any worse?’
She walked stiffly towards him, unable to delay any longer, looking between him and his horse with an almost equal sense of trepidation. From a distance, she’d hoped that the scale of the animal might have been deceptive, but up close it was even bigger than she’d feared, so tall that the top of her head barely came level with the saddle.
She stopped beside it, lowering her voice with embarrassment. ‘I can’t ride.’
‘Of course you can’t.’ He let out a small sigh. ‘Just put your foot into the stirrup and pull yourself up. I won’t let you fall.’
She tensed instantly. I won’t let you fall... He’d said those words to her before, five years ago when he’d asked her to dance. She knew them by heart, had spent hours reliving every humiliating moment of that evening, wishing she’d never followed him out on to the dance floor. That had been her first taste of freedom, or so she’d thought at the time, the only time since her long-ago childhood when she’d felt happy and carefree. Whirling around in his arms, she’d felt as if she’d been breaking out of her prison at last—before reality had set in with a vengeance.
His casual mockery had made her feel even worse than she had before. She’d made a fool of herself in front of everyone, dancing with a reprobate who’d only encouraged her to rebel for his own amusement, so that he could mock her more easily. And now he was mocking her and her attempt at rebellion again, as if she were just a child who couldn’t take care of herself. He’d already said as much. It seemed that every time she tried to assert herself, he ruined it somehow.
She gritted her teeth at the thought. Well, this time she wasn’t going to let him. She wasn’t going to be small and helpless any more. He might have thwarted her escape attempt, but that was the only victory she’d allow him. She’d go back to Whitby, but she would never marry him, no matter how much he tried to convince or intimidate her. She loathed him.
‘You look cold.’
‘What?’ His words jolted her back to the present.
‘I said that you look cold.’ He sounded impatient.
‘No,’ she lied. ‘Not at all.’
She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders defensively. It was the warmest garment she owned, though still sadly lacking. Her father had never allowed her to spend much time out of doors so she’d never had need of very warm clothes, but she certainly wasn’t going to tell Captain Amberton that. He’d only take it as further evidence that she wasn’t able to take care of herself.
‘Here.’ He shrugged himself out of his greatcoat and draped it around her shoulders.
‘You’ll be freezing!’ She gestured at his jacket sleeves in protest.
‘I’ve been living in Canada. I’m used to it.’
‘But you’re injured!’
‘Then we’re fortunate my injury isn’t one that’s affected by cold.’ He heaved another sigh. ‘Now can you mount before we all freeze to death? I believe you’ve inconvenienced these men, not to mention myself, long enough.’
She glared at him, cheeks flaring despite the cold. Inconvenienced. He couldn’t have said it any more clearly. That was all she was to him, an inconvenient woman with a convenient fortune. That was why he’d pursued her—for the money, not her. She jammed her foot in the stirrup angrily, hoisting herself up into the saddle, then gasped in shock as his fingers wrapped around her ankle, wrenching it loose again.
‘What are you doing?’ Her breath caught in her throat at his touch. No man had ever seen, let alone touched, her leg before!
‘I’d like to ride, too.’ He looked up at her scathingly. ‘Or do you think I should walk?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Good. Because if it’s propriety you’re worried about, I’d remind you that we are engaged. If it hadn’t been for this little escapade, we’d be married already.’
He mounted behind her, uttering a small grunt as he swung his injured leg over the horse’s back. She shifted forward quickly, trying to keep their bodies from touching, though the curve of the leather saddle made that impossible. His thighs were already wrapped tight around hers, her bottom pressed against his... She closed her eyes in mortification.
‘Comfortable?’
‘No!’ By the tone of his voice she could tell he was mocking her again.
‘Then let’s get this over with, shall we?’ He reached around her, imprisoning her within the circle of his arms as he grasped hold of the reins and gave them a decisive flick.
Violet fumed inwardly, her fear of the horse all but forgotten. She had no qualms about accepting his greatcoat now. On the contrary, she hoped he was cold. It would serve him right, not just for ruining her plans, but for making her feel such a fool as well. A tiny, naive, helpless fool. Just as her father had always said—just as he’d always made her feel, too!
She looked past her captor’s shoulder, blinking back tears of frustration as she watched the cart recede into the distance, obscured by a shifting, lace-like curtain of snow. How had her plans failed so badly? How had he found her? She wasn’t about to deign to ask him, no more than she was actually going to cry in front of him, but she still wanted to know, even if it didn’t matter any more. Her escape plan had failed and now he was taking her...
She straightened up with a jolt. Where was he taking her? This wasn’t the road the cart had followed that morning. It wasn’t a road at all. It was the moorland itself, the wild and boggy terrain she’d always been warned about. She spun around in alarm, only to find her captor’s companion, or manservant as he seemed to be, riding alongside, though whoever he was, he still hadn’t uttered a word. Where were they taking her?
‘You said we were going back to Whitby.’ She tried to keep the panic out of her voice.
‘I lied.’ Her captor’s tone was implacable. ‘Although I’m sure Martin here would enjoy standing guard outside your house, it’s far easier to keep an eye on you at Amberton Castle.’
‘You think I’ll try to run away again?’
‘Won’t you?’
Yes. She didn’t say the word aloud, though now more than ever the answer was obvious. She was riding over the moors with a man she despised, back to the scene of her hurt and humiliation five years ago, a place she’d hoped never to visit again. Of course she was going to try to run away. As soon as she could.
‘That’s what I thought.’ His mouth set in a hard, firm line. ‘I’m taking you back to Amberton Castle, Miss Harper, your new home.’
Lance looked down at the woollen lapels of his greatcoat and muttered one of his most colourful soldiers’ oaths. From his companion’s audible gasp, he could tell that she recognised the inflection, if not the exact meaning of the words. Somehow he doubted she’d ever heard such language before, but he wasn’t in the mood to be polite. He was in the mood to swear like a trooper and invent a few more words
