Page 16 of Dare to Tempt an Earl This Spring (Wedding Fever #1)

A shley shifted unsteadily on her mare.

When it came to moods, Ashley had never struggled to rally from the depths of her spirits. She had mastered the talent for changing her outlook, swapping despondent thoughts for brighter ones. Whether it was the sting of rejection or the weight of expectation, she always found a way to rise above, wrapping herself in laughter and a sunny disposition.

Or revenge.

But she wasn’t ready to dwell on that sentiment again—not right now.

Thomas’s excitement over the upcoming wedding, the way he had spoken of the invitations with such pride, had made her heart twist with a pang of guilt she hadn’t been prepared for. She wasn’t sure why, but something inside her recoiled at the thought of not being able to match his enthusiasm. And it had taken the entirety of their walk back to the stables to pull herself back into liveliness, a task that began the moment Linsey had pressed that quick, unexpected kiss to her cheek, which should have deepened her guilt, but left her breathless instead.

Now, on horseback, Ashley felt unsteady and rattled in numerous ways she wouldn’t even bother to count. With the horse’s rhythmic stride beneath her thighs, Ashley’s newfound composure was at risk again. If ever there was something to dread about attempting to impress a man who adored horses, this was it.

Riding.

On a horse.

All ladylike and graceful.

Was she riding ladylike? Ashley wasn’t quite sure. She was doing her best in her new habit shirt. The collar was entirely too high and scratched her chin, so high was it. And the weighted hem of her dress might have been draped elegantly over the horse’s back, but she couldn’t remember ever being so uncomfortable or immodest in sitting that way…how did Thomas make it look so natural? However, clothing was only a small part of riding. The fashion part. However, spine straight? Accounted. Shoulders lowered? Accounted. Chin up? Accounted.

Elegance is confidence, she reminded herself.

Reins held properly? Accounted. Smile? Accounted. Legs? Her gaze flicked down, then back up again. Accounted. Nerves? Oh, very much accounted for.

Her neck sent a jolt of pain through her spine as if her bones complained about being on horseback.

Come on, Ashley. You can do this.

Her grip tightened on the reins as she lifted her chin another notch. This was an exploration, was it not?

Confidence is elegance.

“This horse rides smoothly,” she announced. Oh dear, why did she say “this horse”? And smoothly? So many better words she could have chosen!

A warm laugh drifted across the space between her and Thomas who was too far away for her comfort. “Lady Catrina is a smooth-riding horse.”

She inwardly grimaced as she recalled the cook’s bland teasing. “Indeed.”

“What is your dream, Lady Ashley?” Linsey asked, his question as sudden as a sharp gust of wind. Her head snapped toward him.

“My dream? Do you mean…what I dreamed last night?”

He shot her a look. “That’s not quite what I meant. I want to know your dreams. What do you think about when you’re alone? What do you long for?”

She’d suspected he’d meant that, but no one had ever asked her this question. It caught her off guard. “I suppose…” What should she answer? “To wed and raise a family. You know, not to become a spinster.” She scrunched her brows. “Though, I suppose that isn’t much of a dream, is it?”

“It is if that is what you long for.”

She glanced at him. “I suppose.” She hadn’t quite thought about her dreams. She’d always known what was required of her. There was no mystery, nothing to fight for or fight against. It was the way of their world. Until she found a measure of purpose in her mission for revenge.

However .

It wasn’t the kind of purpose she had ever expected to cling to, but it had given her direction, a way to channel the anger and hurt that simmered beneath her calm exterior. It was easier, sometimes, to focus on settling old scores than to admit she didn’t know what her own future should look like. Dreams had always seemed too fragile, too uncertain, and it was proven with Linsey and Jordan’s wager. But revenge? That was tangible, something she could control. It gave her focus, a sense of reason when everything else felt uncertain.

But even then, it wasn’t a future.

No, what she wanted—what she had always wanted—was acceptance.

Her mother had often despaired over her outspokenness, the way Ashley spoke her mind in a world that demanded women remain silent and proper. “You’ll never find a man with that sharp tongue of yours,” her mother had said countless times, her disapproval seeping into every conversation like an ever-present shadow. For years, those words had weighed on her, planting a seed of self-doubt she could never fully shake.

