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She squinted at Adam, a thought occurring in her mind. “Would you care to wager on that?”

“A wager? Haven’t we already had one?”

“Yes,” she allowed easily. “And you lost.”

He scratched his jaw, his grin addicting. “Very well. But be warned. You might not like my forfeit.”

Hopefully, you will like mine. “I won’t even find out what it is.”

Adam let out another chuckle. “Ready?”

A ripple of excitement tingled between them as they positioned themselves at the starting line—or rather by the shrub that represented the starting line.

With a shared nod, the signal was given, and they shot forward, their horses galloping in unison. The thundering of hooves against the ground and the wind howling in her ears added to Beatrice’s exhilarating feeling. The night seemed to come alive as they raced side by side, determination evident on their faces.

“Not a bad start for a city chap,” Beatrice called out, a laugh dancing in her voice.

Adam grinned, his voice carrying a playful challenge. “You’ll need more than wit and charm to outpace me, Beatrice. But do try your best.”

Their horses thundered along the Serpentine’s winding path, Adam and Beatrice deftly navigating through each twist and turn. Beatrice pulled ahead, but only a little, and the smile on Adam’s face let her know that he wasn’t trying his damndest to win. The glances he threw her, and his position only a foot away, made it seem like he was doing that on purpose.

He was watching her too, as if worried she might stumble or fall.

Hadn’t he said he would not let her win? Beatrice was frustrated and a little offended he wasn’t trying his best. So, she decided to taunt his competitive spirit into giving up his gentlemanly practice. “You’re not keeping up, good sir. Is this the best you can do?”

Adam’s eyes gleamed, his voice laced with mock surprise. “My dear Beatrice, I’m merely giving you a head start to make things more interesting. You’ll need it.”

As they neared the final stretch, Beatrice urged her horse onward, but so did Adam, and they raced neck and neck for a few short moments. Just before the finish line, Adam gave his horse a nudge, and he finished first by a horse’s nose.

They pulled their horses to a halt, chests heaving, sweat glistening on their brows. Adam raised a fist in the air, a glimmer of triumph shining in his eyes. “What did I tell you?”

A mixture of excitement and disappointment warred inside her. The race was one she would never forget. And she couldn’t help but admire Adam’s integrity in not letting her win. He could’ve passed her a lot earlier, she knew. But he’d raced by her side to make sure she didn’t injure herself in unfamiliar terrain at night.

At the same time, she’d truly wanted to win. Not least of the reasons why was because her forfeit would’ve been a kiss. And that kiss would have brought them closer… or at least, that’s what she’d hoped.

“It wasn’t a fair race,” she complained instead. “This isn’t my horse, and you’re more familiar with the path. If we were in the field where I race daily, I would have left you in the dust.”

“Perhaps, one day we can test that theory,” he called playfully and then he must have realized that would never happen, so he choked on his own words.

Beatrice swallowed, the smile wiped from her face. She took a couple of breaths to get her wits back, then turned toward Adam. “Well, what’s your forfeit?”

Adam jumped off his horse and stretched out his arms toward her. Beatrice dismounted the horse and fell right into Adam’s arms.

The contact their bodies made as she slid down sent a frisson of awareness and a tingle of excitement along her limbs. She raised her face to his, her head thrown back so she could meet his eyes.

Would he kiss her? Was that his forfeit?

A harsh wind blew, whipping Beatrice’s hair in her face. She was forced to look away and gather her hair back when a few drops landed on her bonnet.

Was it raining? She hadn’t even noticed that the clouds now covered the entire sky.

She looked up, and a couple of drops plopped against her spectacles. She shook her head and wiped her spectacles against her gown before putting them back on.

“Well, that complicates things,” Adam grumbled.

“Complicates what?” Beatrice held her bonnet close to her face.

“My forfeit.”