Then, he realized there were no flashes of lightning to guide him.
The storm had been dying out when he’d made his way to her chamber, the flashes of light infrequent, but enough to guide his educated guess about where the lady’s suite might be.
“That little villain,” Dorian grumbled, realizing Archie hadn’t been frightened by the storm at all, and that the lad was far more cunning than Dorian had anticipated. The storm had died out, the thunder and lightning along with it. He hadn’t needed to seek out his mother’s comfort for any other reason than he’d suspected she and Dorian were becoming too close.
He hadn’t thought he’d need to overcome the obstacle of a small boy, but he would do whatever it took to achieve his goal.
Chapter Nine
Dorian’s mood wasnot improved the next morning when he stomped down the stairs and made straight for the study, ordering some strong tea from a passing footman.
With the tea came the correspondence deemed too important to wait until he returned from Coylton Castle.
Despite his past neglect of his duties and his debauchery, he’d become very devoted to his estates and holdings. Much like Amelia did, he insisted upon close contact with his solicitors and stewards. It gave him a sense of control and order after spending years as a subject of derision and gossip, of floundering when he thought he’d already found his way.
As he skimmed a missive, the image of him and Amelia sharing a large, but cozy, study, each with their own desks, working in comfortable, companionable silence, came unbidden to his mind. It was a decidedly pleasant musing, muddying his mind with distraction on numerous levels.
Amelia, completing her work alongside him.
Amelia, smiling at him over a stack of accounts.
Amelia, sighing in pleasure as he rubbed the stiffness from her neck.
Amelia, bent over her desk, her skirts thrown up past her hips as he—
There was no use trying to concentrate.
He shoved his correspondence to the side, gulped down the last of his searing tea, and stormed from the study. He caught the grooms off guard as he stormed into the stables earlier than they’d anticipated. He needed to ride long and hard, exhausting himself in both mind and body, to drive back his musings over Amelia to a safer distance.
As soon as he could, he vaulted into Maximus’s saddle, the stallion already dancing in anticipation and sensing his master’s tightly coiled nerves. They exploded from the castle gates, skirting a wide berth around the village, thundering along swelling, rocky riverbanks. Out of habit, Dorian kept in the back of his mind several landmarks, the direction of the rapidly flowing brown water, and the angle of the sun so he might find his way back.
Both he and Maximus reveled in the brutal pace, the violent, whipping wind that stole their heavy breaths, the thrilling blur as they flew past the uniquely Scottish landscape. They rode until Maximus was lathered in sweat, frothing at the mouth in glorious exhaustion; until even Dorian’s seasoned hands cramped and his thighs were aflame with fatigue. He held the reins in his left hand, flexing the aching joints in his right before repeating the practice on the other side.
He and Maximus were still breathing hard when they happened upon Archie playing in the castle courtyard with a group of local children. Scottish inflections flew back and forth as they sprinted and dodged one another. Dorian continued to walk Maximus as he watched his littlest, most formidable obstacle. The way to win Amelia had been through her son, he’d recognized that. Now, he needed to figure out how to move forward with winning him over.
The stuffed leather ball the children were playing with came careening in their direction. Maximus tossed his head, startled, but too exhausted to do much else. Dorian held his seat and kepta firm grip on his horse, whispering calming words and patting his slick neck.
The children halted in their pursuit when they saw the towering mass of well-dressed, wind-whipped man and horse. Archie hung a little further from the rest, eyeing Dorian warily.
“Sorry, M’Lord!” One of the bigger boys ran over and apologized for the ball crossing their path. He jogged over and, one by one, the other children followed to admire Maximus’s size.
“Who’s ’e?” a little girl with her hair done up in bright red plaits asked Archie.
His reply was low and grudging, but Dorian did not miss how he was characterized as “his mother’s friend”.
“’E’s so pretty,” said another little girl, her eyes wide as they took in his horse. “Can I pet ’im?”
Dorian turned his winning smile on her and slid from the saddle, slipping the reins over the horse’s ears.
“Normally, I would say no, but Maximus is worn out from his run.” He crouched down and looked the children in the eyes. “You must all promise me that if you are in the stables, you will not go near him without me, though. No one else, either. He can be dangerous.”
They nodded, some going so far as to cross their hearts. Dorian pulled from the pocket of his coat a couple of carrots he’d swiped from a bucket in the stables and, after snapping them into smaller pieces, showed the children one by one how to hold their palms flat when they fed him the treats.
“She’s so beautiful,” said the girl as she stroked Maximus’s silver forelock.
One of the bigger boys chimed in, saying, “’E ain’t no lass—look a’ ’is bollocks.”
Dorian tried not to laugh at the candidness of the comment. Instead, he turned his attention to Archie, who hadn’t movedone inch closer the entire time, despite all of his playmates having abandoned him for the horse.