But her father had been different. He had always been patient, never quick to reprimand her for speaking her mind. He had made her feel heard, accepted, even when she feared her voice was too much for the world to bear. It was that kind of man she sought—someone with the patience of a saint, like her father, who could understand that she wasn’t trying to defy society for the sake of rebellion; rather it was because she couldn’t be anything less than herself.

It wasn’t love she craved. It was someone who would look at her, with all her edges and faults, and simply…stay. Not because he had to but because he wanted to despite and because of everything that she couldn’t change about herself—or didn’t care to change because she wouldn’t be herself anymore. Perhaps that was love. Or was love a requirement for such a commitment?

She glanced at Linsey again.

Was he that man? Could he be? Or would he be like so many others, charmed by her spirit but, in time, worn down by it?

Stow that thought!

She was not here for that.

Ashley felt the familiar grip of her leather gloves as she released the reins with one hand, the supple material allowing her to move with confidence. The veil of her riding hat teased her nose, a persistent tickle that demanded attention. As she reached up to adjust the hat, a sudden gust sent her tilting sideways. Her heart lurched as her body shifted unexpectedly, the world briefly tilting with her. Instinctively, she tightened her hold on the reins, her muscles tensing to stabilize her precarious position. With a sharp inhale, she centered herself again, the horse’s steady rhythm beneath her gradually calming her racing pulse.

“What I long for?” she finally murmured. “I don’t know…” Anymore . She cocked her head, studying him. Perhaps it was time to probe. “Tell me, Linsey, have you ever run anyone out of England?”

“Please, call me Thomas, and what do you mean have I ever run anyone out of England?” He turned to look at her. “That’s quite a specific question.” Amusement still lit his tone. A smidgeon of uncertainty. The latter perhaps of where the conversation was going.

“No. I have not. Have you ?” he countered.

She considered him. “Does my mother count?”

He chuckled, and she averted her gaze, focusing on the shadows playing off the trees. It wasn’t a lie—her mother had made it quite clear she hadn’t wanted a daughter like her. So, she had left to travel with her friends most of her childhood. Of course, Ashley knew now that it wasn’t all because of her.

“Whatever happened with your mother,” Linsey suddenly said. “You’re not at fault. A child could never be at fault.”

She glanced at him. “Bold words.” For a man that just lied to her, and for a man that would surely point a finger straight at her the moment he learned about her connection to Jordan, as well as her plot. How low had she stooped in this, she didn’t know yet, but she’d fall even lower—once Thomas found out about her motives—that she’d hit the hot center of the earth.

Yes, hot.

Ashley fanned herself with her left hand again and slipped a little again.

So she couldn’t move but the horse was shaking her up and that was called a leisurely strut? Why did Linsey like horses?

“Perhaps I’m merely trying to match your spirit.”

“Well, if that is the case, how can I complain? If only everyone could attempt to match it, the world would be a delightfully interesting place,” she said wistfully.

His laughter prickled across her skin. “Bold is for the bold.” He paused. “Sometimes it’s easier for people to run away than stay. It’s not in everyone’s character to face the truth and work to correct it.”

Ashley’s lips twitched into a grin.

“What?” he asked when he caught it. “That’s a terrifying look. What are you thinking?”

“Just that you are right. It’s easy to run away.” She cast him a small smile. “I practically ran away with you, didn’t I?”

He stared at her a moment before clearing his throat. “Yes, well, I do like running.”

A sense of foreboding crept up on her.

“I’ll race you back to the stables.” His grin turned wicked. “The winner gets to demand anything from the loser.”

A race? Demand anything from the loser? That loser would undoubtedly be her!

Before she could protest, Thomas spurred his horse into a gallop, leaving her in a cloud of dust. But he’d sent her that ravishing smile over his broad shoulders that she couldn’t deny the pleasure of following him.

Oh well, if she was going to fall, she’d better make it fast.

She urged her horse into motion, her heart pounding. It wasn’t that she couldn’t ride, but there was something she had never told anyone. Not even her father when he taught her to ride. Another little secret.

Heights.

She was terrified of heights. And she’d forgotten how high horses were. Even getting this far had been a miracle.

But she couldn’t let go now. She couldn’t lose, not like this. Determined, she pushed herself forward, gripping the reins tighter.

