Page 14 of An Arranged Marriage with a Cruel Earl (Marriage Mart Scandals #2)

Emmeline stood by Snowflake, her heart pounding in her chest like a wild drumbeat. Behind her, she could sense Andrew’s presence—steady and reassuring, yet so near it made her breath catch. She felt acutely aware of him, as though his nearness carried a quiet warmth that reached her even without a single touch.

Snowflake whickered a greeting. She gazed up at his back. Her own horse, Starlight, was at least a hand shorter than Snowflake, and at home—where nobody could see her—she often rode with a man’s saddle. Trying to mount up onto a horse a hand taller, and into a side-saddle, was proving a challenge too far for her.

She swallowed hard, feeling a little annoyed with herself. She was a good horsewoman, but now, with Andrew watching, she was going to look as though she didn’t even know how to mount up. She cleared her throat, affronted and shy at once.

“Um...might you have a mounting block?” she asked with as nonchalant a tone as she could.

Andrew lifted his shoulder. His face was impassive though his eyes danced with amusement.

“No. We regrettably do not. But I can offer you something else instead?”

“What else?” Emmeline asked, just a little crossly. Without the mounting block, she couldn’t do it; and he really ought to have one.

“If you don’t mind?” Andrew asked and held out his hands. She guessed what he meant just as his hands closed around her waist.

“I don’t think you will...” She tried to say that she did not think he could lift her so high as to put her on Snowflake’s back, but before she had got the words out, she was sailing through the air, and she landed with a small thump on the side-saddle. She let out a surprised cry before she could stop herself. He grinned.

“There. I reckon that does it?”

She saw the bright sparkle in his eyes and huffed with indignation, then giggled. Her cheeks were warm with flushing, and her hair had come a little loose as he lifted her up. She tucked some stray locks behind her ear, still chuckling .

“That did the job,” she said with a laugh. “I didn’t think you could get me up here so easily.” Her cheeks reddened still further as she recalled how it was to have his hands tight around her waist. He had lifted her effortlessly, and as he lifted her, her body pressed close to his for a moment.

“You’re quite light,” he told her, walking to his own horse. He stepped up on the fence and threw a leg over, then urged his horse forward to ride beside hers. She wished she was riding astride—it really was a great deal easier.

“ Quite light?” she asked him, raising a brow.

He chuckled. “Not as light as a feather, nor as a dust mote. But then, if you were, you’d be far too small to see, and then I’d miss the pleasure of your smile.”

Emmeline laughed. It was a ludicrous thing to say, and yet, it made her heart leap. He was grinning at her and she grinned back warmly.

“I will take that in the best spirit,” she told him with a smile.

He chuckled. “That is indeed the spirit in which it was meant.” He leaned towards the horse, and she realised just before he did it that he was going to urge his horse into a trot. She leaned forward too and Snowflake, evidently used to receiving messages in such a way, bunched his torso and shot ahead, his pace more like a canter than a trot. She whooped in delight, instinctively gripping with her knees and leaning back to slow him. As Andrew rode up, she turned around, giving him a bright smile.

“He goes so fast!” Her heart was soaring. She missed Starlight, but she had not ridden for two weeks, and she had forgotten how wonderful it was simply to ride.

Andrew chuckled. “He likes a run, does Snowflake. He wants to give his best. If you lean too far forward, he and you are liable to race off faster than anyone’s gone at the Ascot racecourse.”

Emmeline giggled. “I’ll do well to keep that in memory.”

“Indeed, you will,” Andrew replied lightly.

Emmeline’s cheeks reddened again. His gaze at her was admiring, those blue eyes holding her own. She reached up, realising that her hair had mostly fallen loose from its chignon—she had not prepared at all for riding and was not even wearing a proper riding habit. The side-saddle did the best job it could of protecting her modesty, as her legs remained mostly covered by her skirts, but she was sure that, every now and again, an ankle would stick out. She looked ahead, focusing on the ride.

“Where were you planning to ride to?” she asked him as she leaned slightly back, slowing Snowflake to a walk.

