Page 72 of The Earl’s Forbidden Temptation

“Before we do, if I know that stubborn creature.”

There was no time to dwell upon it. The rain, which had begun as an inconvenience, had already become a torrent. Sebastian turned to his own gelding. “I cannot permit you to ride alone in this weather.”

She looked from the horse to him, uncertainty mingling with trust. “What would you have me do?”

He answered by placing his hands around her waist. Her startled gasp was nearly lost beneath the drumming rain, but he felt the sudden tension that moved through her beneath his palms.

“Forgive me, Miss Whitley,” he murmured.

“That sounds ominous.”

Before she could question him further, he lifted her as though she weighed no more than one of her younger sisters and settled her astride his saddle rather than sideways. The heavy folds of her riding habit parted over the gelding’s broad back and drew high enough to reveal her booted calves. The vivid blush that stole across her face was impossible to miss even beneath the grey light of the storm.

“I fear I have shocked you.”

“Only a little,” she said, glancing helplessly at the scandalous arrangement of her skirts before lifting her gaze to his.

“Then necessity may answer for the remainder of the offense.”

“Your remorse is not particularly convincing, my lord.”

“That is because necessity has long enjoyed the privilege of excusing impropriety.”

Sebastian placed one boot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle behind her. There was scarcely room for propriety between them. Her back settled against his chest, the damp wool of her habit unable to conceal the warmth of her body, while his thighs bracketed hers and his arms closed around her to gather the reins. When a violent gust swept across the clearing, she reached instinctively for the pommel and pressed more firmly into him. Every muscle in his body tightened. He became far more aware of the woman held between his arms than of the rain driving through his coat.

He gathered the reins before urging the gelding into motion.

“I am not taking us back to the main house.”

She turned her head, bringing her cheek perilously close to his mouth. “Why not?”

“The house is too far, and the wind is worsening by the minute. We would be half-frozen before we reached it.”

Darcy glanced toward the rain sweeping across the hills. “Where shall we go?”

“There is a keeper’s cottage scarcely five minutes from here. We shall wait there until the storm passes.”

She offered no objection.

Sebastian pressed his heels lightly against the gelding’s sides, and the horse surged forward through the rain, carrying them swiftly across the familiar paths toward the little stone cottage that had offered shelter to generations of gamekeepers. When they reached the cottage, Sebastian dismounted and helped her down.

“Go inside. The door should be open.”

She gathered her sodden skirts and hurried toward the cottage while he led the gelding to the small barn behind it. After settling the horse beneath shelter, Sebastian strode back through the driving rain, the chill now biting through his coat and into his skin. As he pushed open the cottage door, Sebastian finally acknowledged the thought that had pressed relentlessly against his awareness from the moment he chose to seek refuge there. For however long the storm pleased, he would be alone in a small room with a woman he desired with fierce and increasingly unmanageable intensity, a woman who, unless his imagination had become dangerously unreliable, looked at him as though she was equally tempted to forget every sensible restraint she possessed.

Bloody hell.

CHAPTER 24

Darcy pressed a hand to her chest, her breath uneven from their dash through the storm. She was alone in the cottage with the earl, and the first thought to seize her when he came through the door was how deliciously warm they might become beneath the same blankets. She would prefer that they wore nothing at all.

“Well,” she said, glancing down at her thoroughly soaked gown, “this is a fine state in which to be found.”

Sebastian shrugged out of his coat, equally drenched, and set it aside before crossing to the hearth. “We are safe here.”

“I should hope so,” she returned, watching as he knelt and arranged the kindling with practiced ease. “I confess, I did not expect a man of your stature to possess such domestic talents.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her, a hint of something wry touching his mouth. “My father believed I should know how to manage myself in any circumstance.”