Her body slid precariously to the side.

Dear heavens, she was going to fall!

No! I refuse to fall! I refuse to be humiliated to such a degree. Fear surged through her, a primal instinct kicking in, screaming for survival.

Don’t let me fall, Lady Catrina!

But no matter how hard she held on, her body continued to slip. She hadn’t ridden in years. She didn’t know what to do. Despite her desperate grip, she felt her body sliding, inch by inch, an unstoppable descent fueled by years without practice. The rough texture of the saddle seemed to push her away, and panic rose in her chest, sharp and insistent. Her father had never taught her how to handle it.

Her heart pounded louder than the horse’s hooves, and she squeezed her eyes shut, the world becoming a blur of sound and sensation. Wildflowers blurred into streaks of color as she braced herself for the fall. Her hands, slick with sweat, lost their hold, and she felt the terrifying rush of inevitability.

Ashley squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable—preparing to meet the ground, wildflowers and all. For all her best efforts, for slipping out to the town, trying her best to showcase her talent, it still ended this way. With her in the dirt!

This couldn’t be how it ended.

Not like this.

Please, not like this!

*

Thomas had known fear in his life, but nothing to this degree. He’d been distracted for barely a moment, and that had been enough for disaster to unfold. He’d wanted to race, had set off at a neck-breaking pace, but something had nagged at the back of his mind. Intuition, perhaps. He had turned back just in time to witness the chaos.

And there she was—Lady Ashley, slipping from her mare, Lady Catrina!

She bobbed helplessly, making strange noises atop the horse’s back. If it weren’t so dangerous, it would have been amusing.

Pure instinct took over.

By all that was dear, he couldn’t let her fall.

“Are you all right?” he called, urging his stallion forward with a firm press of his legs. “Ashley?”

Swish! She slid to the side, her hands clinging to the reins as her skirts fluttered up, revealing her boots.

“Pull yourself up!” The mare was moving too fast for her to dismount safely, and if she wasn’t careful, her legs might tangle with the horse’s. Thomas clenched his jaw. No. He wouldn’t allow it.

His heart pounded in his chest as he edged his stallion closer to her. The trees blurred into a whirlwind of green as hooves pounded against the earth. He could see the panic in Ashley’s posture, her grip on the reins frantic and unsteady. Her mare, feeding off her tension, only accelerated, turning an already precarious situation into a full-blown crisis.

“Steady,” he muttered, more to himself than the horses, calculating the distance and timing of his next move. His stallion responded to his unspoken command, matching the mare’s speed with precision.

Thomas didn’t hesitate.

Thomas scanned the path ahead, his eyes flicking over the landscape with practiced speed, confirming the way was clear. The wind howled in his ears, blending with the pounding of hooves against the earth, a chaotic symphony urging him to act. With a deep breath, he released the reins, feeling the familiar leather slip through his fingers. It was a reckless move, one born out of sheer necessity.

Muscles coiled, he pushed against the saddle, the powerful surge of his horse beneath him providing the momentum he needed. The world slowed as he launched himself into the air, his legs splaying in a daring arc. Gravity tugged at him, but adrenaline sharpened his focus, every second stretching into an eternity. He was weightless, suspended between the two beasts, the ground a blur below.

The impact jolted through him as he landed on Lady Catrina, his hands gripping the saddle with fierce determination. The transition was seamless yet jarring, her powerful stride absorbing the force of his leap. Thomas steadied himself, the thrill of the daring feat coursing through his veins, his only thought now on reaching Ashley and pulling her back to safety.

He landed hard behind Ashley, the impact shaking them both.

But there was no time to waste. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her firmly against his chest. With his other hand, he reached for the reins. “I’ve got you,” he said, his voice steady despite the chaos.

His stallion galloped alongside them, as if it too was part of the rescue.

Thomas gently tugged the reins, his hands coaxing the mare to slow. Bit by bit, the horse responded, easing from a wild gallop to a more manageable trot.

Relief washed over him, but his awareness of Ashley, pressed so closely against him, flooded his senses. Her breath, ragged and uneven, began to sync with the slowing pace of the horse. His arms, still securely around her, tightened ever so slightly.

She felt like heaven in his arms.