“I suppose up to the lake,” he said lightly, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “It’s about two miles away. The horses can drink at the lake and then we will ride back again. It’s my usual ride if I don’t intend to call on anyone or go to London.”

“Do you need to go to London often?” she asked as she drew level with him again. He had trotted ahead, since the path narrowed, but now they had reached a wider place, and they rode side-by-side along a path flanked with broadleaf trees, their wide leaves green and dancing in the soft wind.

“Not often. For which I am excessively grateful,” he replied as he rode.

She laughed. “I feel just the same,” she replied with some surprise. She would have imagined that someone who—apart from being poor and living in a ruinous house—was handsome, noble, and witty, would be the darling of high society.

“You do?” He raised a brow. He sounded surprised too. She shot him a sidelong glance. Surely, he must have noticed that she was far from socially skilled, that she spoke too much and said her opinion too often? He must have noticed that she rode and ran and laughed and lived on altogether a bigger scale than the Ton seemed to expect of women.

“Yes,” she said simply. “I hated being with the Ton.”

“Oh.”

He halted and she noticed that they had arrived at the lake. The surface was pale blue and glittered in the sunshine that had broken through the clouds as they rode. The expanse of water was not particularly large—perhaps ten paces across and maybe eight paces wide—but it was breathtaking, surrounded by trees of various shades of green and soft, pale green grass. Emmeline sighed at the beauty of it.

Andrew dismounted and waited for her to follow suit, then looped his horse’s reins up so that they did not trail and snag the horse on bushes while he grazed. Emmeline did the same and walked with Andrew to the lake.

She stood and stared out over the blue water. It was beautiful, the surface ruffled by a delicate breeze, the leaves on the trees moving softly around it .

“Why is that?” Andrew asked, making her frown.

“Why what?” she asked, tucking a strand of red hair out of her eye. It was easy to ignore his closeness when they were both riding, but when they were both dismounted, she was overwhelmingly aware of him standing beside her. Her heart raced.

“I expected you would like London. There’s much to do there, so much diversion. I am surprised you do not like it. It seems to me you are someone who does not like to be still.”

Emmeline grinned and nodded. “I dislike being still intensely.” She chuckled, feeling a flush creep into her cheek. He was watching her, genuinely interested in her. It made her entire body flood with warmth. She cleared her throat, self-consciously, and continued. “Which is one of the reasons I dislike London. It seems all people care to do in London is stand around at soirees and parties.”

Andrew laughed. “You’re quite right,” he agreed. “It is all they seem to do. That, and gossip.”

“Yes!” The word shot out more loudly than she expected. She lifted her hand to her mouth and giggled. His eyes shone.

“Did you find the gossip tiresome?” he asked.

“It’s always tiresome if it’s about you,” she replied swiftly. She hadn’t meant to speak so intensely, and she looked up at him, half expecting to see a frown of distaste on his brow. He was looking away, looking across the lake, and when he looked back, his eyes were emotion-filled.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Yes, it is.” His voice was hoarse, and Emmeline swallowed hard. She realised that Lady Rilendale had been right...the malicious rumours about him killing his grandfather were just that—malicious rumours.

“I know,” she said softly, trying to think of something to say to soften the harshness of her words earlier. “They said I was far too ready with my opinion for a woman; too direct and intense.” Her heart twisted at the memory. Her father’s face flashed into her mind, his words filling her head. Be yourself, he whispered. The world needs your light.

Her eyes filled with tears.

To her surprise, he touched her on her cheek and when she opened her eyes, Andrew was resting his hand on her face, his gaze gentle and concerned. He stared into her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. His voice was rough with emotion. “I’m sorry that you have been suffering so hard. ”

She shook her head. “It’s not that. It wasn’t hard. Not...exactly.” She could barely talk. Her throat was too tight with her feelings. His hand on her face was gentle, his thumb rubbing the tears away. “I was thinking of Father.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again softly. “It’s so hard at first. Losing a parent. I was just a child—I barely remember the year after he passed.”

She shook her head. “You were just little more than a babe in arms,” she said gently. “And it wasn’t just your Papa, but your Mama too.” She recalled what Lady Rilendale had told her.

“Yes.” His eyes were filled with tears now too. “Yes, it was. It was hard.”

