswell, my lord.” Hetty drew herself up. “I can handle myself well, perhaps not as well as a man, but Simon is an amateur boxer and taught me a few moves.”
“I look forward to meeting this Simon.” His gaze flicked over her. What was he thinking? She quivered under his scrutiny.
“I don’t see why you should meet,” Hetty said. “The matter is at an end.”
“Is it? We spent the night in the same bed,” he said bluntly.
The indecency of it made her want to block her ears. “I remember it quite well. You have no need to remind me,” she murmured. “Although it sounds a good deal worse than it was.”
His dark brows slammed together. “While I was half-conscious, I told you all my secrets, confound it!”
So, that was what worried him. Hetty’s agitated breath eased a little. “You have nothing to fear from me. I am not about to mention it.”
“I spoke to you as one man to another.Zut!” He raked his hands through his hair. “Now you’ve got me cursing!”
“I’ve heard far worse from your lips,” she said with a wry smile.
“You deserved to,” he said coolly. He appeared to rein in his temper and leaned against a post to shred a piece of straw.
“Really, your confessions were hardly scandalous,” Hetty fibbed. She began to enjoy her new sense of power. “The French are so volatile compared to the English. You place too much importance on something of little consequence.”
“You have a poor opinion of us it seems.” His voice sounded dangerously honeyed as he shoved away from the post and stepped closer.
Hetty stifled a nervous giggle. She feared she had gone too far. She had provoked him. While she didn’t fear he’d hurt her, she did fear he’d take liberties. She wasn’t entirely sure she disliked the idea as he advanced on her. Her spine came up against the wall of the stall.
“We should go to the house,” she said, unsteadily. “My father will be wondering where I’ve got to.”
He towered over her. “And how he will enjoy your mode of dress.” He offered her his arm. “Allow me to escort you.”
He believed he had the upper hand, curse him. Hetty gulped down her alarm and tried to appeal to his better nature. She was reasonably confident he had one. It was just she, most probably, who brought out the worst in him. “Please… Lord Fortescue, allow me to go and change my clothes.” She edged around him, but his hand on her arm stopped her.
He gestured at her breeches. “Is it right that you should do this behind your papa’s back?”
“No. And I shall tell him. You will keep my riding The General a secret?”
His eyes caressed her. “What will you give me in exchange?”
Alarmed, with a gasp she pulled her arm free. “There is nothing I can give you.”
His gaze settled on her mouth. “Oh yes, there is much you can give me. But I am not greedy.”