“I had her under control,” Ashley said between breaths.

Thomas bit back a curse, but he decided to play along. “Yes, I could see that. Straight as an arrow.”

She nodded, her head brushing against the arm holding onto her. “I was.”

“Pointing toward disaster, Ashley.” He shifted, taking both reins in one hand while the other wrapped more snugly around her waist. “You scared me to death.”

“Me, too.”

Was that a moment of vulnerable honesty he’d spotted?

He buried his face in her hair for a moment, the scent of jasmine filling his lungs. The thought of what could have happened, of losing her—no, he couldn’t bear it. “Why didn’t you tell me you can’t ride?”

She twisted to face him, her gaze meeting his. “I didn’t think there was much to it. Besides, it’s not that I can’t ride…it’s just that I haven’t ridden in years.”

“How many years?”

She hesitated. “Twelve. Maybe thirteen.”

“Thirteen years!” By Jove! That’s… horrifying . “You could have been seriously hurt.”

She shrugged, the motion causing her to rub against him, sparking all sorts of sensations. “I got on the horse. I sat. How hard could it be?”

Thomas groaned. “You have to sit astride properly.” He guided her to lean forward slightly, his hands shifting her position. She stiffened, still tense with fear—or perhaps, he dared hope, from his proximity.

She nodded.

He rested his chin briefly on her shoulder. “Relax your grip on the reins,” he murmured, covering her hands to show her how to hold them without strangling the leather. “Feel the horse’s rhythm. She’s calm now, so should we be.”

But calm was the last thing he felt with Ashley’s body pressed against his. His crotch tightened painfully. “You’re doing wonderfully,” he said, adjusting her leg position so she was balanced more securely. Her body fit perfectly onto his.

Ashley scoffed, but there was a smile in her voice. “I’m practically sitting in your lap.”

“That, too,” he teased. “I’ll teach you the rest.”

That didn’t come out right. “Riding, I mean.”

“And the rest?” She turned her head, and her eyes met his for a flicker of a second.

Thomas swallowed hard. “Anything,” he croaked.

She snorted. “It’s rather…distracting.”

Thomas grinned. Oh, it was. All thoughts of his earlier frustrations vanished as they rode together, their bodies moving in sync with the horse. He hadn’t just saved her from a fall; he had somehow fallen himself—hard and fast. He didn’t think he could ever return to a life without her.

She shifted against him again. Thomas pinched his eyes shut for a moment as they rode toward a patch of woodlands in the distance. The sun filtered through the trees, dappling their path with soft shadows. Shade, he needed that cool air.

As they approached a cluster of tall oaks, he gently squeezed the mare’s sides. “Easy now,” he murmured, though his words were more for himself than the horse.

“Are you speaking to me?” she asked, and he tensed when she leaned back against him slightly to cast a quick glance his way. Every time she did that his heart leapt.

He chuckled. “I meant the horse, but it applies to you too. We’ll stop in the shade.”

Following his lead, Ashley held the reins and guided the mare toward the trees. Thomas placed his hands on her thighs, ready for anything. She shifted in response, her body molding against his as her skirts hiked up even more, revealing more of her legs.

“Hah! We are here!” Ashley’s voice held a note of triumph as the mare finally eased to a slow walk. His pulse raced at the excitement that lit her face as she turned to him again. His arms encircled her, fingers lightly resting on her waist.

“We are.”

Her eyes dropped to his lips, and Thomas felt the beat in his chest start to hammer. He couldn’t help himself. If that wasn’t an invitation, he didn’t know what was. Her lips so close, her breath feathering over his chin, and he captured them in a heart-thundering kiss.

The world around Thomas seemed to still.

He brushed her lips—a gentle exploration at first, a question posed and answered with equal softness, a tentative warmth that coaxed an answering flutter deep inside. But as her lips parted slightly, the kiss deepened, grew more urgent. Thomas’s hand moved from her waist to cradle her neck, and he ventured further, fingers threading through her hair, securing her to him as if afraid she might slip away.

So sweet.

His hands, previously a shield around her waist, now became agents of a different kind of care, one that sought connection and intimacy.

The air around them was charged with the electricity of their bodies, every sense heightened. The scent of her hair, a mix of jasmine and the fresh, earthy outdoors, filled his nostrils, anchoring him to her in a way he couldn’t even begin to understand, but neither did he want to. He just wanted more.

