Always a Maiden (The Belles of Beak Street #5)(41)

In the past week and a half, he’d regretted that he hadn’t seen her inside. Hadn’t demanded an audience with her father. But he wanted her to make her choice freely, without undue pressure. He wanted to persuade her, but with the knowledge that she could be herself with him. He wouldn’t care if she were perfectly behaved every minute. With him, she could relax and enjoy what life offered without fear of being thought improper.

He handed over the rest of the bribe to the attendant who ushered them inside and locked the gate behind them. The gates would be opened again before dawn, which would be time for them to depart.

The lamps lining the row had mostly burned out, but a few remained lit.

“Are you ready?” he asked her as he removed the lead line between the horses. He decided against tying his well-behaved gelding but lashed the mare to the wooden rail lining Rotten Row.

She cast a look to the side. She’d walked to the far rail and leaned against it as if she wanted to get as much distance from the horses as possible. He didn’t miss her tension, though.

So he crossed to her, put his hand to her neck, and—disregarding her flinch—he bent toward her. “Did you think I meant ready to ride?”

Her eyes widened. In the middle of her nod, he brushed his lips against hers.

Her arms went around his neck with more enthusiasm than he’d expected. Enthusiasm or desperation to avoid riding. Perhaps he was the lesser of two evils. He laughed.

She ducked her head. “You are laughing at me.”

His laugh was as much relief as anything. “Either you really don’t want to ride, or you want to be kissed as much as I want to kiss you.”

“Do you really?” she asked his waistcoat then plucked at his lapel. Her voice was a thin whisper. “Want to kiss me, that is?”

“I think about kissing you all the time,” he answered. But he shouldn’t be kissing her. He was bound and determined to do this the right way. He’d spent too many years where he only saw women as objects of his desire. They were to be flirted with, seduced, and bade adieu when his desire waned.

With Susanah, he wanted her—wanted her with a bone-deep ache that he couldn’t imagine would ever subside. But more than that, he wanted her to let him into the secret corners of her mind. He wanted more than the physical pleasure. He wanted her to care about him, and he wanted to make her happy. He tilted up her chin. “I wonder what you are doing. I worry that you are all right. Dare I hope that you think about me throughout your day?”

She shook her head negatively. “I cannot. My mother would know.” She looked off to the side. “I think about my embroidery and make patterns in my mind.”

“Do you think about me at night, then? Dream about me, too?” he teased, but he held his breath as he waited for her answer.

“Even if I did, I could never admit it. And I don’t see how it would help my situation.” Her chin dipped again as if she didn’t want to meet his eyes.

Well, he supposed he shouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t ready for an answer he didn’t want to hear. Then again, there was something subdued about her, and he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Not that she was ever entirely animated. And her answers weren’t exactly leaning in the direction he wanted. If she could so easily dismiss thoughts of him…

“We should ride soon before I lose my nerve,” she said.

Was she pensive just because of the horses? In any case, he was not certain if she had any regard for him. She was attracted to him—although she didn’t always understand what that meant—but he didn’t know if there was anything deeper than that. His throat was dry as he searched her face for clues that she might welcome his suit—that she wanted him.

She was looking at the horses. “I don’t suppose I will ever have a better opportunity to face down my fear of riding.”

“Well, let’s get this over with.” When he asked her to marry him, he didn’t want her concentration divided. Likely she would be fretting about riding until she actually did it and proved to herself there was nothing to fear. “Then we’ll eat and talk.”

She gave a brief nod and steeled herself.

He led her to the mare, bent and laced his fingers together for her to put her foot in. Once her boot was in his hands, he boosted her up to the mare’s back. “I’ll walk beside you until you are comfortable.”

He helped her arrange her leg over the pommel and set her foot into the stirrup. He ignored her tremors as he handed her the reins. The mare nickered and sidestepped.

Susanah gasped and bent forward as if to grab the horse’s mane.

“It’s all right,” he said to both the mare and Susanah. He put one hand just above her knee and the other behind her bottom on the back of the saddle. “She’s just getting used to you.” Which could have been to either of them, although he made eye contact with Susanah, not the horse.

She straightened, and he suggested she give the mare a nudge when she was ready. Her expression determined, Susanah did as he said.

He walked alongside her and the mare, his own horse trudging along behind them. It didn’t take long to see that Susanah knew how to ride. She might be rusty, and a bit heavy-handed, but she was competent, at least with a lazy walk.

He rubbed her leg to soothe her but found he enjoyed the slender feel of her thigh far more than he should. He’d been prepared to help her adjust how she sat, but she didn’t need it. “You’ll want to loosen the reins a little. Most horses will toss their head if you’re pulling too hard.”