Page 14

Chapter Fourteen

“ L ittle doe,” Dominic called as he pulled up beside her, “running from the world again?”

A ride had been just what he needed—space, silence, and a moment of peace.

He had steered his stallion off the main trail, seeking solitude, the noise of the lords still echoing in his mind. The horse had moved easily over the soft earth, its hooves quiet on the carpet of fallen leaves.

The moment he’d begun to settle into the rhythm, a movement in the distance had caught his eye.

A rider.

He’d watched the rider, noting the ease with which they guided their horse. Then, he’d seen the fluttering blue fabric.

Skirts—it was a lady.

And so he’d urged his horse forward, curiosity driving him. Once he’d drawn closer, he recognized her.

Lady Marianne.

Her brown curls escaped from beneath her riding hat, her posture confident. One hand gripped the reins, the other steady at her side. No side-saddle, no trembling limbs—this was someone who knew how to ride and wasn’t afraid to prove it.

He could not help but tease her, a grin already forming on his lips when he felt an overwhelming relief to see her looking healthy after her father said she was ‘indisposed.’ There was certainly more to the story and more to this lady.

Marianne glanced sideways, not the least bit surprised to see him.

“I am not running,” she said, arching an eyebrow. “Merely escaping the confines of the house.”

“Well,” he challenged lightly, “since you’re so desperate to escape, I propose a race. Let’s see if you can outrun me.”

That caught her attention, and for a brief moment, uncertainty flickered in her gaze as she blinked at him. Dominic held her stare, keeping the challenge alive.

The dare was laid bare before them, and it seemed like it would be his way to spend more time with her.

Marianne hesitated, her eyes drifting from his to her horse. Then, she glanced ahead, as though assessing the terrain before her.

“Fine. I accept,” she said.

Without another word, she kicked her heels into her horse’s flanks, and it sprang forward—fast, like an arrow loosed from its bow.

Dominic laughed but quickly spurred his own horse forward, unwilling to give her an easy head start.

He knew she was a skilled rider from the brief glimpse he’d had earlier, but riding alongside her now, he saw just how much. They were neck and neck, even as the terrain grew rougher and the wind whipped at their faces.

He stole glances at her, admiring her intense focus and the red hue on her cheeks. She moved in perfect harmony with her horse, and the sight enchanted him. If he hadn’t seen her among others, he might have believed she was a wood nymph.

Marianne leaned forward, urging her steed to ride faster.

“I thought a duke would have a bit more endurance!” she called out.

Her laughter rang out—a beautiful melody that made his pulse quicken.

The trail narrowed as the hill steepened, wildflowers growing thicker at the edges like they’d been planted there on purpose. Dominic eased ahead, instinctively taking the lead—something he hadn’t meant as a challenge.

He glanced back just in time to catch the gleam in Marianne’s eyes.

Determined. Defiant. Irresistible.

She leaned forward in the saddle and clicked her tongue. Her mare responded with a surge of speed.

Dominic cursed under his breath. “Lady Marianne?—”

She cut a corner too tightly, her horse stumbling on a rock half-hidden in the earth. It wasn’t a full fall, but the sudden jolt pitched her forward, her balance gone. One of her hands fumbled at the reins, the other grabbing uselessly at air.

“Easy, girl!” she called to the horse, her voice breathless but calm—too calm.

Dominic was already beside her. His horse surged forward. He reached out without thinking, arm wrapping around her waist, catching her before she could tumble to the ground.

Her body hit his chest with a soft thud. She gasped, instinctively grabbing at his shoulder to steady herself.

He held her there, both their horses finally slowing to a stop. For a second, the world narrowed to just her—the feel of her breath against his collarbone, the press of her curves against him, the way her gloved hand curled into the fabric of his coat like she didn’t quite want to let go.

Her face tilted up. Her lips were parted. Her gaze flicked to his mouth and lingered.

God, he wanted to kiss her.

“You’re lucky I didn’t let you fall, little doe,” he murmured, voice low, the nickname catching on his tongue like a secret.

Her lips curved, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Lucky? I had the situation well in hand, Your Grace.”

“Ah yes,” he said dryly. “Plunging headfirst into the earth was clearly part of your strategy.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I wasn’t plunging. The mare slipped.”

“You were about to eat dirt.”

“Not true,” she said, lifting her chin as if daring him to contradict her again. “And even if I had fallen, I’ve had worse scrapes.”

“You say that like I should feel better about the prospect.”

“Have you never taken a spill off a horse before?”

“I have. Didn’t enjoy it. Don’t recommend it for beautiful women with reckless streaks.”

She scoffed at that, though he could see the slight color rising in her cheeks.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said at last, “Though I am not fond of interference, I am grateful.”

“Interference,” he repeated, amused. “That’s what you’re calling saving your lovely, stubborn hide?”

A smile curved her lips—soft, almost unwillingly—and turned her head slightly, breaking the spell.

Dominic still hadn’t let go of her waist. He could feel the warmth of her through her riding jacket, and part of him didn’t want to ever release her.

But she shifted then, pulling back a few inches, enough to cool the moment.

“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Your Grace,” she said. “Always have been.”

He let his hand fall from her waist.

“Yes,” he said, quieter now. “I can tell.”

“Good.”

She watched him a beat longer, and then with a flick of the reins, turned her mare and took off again down the trail—faster this time, as if trying to outrun whatever had just passed between them.

Dominic didn’t follow immediately. He exhaled slowly, as if he’d just dismounted from battle. In a way, maybe he had.

She always ran.

But today, just for a moment, she had leaned into him.

And God help him, he would keep riding after her—again and again—until the day she finally stayed.