“I’m sorry,” she said gently.

“Don’t be,” he said with a grin through the tears. “It was an awfully long time ago now.” His smile was watery, the traces of tears wet on his cheeks. “Sorry.” He shook his head. “I haven’t thought about them, or cried, in a long time. A very long time.”

“I don’t know if it gets easier,” Emmeline whispered. The horrible ache inside her whenever she so much thought of Father had become worse, not better, with time.

“It does,” he said softly. “I promise. It does.”

“Good.”

She gazed into his eyes. Very gently, he moved his hand so that he could tuck a stray curl of red hair behind her ear. She swallowed hard. The touch was so warm, so tender. It sent shivers down her spine, and a sudden ache filled her—a need to hold him and be held by him, to feel his lips trace the path that his hand had just traced. She gazed up at him. He gazed back.

“We should go back,” he said softly. “My grandmother will be most upset if we are late for mealtime.”

“I wouldn’t wish to upset her,” Emmeline said quickly.

He grinned. “She’d be furious if I made you late. She has taken a liking to you as she has to nobody else that I know.”

“I like her,” Emmeline said instantly. The dowager countess was a dear woman, gentle and kind. In some strange way, she reminded her of her own mother.

“Well, then, we’d best ride back,” Andrew said softly.

“Yes, we should,” she agreed .

Neither of them said anything for a moment and it was after a few seconds of staring into her eyes, making her body fizz with feeling, that he turned and walked towards his horse. She followed and unhooked the reins. She walked her horse to the nearby gate, as he had, and mounted up from the fence. He raised a brow.

“Splendidly done,” he complimented her as she rode up next to him.

“Incredible what one can do if one has a real mounting block,” she answered playfully.

He laughed. “You!” he exclaimed, his chuckle warm and genuine. “You’ll be the death of me.”

She laughed too, her laughter mingling with his as they rode at a walking pace up to the path. The horses had spent some time eating good fresh grass and drinking at the lake, but they were still tired, and the sun had come out in earnest, making it hot as they rode. They slowed their horses, not wanting to exhaust them in the heat. They arrived back at Rilendale Manor just as the bell chimed for midday.

“That’s just as we needed it,” Andrew said warmly.

Emmeline chuckled. She rode her horse into the stable yard behind his and dismounted at the fence as he had done. He reached up to steady her.

“Easy, dear,” he said gently. “You could fall.”

Emmeline’s body flooded with chills, her heart thudding in her chest as she stared into his blue eyes. It was the first time he had used a term of endearment, and it made her soul soar with joy.

“Thank you,” she said softly. She wanted to use a term of endearment herself, but she was desperately shy and though it was on the very tip of her tongue, she could not make herself use one.

He gazed into her eyes, and she gazed back. She was standing on the hard-packed earth of the stable yard and wearing her outdoor boots, and she had to tip back her head to gaze up into his eyes. He was a head taller than her. His eyes were pale blue and when she looked closely, she could see little greyish marks in them. Her heart raced. His gaze held hers, unwavering and heat washed through her, making her toes tingle and her cheeks warm.

He leaned close, and his right hand gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear again. The touch made her heart race.

“We should go and sit down for luncheon,” he said lightly. “Mr Pearson must be frantically searching for us,” he added with a laugh .

“Yes. We should go indoors,” she agreed, turning to where their horses stood patiently, drinking at the trough by the stable wall.

She led Snowflake into his stall and Andrew stabled his own horse. He called for the groom.

“Bring them both bran mash and rub them down well once you have unsaddled them,” he instructed the youth, who Emmeline guessed to be about seventeen, and who had a cheeky grin on his face.

“Yes, my lord,” he agreed at once. “And I’ll get the farrier in tomorrow, as you instructed.”

“Yes, Hal. Please,” Andrew agreed.

Emmeline walked with Andrew towards the house. As they reached it, she saw the front door open, and Mr Pearson walked briskly down the steps. She had thought he was searching the house for them and smiled at Andrew, but Andrew looked serious.

“What is it?”

“It’s Lady Rilendale. She has fallen down the stairs.”