Page 13 of My Lord Rogue
The touch was feather-light, but it exhilarated her. She jerked away, but not before a jolt of embarrassment made her breath catch.
“You presume too much, sir,” she hissed, her cheeks burning. “One might think you believed your own lies.”
He met her glare with an infuriating calm. “Not lies, my dear Theo. Merely… creative truths. And if you dislike them, you’re free to invent your own.” He withdrew his hand, but the ghost of the touch lingered.
Lady Amelia, seeing herself bested, pursed her lips. “Some ladies might find such familiarity unseemly.”
Theo could have kissed her for the rescue, if only the words had not come laced with venom.
“I assure you,” Theo said, “my acquaintance with Baron Teddington is more than sufficient to withstand a stray hair or two.”
The older men, catching the tail of the exchange, chuckled. “Country air makes everyone bold,” said one.
Teddy took the opportunity to lean in again. “You know, I do remember that picnic by the lake. You wore a blue ribbon, just like today.”
She stared at him, thunderstruck as she recalled just such a picnic. It was a detail from her own childhood—before Charles, before loss, before the walls had closed around her.
He saw the effect, and his smile softened—just a touch. “I see I’ve surprised you,” he murmured.
Theo swallowed, unable to find her footing. She turned away, eyes on the shifting shadows beneath the trees.
The party resumed its ride, Lady Amelia keeping a careful distance now. The others, sensing the undercurrents, began to talk more loudly, their laughter brittle and insistent. But Theo hardly heard them.
She let the grey mare fall back from the group, content to watch the bobbing plumes and bright coats from behind. The woods closed in, the air thickening as the sun struggled overhead. She shivered, from cold or from something else.
Teddy kept pace with her, silent for once. She risked a glance and found him watching her with an expression unreadable—neither amused nor triumphant, but almost, impossibly, sad.
She straightened her back, pulled the blue sash tight around her waist, and forced herself to look ahead. The world was shifting, as it always did, but she would not give ground.
Let him chase, if he wished. She would not be caught so easily.
She let herself relax into the rhythm, the slow roll of hoofbeats, the shift and breath of the horse beneath her, the way the wet air beaded on her lashes and made her shiver, just slightly, in her habit. It would have been easy, here, to lose herself. She nearly did—until she caught the heavy tread of Teddy’s bay, shadowing her from behind. When she glanced back, he was barely a length away, the lines of his body so casual it could only have been practiced.
“You said you enjoyed solitude,” he called, voice pitched so only she would hear. “But I think you just enjoy being the first to notice what everyone else has missed.”
She made a show of ignoring him, but the words threaded themselves through her, hot and close. Her mare stumbled slightly at a rut, and Teddy drew up alongside, the bay’s broad chest crowding the path until she could feel the animal’s heat and the crackle of its dark, restless energy.
They pulled up at a clearing, riders fanning out in twos and threes, some already dismounting to stretch their legs and sip from their flasks. Teddy swung down and, before she could protest, he grasped her waist and lifted her down. His palms lingered, and for a moment she was painfully aware of the entire world shrinking to the space between them.
“Thank you,” she said, voice brittle.
He stepped closer, not letting go. She saw the flecks of gold in his eyes, the slow, deliberate arc of his smile.
“You’re even more beautiful in the morning light than I imagined when I would read your letters,” he said, low and direct.
She recoiled, but only mentally. Her body was rooted, every cell tuned to the weight of his gaze. “You’re relentless,” she whispered.
He shrugged again. “I told you. I’m only as real as you want me to be.” He reached up—too familiar, too easy—and brushed a stray blonde curl from her brow, his fingers lingering a fraction too long. The gesture was simple, but it undid her.
A flush started at her throat and carried, hot and mortifying, up to her cheeks. She tried to retort, to swat away his hand and his words, but in that instant her mind went blank, she could only stare at the ground, the neat black boots on the trampled grass.
Lady Amelia arrived, perfectly timed, her face an exquisite mask of concern. “Are you quite well, Lady Pattishall? You look a touch flushed.”
Theo summoned all the steel she could find. “Just the ride, I think. Or perhaps the air.”
Amelia’s gaze flicked from Theo to Teddy, weighing, calculating. “I hope it’s not too much for you,” she said, with a hint of false sweetness. “Some of us are more accustomed to such exertion than others.”
Theo managed a thin smile. “Thank you for your concern, but I assure you I’m quite capable.”