Page 6 of Almost a Countess

He turned his head and said over hisshoulder, “Are ye seated securely?”

“I seem to be.” Eventhough it felt intensely odd to have her legs on either side ofGretchen, she had to admit she was much more evenly balanced thanshe’d ever been riding in a sidesaddle and much less likely tofall.

“Noo, take yer foot fromthe stirrup sae I can guide the horse.”

An even odder sensation overcame heras he pushed her foot from the stirrup, and she had no purchase atall. “I’m going to fall!”

“Put yer arms around mywaist.”

“I beg your pardon?” Dorashrank from the figure sitting mere inches from her. “I don’t knowyou well enough to do any such thing.”

He shrugged as he loosed the reins andgathered them into his hands. “Suit yerself, but I fear when thehorse begins tae move, ye’re going tae topple off her back if ye’reno’ holding ontae something.” With a cluck of his tongue, hestarted Gretchen at a walk alongside the river. “And from yerposition, I’m the only thing available.”

She could hear the smile in his voiceand glared at the back of his head. “I’ll be fine.” At least shehoped so.

“Which way?” He turned hishead, scanning the area again.

“Follow the creek forabout two miles. It will lead to a road that fronts the manorhouse.” Used to holding the reins, Dora wanted to put her handssomewhere, anywhere save around the man’s waist, and finally optedfor resting them on her thighs. “I don’t think—”

“Hang on.” The man made asmall movement with his knee, and Gretchen broke into acanter.

With a gasp, Dora threw her armsaround the stranger and met hard muscle and lean flesh. The warmthhis touch generated in her was astounding. As though the mancontained a smoldering fire within him, first her arms then hertorso, and finally a secret place deep within her caught the blazehe generated. She only hoped she wouldn’t be incinerated by theheat by the time they reached home.

Chapter 3

As her fear of falling off the horsewaned, Dora became more and more aware of the very male presenceseated before her. No trace of softness, as far as she couldtell—his body seemed made of all hard angles. A rather pungentaroma assailed her nose, not completely unpleasant for it mostlyspoke of the reedy creek water. There was also an underlying hintof a masculine scent she wasn’t familiar with at all, although sheliked it nevertheless.

Dora sighed, her cheek resting on thestill-soaked shoulder of the man’s jacket. She might have behavedvery foolishly taking him back to the house, but she couldn’t haveabandoned him to the soldiers. Not after all she’d heard of them.Not with the scrapes and bruises marring his face. And not afterhe’d been willing to let her go, despite all that.

Undoubtedly, the soldiers would comelooking for him either this evening or in the morning at thelatest. What she would tell them she had no idea. Would she simplyturn the man over to them or continue to give him sanctuary? Itwould help to know what he’d actually done. She found it hard tobelieve they arrested him for wearing a kilt. Surely the Britisharmy didn’t care how a man dressed.

Still, they had arrested him forsomething. From the look of him, scratched, cut, andbruised, he’d put up quite a fight. But what had he reallydone?

She straightened, loosening her gripon the man’s waist. Not that she could actually get away from himat this juncture. She could, however, learn something about him.“I’m afraid I neglected to ask your name earlier, sir.” He didn’tanswer, and his silence irked her to no end. “Can I have your nameplease, sir?”

Still no answer.

Dora’s patience began to fray. Shepoked his shoulder. “Didn’t you hear me?”

Suddenly, the man’s head lolledbackward, almost butting her in the head. Dear God, had he fainted?Or was he dead? And on a cantering horse.

Energy shot through Dora’s veins. Shesat straighter, calculating what she needed to do to bring theanimal to a halt before Gretchen discovered no one was minding thereins and took off across the field at a dead run.

Trying to stem the panic that cloggedher throat, Dora made herself let go of her grip on the strangercompletely, although she compensated by clutching him with her armsto keep him from falling. Afraid to move her head to either side tosee the reins, she instead slid her hands down his arms until herfingers touched his, the ribbons still gripped in hisfists.

Gently, so as not to startle Gretchen,she drew the leather straps from his fingers, and a measure of calmdescended on her to be back in control again with the reins firmlyin her hands. Pulling on them steadily, Dora slowed Gretchen to atrot then at last to a walk. Breathing easier, she returned herattention to the unconscious man. Unfortunately, she could donothing for him until they reached Bromley. Hopefully, he’d onlyfainted.

Her friend and sister-in-law JudithHarper had sustained a blow to the head that had rendered herinsensible for more than four months. Of course, Judith’s wound hadresulted in her immediate incapacitation. That was not the casehere. However, Dora couldn’t help but wonder if this stranger hadlapsed into a stupor from which he wouldn’t recover for days oreven months. She could only pray not, keep a steady hand on thereins, and get them home quickly.

The man now leaned full back againsther, making it more difficult to manage the horse. She longed togallop Gretchen all the way home but feared the stranger would fallfrom the horse if she went at more than a fast walk. That wouldonly exacerbate his wounds and force her to abandon him and ridelike the wind for help as she wouldn’t be able to hoist him back uponto the horse. She increased the pressure of her arms to anchorhim more firmly, praying he would stay put. Then she urged Gretcheninto a swift walk.

After what seemed an age, the road toBromley came into view. Dora’s spirits rose. She sat straighter andurged the horse almost to a trot. They were less than a mile fromher door, and Dora longed for the welcoming sight of her butler andgroom. The servants would likely be shocked, but she believed theywere loyal to her. They’d give this unexpected guest help in anyway they could, no matter if it flouted the proprieties.

Wearily, she turned Gretchen inthrough the familiar brick pillars that stood at the beginning ofthe crushed-shell driveway, a stone lion rampant on either pedestalholding a ball representing the world in their outstretched paws.Four months ago, they had struck fear into her heart at the thoughtof her solitary life to come. Now they were a most welcome sight.Down the driveway…a few more yards… Safe.

“Hanson,” she called,hoping he was within earshot. The stranger hadn’t regainedconsciousness. He sagged against her still, increasingly heavy, butthat uncomfortable position allowed her to feel his chest rise andfall, assuring her he wasn’t dead. She hoped she could keep himthat way. “Hanson!”

Her second, louder and more urgent,call brought not only her butler to the door, but Alfred, thecoachman-groom, at a run from the stable. “Alfred, Hanson, thankGod. Grab him before he falls to the ground.”