Page 27 of Sir Andrew and the Authoress

“Ride astride, then.”

The scandalizing suggestion was worth seeing her expression. Her eyes widened and her cheeks turned pink. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she half-stammered, half-gasped.

He didn’t laugh. Much. And he stopped when her frown appeared, complete with that single eyebrow raising with disapproval.

“Never fear. I know you are far too prim and proper to consider such a thing.” Andrew shifted as far back as his saddle allowed, which was barely an inch. “Come along, Lady Josephine. You may ride in front of me, and I will ensure you do not fall into the mud.”

All the while, the rain continued to fall. Soaking them slowly, but completely. The scandal of riding double on Honey was unlikely to be noted, given that most would keep indoors in the wet spring weather. They had only to make it up the hill, where no one else had reason to travel.

Josephine came to the same conclusion he did, apparently. She took his hand, and together their efforts saw her seated in the saddle in front of him. If not comfortably, at least efficiently.

Andrew’s left arm went around her back to grasp the reins, his right sleeve brushed her abdomen. He nudged Honey forward, and the three of them started up the hill in relative silence. Josephine held herself stiffly at first, but then her right shoulder leaned into him.

“If you’re cold,” Andrew said as he noted the thin material of her dress, “you can lean in a little closer.”

That made her turn to marble. “Are you suggesting I cuddle you for warmth? Does that sort of thing work with your conquests?”

“Conquests?” He chuckled. “I cannot say I have had many of those. Or any at all, if I am honest. Who put that idea into your head?” Did she think about his romantic life? How strange. He had wondered once or twice about hers over the course of the Season, but she’d never indicated she thought about the noblemen surrounding her, vying for attention. And he’d ignored them. Or made a sport of pointing out their oddities to her in the evenings, after a ball or social visit.

Quite suddenly, he thought on her visit that morning with Mr. Wood.

It seemed odd for Josephine to seek out the new rector. Unless she meant to size him up for something. Surely, no religious concern could send her out on her strange errand and still leave her in a pleasant mood. Pleasant for Josephine, anyway.

“No one suggested you have conquests.” She shrugged, the shoulder touching him rising and falling against his chest. “I made an assumption.”

“An unwise habit,” he murmured, keeping his gaze on the road ahead of them. Ignoring the warmth that grew everywhere they touched. Her shoulder to his chest. The back of her knee to the front of his. His arm along her lower back.

Perhaps failing to ignore those small connecting places was a better description of his state of mind.

“You aren’t much of a flirt, are you?” she asked, her voice quiet. “I cannot recall seeing you flirt with anyone.”

A warning bell rang within his head. “I flirt.” Sometimes. When he met a woman intelligent enough to spar with him. It was only that Josephine was his favorite verbal-fencing partner. Not that he flirted with her. Of course that description wouldn’t fit their interactions.

That wasn’t a productive path for his thoughts to travel. He tried to distract himself with something else.

Had Josephine always been so small? Seated as she was between his arms, he wondered why he had never realized how much they differed in size. Josephine was tall for a woman, but her entire family was somewhat above average in height. And he wasn’t a small man himself. But they had never been this close, where he could note the dainty structure of her wrists and hands, the dip of her waist, the elegant curve of her neck….

“This is terribly awkward.” Josephine’s statement pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts. Spiraling to what, he did not know, nor did he think it a good idea to find out.

It seemed her thoughts had not run as wild as his own. Their unusual proximity hadn’t disturbed her beyond physical discomfort.

As the gentleman, it fell to him to make things better. Even if it was her fault they were in the position in the first place. He cleared his throat. “It would be less awkward if we had a conversation.”

“I doubt it,” Josephine muttered as she leaned a little more into him. Only because—he told himself—of the steep road. “Sir Andrew?”

Ah, they had gone back to proper address, had they? Perhaps that was wise, given their circumstances. “Lady Josephine.”

“How long do you intend to stay at the castle?”

He considered the question a moment before answering honestly. “I hadn’t given it much thought. Simon asked if I would accompany him, and I said yes. I suppose until your parents return from London. Then I will see to my interests in Bytham.”

His family’s ancestral home, old and outdated as it was, needed little of his attention. The rundown building could hardly even be called a castle when compared to places like Clairvoir. His land steward saw to the tenants and farms reasonably well. There wasn’t much for Andrew, as a bachelor, to do in the community.

Josephine cleared her throat. “I suppose you mean to make a nuisance of yourself, where I am concerned, during the entirety of your stay?”

“There you are, assuming things again.”

“So you do not mean to act the part of my shadow?” Archness colored her voice, but maybe a hint of amusement, too.