Page 25 of The Rules of Matrimony (The Matchmaking Mamas #4)

“You did well, Amie.” Ian handed his reins to the groom and moved to her horse to help her dismount.

“It was Claire who performed well.” She ran her hand down her mare’s neck. “Good girl, Claire.”

“You won’t take any credit? Cantering takes bravery for a woman who previously needed to walk around the pasture.” He held his arms up to her waist.

“Remember, my father only cared about my form.” She set her hands on his shoulders and fell into his hold.

“Your form,” he said, setting her down in front of him, “is perfect.” The last word hung on his lips, lasting an extra beat.

Their eyes met, and he forgot what he was doing. Her form truly was impressive, but it wasn’t her position on a horse he was thinking about right now. He was thinking of the form between his hands—the soft curves he’d tried not to notice but couldn’t help but do so when he was holding them.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome,” he whispered back. Speaking louder than that would chase him back into the reality he had forced them both into, and he was not eager to return there just yet. He wanted to stay in this exact moment, his intrigue heightened and his senses wide awake. It was easy to forget about the rest of the world with Amie so near him.

They stood that way for several long beats, sharing each other’s breath and gazing into each other’s eyes. It wasn’t exactly an embrace but a line they straddled between safety and unknown possibilities. He fingered her smooth habit between his fingers, barely resisting the powerful urge to tug her closer.

She was a breath of fresh air—a tonic for his nerves and a distraction from his problems. She threw herself into messes often enough, but those moments made him forget to be so serious all the time. Being with her helped him see life in a new way—the way she saw it—at a slower pace, where learning was still exciting and people were inherently good. She was genuine and humble. And beautiful. So beautiful.

His heart pounded, and his eyes dropped to admire the curve of her lips. She lifted her chin, waiting for him. He wanted to appease her. To tell her how beautiful she was in that one motion. Hesitation battled desire. Kissing her would mean crossing the line he’d drawn so carefully between them. A line drawn with clear purpose for their own good.

He traced her every feature with his gaze: the slight upturn of her nose, the sprinkle of freckles on her cheeks, and the pull of the small scar above her left brow. When he reached her exquisite eyes, he knew his answer. He let go of her, taking a slow but deliberate step out of her arms. Pretending he could like her for a moment might be acceptable, but that was all he could indulge. He had an entire life he’d set for himself and promises to keep. Promises that protected Amie from him.

His tone came out deep and husky. “Shall we return inside?”

She visibly swallowed, a shy smile touching her lips. “Yes, I’m ready.”

The groom took her horse, and they walked side by side to the house. They said not a word, but a current pulled between them that was difficult to ignore. They made their way up the steps and just before he opened the front door for her, he said, “I will see to my parents while you change.”

Her eyes sparkled in the sun when she turned to answer him. “Thank you.”

Once inside, he walked her to the bottom of the stairs and watched her ascend. He hadn’t noticed he was staring until she turned the corner at the top and left his view. Turning away, he moved toward the drawing room, his footfalls unhurried and methodical. He’d needed that outing with Amie. It reminded him of being with his friends, only far better. It was the kind of enjoyment that only two could share. The fatigue that had weighed on him earlier had dissipated. He felt lighter and easier about every aspect of his life.

His smile came unbidden at the thought of her in his arms, the empty corridor as his witness. He could be attracted to a friend, could he not? Because every part of her intrigued him. He couldn’t study her enough. Not to mention the way his hands fit perfectly around her waist. Wasn’t such a quality deserving of note?

He wouldn’t put himself in a position to be tempted again, but for now, he was choosing to appreciate the wife he’d been blessed with. Content as he had not been in some time, he pushed into the drawing room. A quick view of the room was all it took to have much of his peace of mind flee. Father paced by the window, and Ian’s unflappable mother looked close to tears.

“What is it?” Ian asked, striding into the room.

His father stopped in his tracks. “Are you alone?”

“Yes, Amie is changing.”

“Shut the door behind you. We need to talk.”

Ian returned to the door and closed it, his brow lowering. “Is something wrong?”

Father spoke to the window, his words punctuating like wheels on gravel. “Yes, something is wrong. It’s your wife.”

Mother, strong and confident always, held a handkerchief to her nose.

“Amie?” A sick sensation rushed through him. Was it her mother? Amie would be devastated if anything had happened to her. His mind jumped to that day at the graveyard and Amie’s heartfelt conversation with her father, and Ian’s heart sank further. “Tell me straightaway.”

“I won’t mince words, Ian.” His father folded his arms across his chest and faced him straight on. “I want you to leave her.”