“El Diablo, my lady.”
The devil? Carter had chosen a devil horse for her to ride? Obviously he expected her to be a dashing, hell-bent rider. He probably imagined them charging across the fields together, laughing, racing, jumping streams, fences, and hedges. Her spirits plummeted further. Was this yet another thing she would fail at so dismally as his wife?
“If you prefer, you can ride with me,” Carter offered.
Dorothea’s head snapped up, suspicions forming in her mind. One gaze at his face and she knew the truth. His innocent expression did not fool her for an instant. She would bet her last farthing that the stables were filled with much gentler, far more appropriate mounts for her to ride.
“Your horse hardly looks tame,” she retorted, eyeing the great black beast as he snorted and pranced about the stable yard, presenting a great challenge to the strong groom who was holding his reins.
“Caesar is a well-trained brute,” Carter responded with a fond tone. “Large enough to easily carry us both on a leisurely ride.”
“He seems all spirit and temper,” she said, unsure how she felt at Carter’s attempt to manipulate her. It was a relief not to have to try to prove her equestrian skills, since they were so limited, and yet she had some pride.
“Under the right conditions, Caesar is as gentle as a lamb.” Carter’s eyes measured her. “Come and say hello to him.”
Dorothea approached the horse. He looked at her curiously, but stayed quietly in place. She reached out and slowly stroked his neck. He reared his head, swished his tail, and blew through his nose. She turned back to El Diablo. Pride or no pride, the choice was clear.
“I suppose I shall try my luck with you on Caesar.”
The charming smile Carter bestowed upon her reached his eyes. She was still fighting to regain her breath when he put his hands on her waist and easily lifted her onto the front of his saddle. Then he swung up behind her and placed one arm tightly around her midriff. “Is this better?”
“It is, as you well know,” she answered primly.
He bent his head and touched his lips to her ear. “At least give me credit for discovering a way to hold you in my arms.”
She was trying to think of a snappy retort when he tightened the circle of his embrace, forcing her back against his front. She was now surrounded by his muscular arms, his strong, hard body at her back. A wave of pleasure washed over her, and Dorothea felt a sense of security unlike anything she had ever known. It warmed her body, but also her heart.
All thoughts of being prim and distant flew out of her head. She took a deep breath and sank deeper into the curve of his warm strength. She settled her shoulders against his chest and tucked her gloved hands around his forearm.
“Ready?”
She could hear the amusement in his voice. Turning, she glanced at him over her shoulder. “Not too fast, please. I should hate to topple off and drag you down with me.”
A teasing light danced in the depths of his eyes. “I have not fallen off a horse since I was seven years old. But I assure you, dear wife, if something does go amiss, I will endeavor to make certain that I take the full brunt of the impact and have you land on top of me.”
Dorothea squeezed the hard, solid strength of arm. “You are hardly a soft cushion, my lord.”
He shifted behind her, adjusting his position so that her hips nestled tightly against his thighs. Dorothea stiffened, but then she forced herself to relax and let the sensations flow around her. They set off at a brisk pace.
The warmth and strength of Carter’s body pressing against hers coupled with the undulating motion of the horse mimicked far too well the rhythm of making love. A memory that might have agitated and distressed her, but instead it slowly began to awaken her desire.
She heard Carter’s breathing change, turning deep and quick. Wicked, sensual thoughts formed in her mind. For an instant she allowed herself to consider the ridiculous impulse that swirled in her head-was it possible to make love while riding on a horse?
“Pardon?”
His breathless voice startled her and her entire body went rigid.
“The lake,” Dorothea squeaked, knowing she must sound like a half-wit. “’Tis very pretty.”
“Not just pretty, but functional.” She felt his breath caress her cheek. “It’s stocked with fish.”
Dorothea ran her hand self-consciously across the skirt of her riding habit. Her legs felt warm and heavy and she knew if she did not regain control of herself quickly, she was going to regret it.
“Do you like to fish?” It was hardly an interesting topic, but it provided a diversion from her physical dilemma.
“’Tis difficult to find the patience for it.” He placed a tender kiss on her neck, in the sensitive spot directly behind her ear. “Regretfully, I was never disciplined enough to appreciate the concept of delayed gratification.”
Carter lifted his arm and Dorothea panicked, wondering where he was going to place it. She scrambled to think, trying to decide how to react. The kiss had sent pleasant shivers down her spine. He was her husband and she needed to learn to accept his touch without reservation.
Determined to be cooperative, she let her head drop back against his shoulder. And waited, her breath held.
But instead of giving her a teasing caress, Carter waved at the workers in the field, who returned the greeting with enthusiasm. She felt her face heat with embarrassment, along with a flat, disappointed feeling that made no sense at all.
Recovering her emotions, Dorothea sought to concentrate on the surroundings and ignore the physical distraction of her handsome, muscular husband. They rode through fields of grazing cattle and sheep into the deep green meadow. Carter was congenial and charming, pointing out sights of interest, telling her a story or two from his childhood. By the time they returned to the stables a few hours later, Dorothea was smiling and relaxed.
Yet by evening, her fragile sensation of contentment had vanished. At dinner, she struggled to do justice to Cook’s sumptuous meal, but her appetite, and nerve, completely deserted her. Carter, she noted with a tinge of annoyance, ate with obvious relish, complimenting each dish. At least she had been successful with the menu, though the lion’s share of the credit belonged to Cook, since she had devised it. Dorothea had merely approved the selections.
“Shall we adjourn to the drawing room?”
Dorothea placed her dessert fork on the edge of the plate near her barely eaten slice of cake and gave her husband a weak smile. “If you wish.”
He leaned close and his breath fell gently against her hair. “Unless you prefer to retire?”
“To my bedchamber?”
“I believe it is more comfortable than residing in the stables.”
She could feel her forced smile begin to tremble. “Alone?”
There was surprise in his eyes at her direct challenge. Clearly he had not expected her to bring up the overshadowing topic that clouded their every interaction. Yet Dorothea simply had to know what was happening. Would he come to her chamber tonight?
“I assume you would prefer your privacy and therefore shall honor your wishes to wait before I return to your bed.”
Carter put his arm around her waist, leaned down, and kissed her softly on the lips. Her mouth sagged open before she somehow managed to close it. Kisses were wonderful, marvelous, melting. But they led to other things she was not as eager to embrace. She pulled back, just a fraction, and he obediently released her lips.
“Sleep well, Dorothea. I will see you in the morning.”
Then, with a cryptic smile, he turned and walked out of the room.
Carter regretted his words, and actions, the minute he exited the room, for it seemed as though he was leaving all the sparkle and life behind him. But it was better this way. More than anything, Carter wanted Dorothea to find deep pleasure in their marital bed. He wanted her satisfied, replete, and contented. And he knew that would take
