Page 47 of Unmasking the Earl

“Very little. I had a pony when I was small, and we do have a horse, Hannibal, at home, but as he was the one who threw Papa, no one has felt like riding him since.”

“You didn’t have the animal destroyed?” he asked hopefully.

“Oh no, we would never do that. It was Papa’s mistake, not Hannibal’s.”

“Good. I can’t abide to see a horse punished,” he said with feeling.

“Nor can I.”

They walked a few paces farther in comfortable silence. The hay fields had given way to green wheat, its stems long and sturdy, the ears nodding and billowing gently as the breeze whispered through them.

He smiled over at her. “But someone must ride Hannibal soon,” he said. “Or he will be spoiled.”

“Papa says he’ll do it himself when his legs are stronger.”

Ned nodded approvingly. “He sounds a brave man.”

“Stubborn and determined, rather.”

Just like his daughter.

“Perhaps I should come by and ride him for you a few times,” Ned suggested. “Just to remind him of the feel of a man on his back.”

Cassie paused and looked him up and down, gauging his size.

He felt a stirring at her close perusal.

“I think he is probably high enough to take you. But he has a soft mouth.”

“I can cope quite nicely with a soft mouth,” he replied and couldn’t help but allow his gaze to stray to hers.

A delicate pink color blossomed in her cheeks before she turned her head aside. Damn that bonnet she was wearing! Every time she turned away from him, it hid her face. He wanted to see her.

“Aren’t you too hot in that bonnet?”

“A broad straw hat might be better, but not quite the fashion,” she said, chuckling.

Suddenly, she came to a halt, glancing around. “This part of the road has not been very well maintained. I wonder why.”

“Different landowner?” Ned suggested, coming to a stop beside her.

A sizeable puddle lay before them, glinting in the summer light and attracting the interest of a large dragonfly, along with several flying things which looked as if they might bite. He didn’t care for biting things. Particularly not since his hours in the cell.

As he stepped forward to wade through the water, her hand on his arm brought him up short. “I can’t possibly walk through that. Let me run back and get my boots.”

“Don’t be silly,” he said automatically. “I’ll carry you over.”

She backed away. “Oh no, I couldn’t.”

He turned and regarded her, his lip curving. “Miss Blythe,” he said, “I would never have taken you for a coward.”

Her chin lifted. “No, I meant I can just squeeze around the edge.”

He looked over to where the verge met an overgrown hedgerow. “And pull your gown to pieces on the brambles there? No, I insist.”

He gave her no time to evade him. She was in his arms, surprised and utterly delectable, in a matter of moments.

This was better. He could see her face now. The urge to strip the bonnet from her head and nuzzle against the silk of her hair was almost overpowering.