Angel in Scarlet (Bound and Determined #4)(40)

Miss Pratcher held his eyes for a moment, understanding what he wanted and knowing that it did stretch her role as chaperone. He could see her desire for a true ride struggle with her duties.

“I do promise, on my word as a gentleman, to do nothing that would in any way diminish your sense of duty and obligation. We will do nothing but let our horses walk while we talk.”

“And you will keep your horses on the main path?”

“Yes. I may have many faults, but dishonesty has never been one of them.”

“And you are an expert at avoiding anything scandalous, are you not, Lord Colton?”

Again, he felt that Miss Pratcher was saying far more than her mere words conveyed. “I am always honorable.”

“I will ride ahead, then, but I will be back frequently to check—and if at any point you are not in plain sight…” She let her words trail off.

“I understand completely.”

Miss Pratcher nodded once and spurred her gelding.

“Do you think you are?” Angela asked.

“What?” He slowed his horse to come beside her.

“Honorable. Are you always honorable?”

“I try.”

“That is not the same.”

“It is the best any of us can do.”

“And was bringing Granderson honorable?”

Now, that was an easy answer. “Most definitely. I was only trying to get you to back down. I have already explained—and you sensed it anyway.” He knew he sounded exasperated.

“If you were trying to get me to stop, you should just have refused to play.”

“I believe I did and you didn’t. And we already had this conversation.”

“But, then, you had entered the game at the ball. I certainly did not believe you were disinterested after that.”

“And hence my dilemma. It seemed easier to convince you that you did not wish to play than to convince you that I did not.”

Her cheeks flushed becomingly, although perhaps that was the early-morning chill. “I would admit that I seldom change my mind once I have formed an opinion.”

He could do nothing but raise a brow in mocking agreement.

“The problem is,” she continued, “I am so often right.”

He held his expression.

“Well, I am. And I was not wrong in this instance. Well, actually in either instance.”

He had to suppress a smile as a memory of a similar conversation from months ago played through his mind. He could hear Angela insisting that steam locomotives were the way of the future. She’d gone on for what felt like hours, not giving him a chance to agree—which he did. And when he’d dared to mention canals, she’d glared at him, a spark of fire in her eyes. And then she’d laughed, full-bodied and deep from the belly. She’d never been afraid to laugh at herself and knew her own weaknesses well.

He nodded for her to continue, still not speaking, lost in his memory.

“I was correct that you did have feelings for me in the beginning. I am still not clear why you chose to end that relationship, and I am correct that you enjoyed what happened between us both at the ball and at Madame Rouge’s. It was rather unmistakable at Madame Rouge’s.”

He forced his attention back. He did suppose that was undeniable. He just didn’t understand why they needed to discuss it to death—but that was Angela, and he would indulge her, at least for another moment or two. “I must plead guilty to the latter, but I do not see why you are so sure of the former. I do not believe I have mentioned feelings.”

That made her smile. “I can only go by what my eyes and my heart tell me. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I am not talking about love or other tender emotions. I merely think that you liked me then and you like me now. I believe it is why you have tried to protect me from myself rather than allow me to suffer the cost of my own foolishness. And I think—”

“You do like to talk,” he said with a grin, prodding his horse to a slightly faster pace. She would find it hard to talk while bouncing at a trot. He glanced back. And she did bounce, most delightfully. He wasn’t sure he’d ever quite appreciated the joy of a hard trot before. Even through the stiff wool of her jacket, movement was unmistakable. And his man’s mind instantly had her nude and astride—not a horse.





Chapter 11


Blast. She was going to lose a tooth. Or two. Or ten. Why was Colton moving at such a pace? He knew she did not like to ride. He was definitely punishing her, although for what she was not sure. She had only spoken the truth.

Understanding dawned.

He did not like the truth. He did not wish to deny it verbally, but he did not want to accept it either.

He did like her. He still liked her.

He might not want to like her, but he did; that was why he didn’t wish to answer her questions, didn’t wish to examine his feelings.

A warmth grew in her chest, even as other parts of her felt ready to fly off.

And then another thought came to her.

She pulled back on the reins, bringing the mare to a smooth walk. LadyBelle was more than pleased to slow and instantly relaxed beneath her. She smiled to herself. Ignoring the man ahead, she enjoyed the beauty of the day, concentrating on the way the early-morning sun formed dappled patterns through the multicolored leaves, admiring the brightly hued chrysanthemums. Guiding LadyBelle away from a display of dark-purple cabbages, in which the mare was showing a non-aesthetic interest, Angela allowed her to lower her head and munch at some slightly longer grass at the edge of the path.