The Earl's Entanglement (Border Series Book 5)(17)

He turned his head just slightly to gauge her position. She was gaining on him. Could she possibly overtake him again?

Alas, not today. He reached the edge of the woods and dismounted in what looked like one fluid motion. She reached him and did the same, pulling her hood back above her head with one hand and keeping the horse’s reins wrapped up in the other.

“How did you do that?” she said, referring to his dismount.

“How did you?” he asked.

Training, of course.

Garrick pulled off his helmet and led his horse into the thicket. As they walked, the dimming sunlight began to fade, the canopy of the trees hastening the day’s descent into semi-darkness. A lone bird called to them, or perhaps to his family. When Garrick moved off the road and tied his horse to a tree, she did the same. He reached into his saddlebag, pulled out a handful of oats, and divided it between the horses, who promptly ignored their handlers.

“Where did you learn to ride like that?”

She hadn’t expected the admiration in his voice. Anger, perhaps. But not admiration.

“My youngest brother. And my twin. He was born with the ‘gift,’ as Eddard calls it.”

“And it seems you were as well.”

Emma’s heart thudded. The same awareness of him that had assaulted her in the stables at Kenshire was present now.

“Thank you.”

Sara had taught her to accept a compliment, a task that seemed simple but often felt daunting. “Where are your men?”

They listened for the sound of approaching horses, but the others were still too far for them to hear their approach.

“Coming along shortly, I’d imagine.”

Emma wrapped her cloak more tightly around her. “What is our destination for this evening?”

Garrick’s tentative smile continued to grow. “I’m surprised you’ve not asked before now.”

Emma shrugged. “You are an earl. And Sara’s friend,” she said.

“What does that have to do—”

“Making decisions comes naturally to you. And if Sara trusts you, I do as well. So I hadn’t thought to question our destination before now.”

Only, it was indeed getting quite cold. “So where are we going?”

He didn’t answer. And from the way Garrick was looking at her now, she wasn’t at all sure she wanted him to. She’d been looked at this way before. As Geoffrey often saw fit to point out, more than one suitor had traveled to Kenshire to woo her. Some had been invited; most had not. All had a similar look about them, but none of the others had made her chest pinch like this. None of the others had made her wonder what they were thinking.

What did he see when he looked at her?

When she looked at him, she saw power. And strength. Too much so.

“Carharm Abbey.”

Emma wasn’t sure why she took a step toward him. It was as if a hand splayed against her back and pushed her forward. This was the same inexplicable draw she’d felt to him since the beginning.

“Oh.” Carharm, on the English side of the border, was a sensible choice for shelter for the night.

She stopped, but he took a step toward her this time. And then another. When he was but an arm’s length from her, Garrick took off his cloak for the second time since she’d met him.

“You’re cold.”

She opened her mouth to answer, to insist that he keep his cloak, for surely he was cold too, but no sound came out.

Emma swallowed as he reached behind her to mimic the same actions he’d taken in the stable. But this time, when his gloved hands moved to fasten the clasp at her neck, he was successful on the first attempt.

“Nay, my lord, you mustn’t.” She finally remembered to protest. “Garrick . . .”

He didn’t move away from her. Emma took in a long, icy breath, bent her head back and locked her eyes with his. It was there. That pull, an undeniable force that compelled her to him.

“Garrick,” she repeated, and when his lips parted, she knew.

He was going to kiss her.

Blast it . . . she couldn’t breathe.

And then the ground began to rumble beneath their feet. Garrick stepped away from her, and though she was wrapped in no fewer than two cloaks, she was even colder than she’d been before.

With a final glance at her, he moved to his horse, opened the saddlebag, and took out another cloak. The heather gray material with dark green lines looked more like a blanket than a garment made for keeping warm. Once wrapped up in it, he took out a circular clasp and fastened it about his neck.

Had she wanted to avert her eyes, Emma would have been unequal to the task. Her sister-in-law was fond of telling her she could do anything she liked—run a manor, ride her horse faster than any man. Emma had begun to believe it . . . until now.

For even if the king himself had ordered her to look away from Garrick Helmsley at this moment, she could not have done it. When he turned to her, she did not look away. Perhaps she should have. Instead, Emma watched as he spoke to one of his men. She watched him walk toward her and vaguely heard his request to assist her. Laden with two cloaks, one quite large and definitely too long, she accepted his offer.

And for the remainder of the day, Emma could think of nothing other than the moment before his men had arrived. The moment when Garrick had stood beside her, his lips parting slightly in a gesture that left no uncertainty.