Chapter 13

13

I an eyed the large beast that towered over his beautiful, delicate Meg. He had promised himself that he wouldn't treat her like so many others did.

It was far too easy to see her as frail, but he knew her to be brave and strong.

So if she said this was what she wanted…

"You're certain you wish to ride him ?" he asked.

Her eyes sparkled with laughter. "Gus is as gentle as they come."

"So you've ridden him before." Relief swelled.

"No," she admitted.

His relief fell flat. He arched a brow, and she tried and failed to hide another smile. The result was an adorable dimple on her right cheek.

"Why do I feel as though your mission is to get me into trouble with your parents?" he asked.

"You?" She feigned shock. "A duke? Never."

He chuckled and sighed at the same time. "Have you ever ridden?"

She pursed her lips. "Before or after the illness?"

"Meg." He drew the word out in warning.

"Oh, all right, no. But I wish to. I imagine having the use of his four legs, and being able to move freely and quickly and?—"

"You will be the death of me." The muttered comment slipped out. But he meant it. At her perplexed look, he added, "I cannot deny you anything, even though I know watching you alone up there is going to give me heart failure."

She tried to smother a smile again and he had the most overwhelming urge to pull her close and kiss her.

He took a step back. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather start with an old mare? Maybe…a pony?"

She laughed.

"Very well. But if you're in any danger?—"

"If I get hurt then we don't have to move on to the next item on my list," she pointed out.

He scowled. "Not amusing."

She giggled.

Blast, it was impossible to keep a scowl in place when she laughed like that.

But his tone was still aggrieved when he added, "Dance lessons? Truly?"

She feigned seriousness. "We agreed, it's only fair. You teach me to ride, and I'll teach you to dance."

His sigh was only partially in earnest. He wasn't relishing the idea of humiliating himself in front of this young lady. But having an excuse to hold her in his arms…

Oh yes, that was most welcome indeed. "Very well. Let's get this first lesson started then."

He was rewarded with a brilliant smile.

Her maid looked on with a grimace of concern as he and a stablehand helped her onto the horse. He couldn't blame her chaperone for being worried, but Meg assured him the woman could be trusted to keep this to herself.

Which was a relief. Her parents would surely disapprove of such activities. His friends' words of warning about her parents' assumptions were never far from his mind.

Truth be told, he had no fear of being forced to marry Meg, since marrying Meg was his greatest desire.

But he meant what he'd said about giving her options.

Even if the mere memory of her and that Everson fellow strolling about the room together still made him want to seek out the hapless man and plant a facer.

He held the reins tightly as he led the horse out of the stables. They walked slowly as she got the feel for it. When she let out a breathless laugh, he looked up, and her smile was more dazzling than the sun.

"How does it feel?" he asked.

"Better than I'd imagined."

A rush of words filled his mind, each more inappropriate than the last.

Why didn't your family allow this years ago?

You are beautiful with the wind in your hair.

If you marry me, I'll take you out riding whenever you wish.

The last sounded more like a plea, even in his head. For a long moment, he didn't trust himself to speak. "We ought to give you more lessons then."

"Truly?"

He smiled up at her. He couldn't not, even though his heart felt as if it might burst at the sheer joy and gratitude in her eyes. "Of course."

How? When? She didn't ask, and he was torn between relief and disappointment.

This facade of courtship couldn't go on forever. And he didn't want it to. But he also didn't want to rush her. After the way their friendship started, he couldn't expect her to return his feelings.

Not yet.

"One day," he said slowly. "One day you'll be such an excellent rider, you'll be galloping across meadows and leaping over streams."

Her smile turned wistful and her eyes grew suspiciously wet. "Oh, I hope so. That sounds marvelous."

"It does, doesn't it?" he murmured.

And oh, how he hoped he'd be at her side to see it.

Two days later, Meg was in his arms. Right where he wanted her.

Of course, he could have done without her mother surreptitiously keeping watch in the corner, or her younger brother's constant interruptions, either.

"One, two, three…one, two, three," she murmured softly. Her lips curved up gently at the edges, and her gaze held his.

But his feet were blastedly slow. Off on each beat.

He stopped their dancing with an irritated sigh.

Her smile broadened. "You're thinking too hard."

"No one has ever accused me of such a thing." His tone was dry, and he made her laugh, as he'd hoped. When she swatted his arm playfully, he couldn't help but laugh as well.

"It's true," she said, her tone all earnest sincerity. "You're thinking about the steps rather than listening to the music."

He stayed quiet. He could argue he was doing neither. If he was distracted, it was by the movement of her lips as she kept count, or the sound of her voice, or the fresh, floral scent of her hair, or the way she fit into his arms like she was meant to live there.

She leaned in to peer up at him and catch his gaze. She kept leaning in until her mother coughed. Loudly.

Her mother had been all too eager to encourage this latest lesson. Though Meg hadn't told her mother that this dance lesson was for his sake. She'd made it seem as though they wished to practice so that at the next ball, she would not make a fool of herself. Or him.

He'd wanted to argue, but Meg had shot him a warning glance, and her mother pinched her lips.

Until Meg added with downcast eyes, "I should not wish to embarrass His Grace as I have in the past."

Her mother sighed, as if in agreement, and rage boiled up in him swift and fierce.

He leaned down now, meeting her halfway. "You know very well you never embarrassed me. And you never could."

Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink as she pulled back for propriety's sake.

She lifted a shoulder, her smile wry. "It's easier to craft a story others find more palatable, don't you think?"

His displeasure with this reasoning came out in the form of a growl, which made her smile brighter. "In this household, one must choose her battles wisely," she said. "It's not worth arguing over who embarrassed who. What matters is that we have the opportunity to dance together."

That soothed him somewhat. It made him hope this was a battle he could win…at a later date.

Perhaps once they were sincerely courting.

Or, better yet, when they were married.

Yes, he'd certainly have much to say to her parents after she was well and truly his to protect.

The thought had his arm tightening around her, and he squeezed her gloved hand before realizing he might be crushing her.

Her smile didn't falter, however. "Shall we try again?"

He couldn't stop a smile of his own in return if he'd tried. "Let's."

And that was how her father found them when he entered the drawing room unexpectedly a short while later.

Grinning like fools as they stumbled and spun around the living room.

Her father's voice cut through the diverting moment like thunder at a picnic. "What is going on here?"