The sensation of her lips sent jolts of pleasure through him, as if she were lighting him on fire, a warmth that dwarfed the sun’s rays on his skin. Her taste was an elixir that promised endless discoveries. The world outside their embrace ceased to exist; there was only the steady shift of the mare beneath them, the breeze stirring the leaves, and the quiet echoes of their shared breath.

Yet, he slowly relinquished her lips.

Thomas sensed something profound had shifted between them. This kiss was not just an expression of desire, but a declaration, a forging of a bond that neither time nor circumstance could easily unravel.

He was unraveling.

At a speed much faster than any horse on the race field.

Thomas took the reins from her, his fingers brushing hers, slowing Lady Catrina to a halt. Dismounting, his focus shifted entirely to Ashley. Her eyes followed his every move, lips swollen, cheeks flushed—everything about her begged for the kiss to continue.

“Why did we stop?”

“I thought we could use a reprieve.” He certainly could. The kiss had nearly undone him.

She gave a faint nod, and his hands wrapped around her waist, the touch reverent, as if he were holding something far more precious than he’d ever known. With gentle care, he lifted her down, her body melting against him for the briefest of moments, as if his arms were the only place she belonged.

When her feet met the ground, the space between them felt fragile, neither willing to step away. Thomas’s hands lingered on her waist. Only when he was sure she stood steady on the soft moss did he finally pull back, though the warmth of her remained imprinted on his palms. “How are you feeling?”

“Breathless.”

He smiled, feeling much the same. He moved to secure the horses to the closest tree, his own having followed them. Returning to her, he offered his hand. “Shall we take a stroll?”

Her hand slipped into his, her fingers intertwining with his as though they’d done it a thousand times before. As though they’d always known the way. Maybe they had. He almost laughed at the thought. He couldn’t deny that he was a sentimental man, but with her, it seemed, his sentimentality reached unprecedented heights.

Leading her toward a grand oak, he tugged at the collar of his shirt.

“Do you enjoy walks in nature?” she asked as they approached the tree’s sturdy base.

“Of course. Don’t you?”

She wrinkled her nose slightly. “It’s not the nature I mind, but the insects that come with it.”

He chuckled, stealing a glance at her. “They are just bugs. They are everywhere, even indoors.”

“Still…there are fewer indoors.”

His thumb brushed lightly over the back of her hand, a casual gesture that sent sparks up his arm. “I’ll do my best to keep them away from you.”

She scoffed. “You think rather highly of yourself if you believe you can swat away every bug that comes my way.”

“I do. Just like with mice in haylofts.”

She arched a brow. “Are you sure that’s within your power, oh gallant bug-slayer?”

He grinned, stepping closer to guide her to lean against the tree’s rough bark. “I hope so, because I don’t want to leave yet. Trying is better than not trying at all.”

Her gaze softened, amusement flickering in her eyes as she leaned back against the sturdy oak. “Then I suppose I’ll have to put up with your heroics a little longer.”

“In that case,” he murmured, stepping into her space again, his hand sliding up to rest just above her waist, “I’ll try not to disappoint.”

“I have a feeling,” she whispered, “disappointment isn’t your specialty.”

Thomas glanced at her lips again, fighting the urge to close the space between them. Every nerve in his body hummed with the temptation to kiss her, to pull her close and abandon all caution.

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with mischief. “You’re thinking too much.” Her teasing tone did nothing to calm the fire in his chest.

He laughed softly, though it came out rougher than intended. “And you think not enough.”

She tilted her head, a smile playing on her lips. “What’s wrong with thinking a little less?”

His heart pounded at the challenge, a thrill running through him. She was dangerous. “Careful,” he warned, his fingers twitching. “You may be shocked at what happens if I stop thinking.”

But even as he said the words, he knew he was dangerously close to doing just that. He didn’t want to think anymore.

And by the look in her eyes, he wasn’t the only one.

With a deep breath, he forced himself to take a step back, the pull between them almost unbearable. “Let’s walk some more before I forget myself entirely.”

He’d rather not ravage his intended in the woods where bugs reigned supreme.

Although, he wouldn’t mind.