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“Don’t be a baconbrain. I enjoy your company very much.” She looked toward the meadow and the grass swaying ever so slightly in the light breeze. The industrious hum of bees going about their business filled the air. “I merely want to make a good impression among your friends.”

“I appreciate your conscientiousness, Ophelia, and I promise we will entertain soon.” He gave her one of his smoldering looks. “Can you blame me for wanting you all to myself for a little while longer?”

A flush of pleasure stole over her.

When he looked at her like that, all of her remaining common sense took to wing. She would be wise not to dwell on where her thoughts directed her when that happened. They were not the least chaste.

“Just let me know when the time is appropriate,” she said, steering Opal around a divot in the ground. “I shall need help with the guest list.”

Stanford nodded rather distractedly as he skimmed his keen gaze this way and that. The dark blue of his hunting jacket deepened his eye color to cobalt. Daily, she came to appreciate how handsome he was—not in the pretty, affected way of so many peers. But rather, he was attractive in a rugged, manly manner that very much appealed to her.

For the first time this morning, Ophelia noticed the tense lines bracketing his mouth and the stiffness of his shoulders and spine. His expression had become pinched, especially between his eyebrows.

Something was amiss.

Catching her lower lip between her teeth, Ophelia pondered. Should she ask him about whatever troubled him or pretend ignorance? If Stanford wanted her to know, wouldn’t he have mentioned it?

Some things a person preferred to keep to themselves. Mayhap she could take his mind off of whatever bothered him.

“The castle isn’t along our normal route, I presume.” She could’ve kicked herself for the idiocy of her remark. Of course, it wasn’t. If it had been, he would’ve shown it to her before this.

“No. We ride a half-mile along this lane and then take an overgrown track to the site.” He half-turned and looked behind them. “I wonder if I oughtn’t to have had a groom or two come along as well.”

“But why?” She treasured these private times with him. They inevitably resulted in a few passionate kisses and caresses.

Ophelia had discovered she quite liked both. And both made her eager to sample the marriage bed. Nonetheless, she still hesitated to fully become Stanford’s in every way. Once she did, she feared the Ophelia she now was would cease to be.

It was silly and illogical, but the dread was genuine.

“It’s been some time since I’ve been there,” Stanford said, drawing her back to the present. “The path may be more difficult to pass through than I’ve anticipated, and an extra hand or two would’ve been welcome to clear the way.”

She lifted one shoulder and adjusted her grip on the reins. “Well, if it is impassable for the horses, we can either go on foot or ask to have the path cleared, and we can visit another day.”

He gave her a sideways glance. “Are you always so pragmatic, my darling Ophelia?”

Not always.

Not when it came to her husband.

Most especially not when he called her his darling.

Before them, a swallow dove after an insect, then gracefully swooped high into the air again. She and Stanford rode on abreast of one another, and the silence between them was not quite contentment.

It was because she couldn’t stop wondering what had him distracted and uneasy.

Suddenly, several crows took flight from the woodlands, their coarse caws breaking the summer day’s lazy serenity. Simultaneously, the warning cries of squirrels filled the air.

Stanford’s black eyebrows lashed together as he peered intently into the moving shadows within the woodlands to their left.

“Ophelia,” he said beneath his breath in a tone that raised her nape hairs. “Turn Opal around and run back to the stables. Now.”

She opened her mouth to ask why when a movement caught her eye, and a frisson of fear skittered along her spine and clawed at her stomach.

Someone was in the woods.

Someone dangerous from Stanford’s reaction.

“Stanford?” Her voice trembled the merest bit. “What—?”