The stable boy grinned. “You’re welcome, sir.”
Anthony rode off to the Hyde Park Gate, daring a glance through the Stanhope Gate in the event he might be able to see his brother and Dahlia’s sister. They were apparently too far into the park, though, so he urged his horse into a run to the south.
When he turned his mount into the Hyde Park Corner gate and passed under the Triumphal Arch, he wondered at how empty the park seemed. The earlier rain must have kept midday riders from their mounts, for when he arrived at the King’s Private Road, he found it almost empty of riders.
Almost, because there were two riders halfway down the road. Even from his vantage, he could see Lady Dahlia. A caramel bay sporting white stockings, Dahlia’s mount exhibited a gait in keeping with his history as a race horse. Dressed in a sapphire blue riding habit and a rather tall hat decorated with peacock feathers, Dahlia looked like a perfect countess. Her posture was straight, her hold on the reins assured.
Next to her was apparently the Norwick House groom. He was riding a calm black mare, which seemed odd for this time of the year. Perhaps the horse was already carrying a foal.
Anthony kept his own mount mostly reined in, preventing the Irish walker from more than a fast trot, even though it wanted to join his brethren. He was nearly within shouting distance on the northern leg of the King’s Private Road when something changed up ahead. The race horse increased his speed from a walk to a trot to a full run.
Meanwhile, the groom kept his mount to a trot.
Alarmed, Anthony dug his heels into his horse, which sent the Irish walker into a run. Although Dahlia’s horse had a decided lead on him, Anthony made sure to move to the inside curve of the road, hoping he could gain distance on the racer as it went around the sharp turn to the left.
He glanced over at Dahlia, sure her eyes were wide with fear when she dared a glance back. He spurred his mount, heartened when the walker increased his speed in an attempt to come alongside the Thoroughbred.
Dahlia’s mount ran on the outer most lane of the curve, which allowed Anthony to urge his mount so it was slightly ahead of Dahlia’s as they came around the last of the curve. He angled his mount so the two horses were eventually running alongside one another.
“I’ve got you!” he called out.
Dahlia glanced over at him, apparently recognizing him for the first time.
“What?”
When the two horses were nose to nose, he reached over and captured Dahlia around her waist.
Sensing he was about to be run off the road, the race horse slowed and Anthony was able to pull Dahlia off her horse and onto his walker, her riding habit’s mud-splattered skirts billowing so they wrapped around his back.
“I’ve got you!” he repeated, his pulse pounding in his ears. He pulled back on the reins with his left hand as he pulled her closer to him with his right arm around her waist. The walker finally slowed to a trot and Anthony took a breath for the first time in several seconds.
“Are you all right?” he asked between labored breaths.
“Breckinridge?” Dahlia asked in disbelief. “Whatever do you think you’redoing?”
“Saving you,” he replied as he pulled the Irish walker to a halt. “Are you hurt?”
Dahlia scoffed. “I’m quite fine, no thanks to you,” she replied, her tone indignant. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked again, ceasing her struggles. If Anthony released her, she would end up falling to the muddied track below.
Anthony lowered her until her feet were on the ground, and then he quickly dismounted. He pulled her into an embrace. “I’ve never been so worried in my entire life,” he said, catching a whiff of her perfume and then inhaling deeply. He kissed her cheek and then her forehead. He tightened his hold on her even as she struggled in his arms.
When he let go, she pushed back on his shoulders and nearly tripped on the skirts of her riding habit as she stepped backward. “Letgoof me,” she demanded. A gloved hand sailed through the air and impacted his cheek.
“Davy,” he breathed, confused by her reaction. He lifted a gloved hand to his cheek, his expression displaying his confusion.
She straightened and regarded him a moment as she caught her breath. Then she glanced around, showing relief when she saw that the groom had Vindication’s reins in hand. “I was having the ride of my life,” she said on a sigh, “untilyoucame along.” She took a deep breath and then furrowed her dark brows. “What ever are you doing in London?”
Anthony blinked. “Saving you, I thought,” he replied in confusion.
“Oh, Breckinridge. I didn’t need saving,” she said on a sigh.
“I’m so sorry,” he replied, not sure what else to say. “You were going so fast—”
“Well, heisa race horse,” Dahlia said as she placed her hands on her hips. “But perfect for riding. I never once felt as if I would be unseated.”
Anthony winced at both her words as well as her stance. For some reason, her reaction had his body responding in a most unexpected manner. His cock suddenly hardened, and he knew his riding coat wasn’t up to the task of hiding it. “You were glorious,” he said, stepping towards her.
“What?”
