Ethan: Lord of Scandals

There was no sadness in her smile now. She beamed radiant approval at him, and that made him want to kiss her too. “Oh, you did. You very certainly did, Ethan. They are wonderful boys, and you will always be glad they are yours.”

Ethan saw such a light of longing in Alice’s eyes, he had to look away. God above, the woman wanted children. She wanted children of her own, and she’d be a wonderful mother. And yet Barbara, to whom children had been merely pawns, was given two, while Alice was denied any of her own.

“You’ll ride with me.” Ethan patted her hand briskly. “Say you will, just once, to give it a try and shut me up.”

“You won’t let this alone, will you?”

Never. Maybe he couldn’t give her children, but he could give her this. “I’ve told you more about my wicked past than I’ve told my own brother. I’m not asking you to trust me with the details of your own unhappy history, Alice, I’m asking you to trust me to keep you safe for a few minutes on a very reliable horse.”

The two were related. He’d bet Argus on it.

“Very well, but I have no proper attire.”

Victory without bloodshed, the best kind. “That’s my girl. You won’t need it, because we’ll start off astride.”

“You won’t take me up like you did before?”

“That has to be the worst way to ride a horse,” Ethan scoffed. “Yes, I get to put my arms around a pretty lady, but you are trying to balance contrary to the movement, which makes no sense.”

“You did not think I was pretty.” Alice snorted, then put a hand over her mouth as if to recall the words.

“You are pretty.” Ethan had never been more sincere. “And your scent is delightful, as is your form. And while you went above stairs and couldn’t catch your breath, I went above stairs and thanked the Almighty for a governess with a bad hip.”

So to speak.

Ethan saw he’d silenced her, and shut his maw before he said even more. When had he become so damned loquacious?

He tapped her nose with a single finger. “Go put on some half boots. Meet me in the stables in thirty minutes.”

She could change her shoes in five minutes, and what Ethan had planned behind the privacy of his locked bedroom door would also take about five minutes—all three times.

* * *

Alice’s mind went in two directions at once. Part of her was preparing for a nasty breathing spell; another part was suggesting if she’d just glance down at the horse’s neck, she could find the reins to pick them up.

But that she could not do, lest she see the ground yards and yards away, so she fished with her fingers in the thick mane until she encountered leather. “I’ve got them.”

“Now we just sit here.” Ethan’s voice was right at her ear, his cedar scent was a soothing fragrance on an otherwise horsy breeze, and his chest was a solid presence at her back. “We’re well trained, and we know we don’t take a step until my lady tells us to. I don’t think it’s quite as warm today as it was yesterday.”

Hang the bloody weather. “Neither as hot nor as humid.”

“I asked you what you’d consider a treat by way of reward when we saddled up. You never answered,” Ethan reminded her pleasantly. His hands were resting lightly on her waist, and but for that, Alice knew, she knew in her bones, and muscles, and organs, she’d fall and be dragged again.

“Getting off would be my best treat.” Though in the barn, when Ethan had mentioned a treat, she’d been helpless not to gaze at his mouth. “How long do we sit here?”

“Until you tell him to do something else, but I want to know your next-best treat.”

Alice gave the smallest, most useless tap of her heels. “And I want this to be over.”

Waltzer moved one front hoof then swung his left ear forward and back.

“Again,” Ethan coaxed. “He wasn’t sure you meant it, and he’s asking for clearer orders.”

Alice felt her shoulders move with the depth of her breathing, but she gave her mount a firmer tap, and he moved two steps then flicked his ear again. She wanted to pat him for being such a careful horse, but that would mean moving her hands, which were gripping the reins for dear life.

“Try again,” Ethan said. “This time, let your seat go a little too, or he’ll think you mean go with your heels but stop with your seat.”

“My seat?”

“Your hips. Here.” He pressed against her waist and angled his hands down, as if to rock her hips in the saddle. “You recall the motion of it from your childhood rides. Just think about it when you tap him again.”

Alice tried it, and the horse started walking at a very sedate pace.

“Oh, God. Now I have to steer.”

“Not necessarily. He’ll go forward in this direction until he lumbers up to the fence, and then he’ll stop and ask you what you want next. Watch.”

Because she couldn’t do anything else and breathe, Alice did as Ethan suggested. The horse stopped, sighed, then turned his head around to peer at Alice’s knee.

“What next?” Ethan interpreted. “Just tap again, and because he’s already looking around to the right, he’ll probably saunter in that direction.”

It took two tries, but the horse was rapidly figuring out the game.

Ethan kept his hands on her waist. “I think you might steer, if you wanted to.”

Hang him and his helpful thoughts. “Oh, no, I couldn’t. We’ll just find our way to the rail again.”

“Let’s be very daring.” Ethan dropped his voice. “Try another turn to the right.”

“Ethan, please don’t make me do this.”

“We’ll stop when you say, Alice, though I think you could steer us back to the mounting block.”

She bit her lip, because she didn’t want to get off all the way down to the ground. Just as she tentatively tugged on the right rein, the gelding began to shuffle along in that direction.

“Can he read my mind? Or did you make him do that?”

“You did it. You looked at the mounting block, you probably leaned toward it, and you picked up the right rein. Now why is it,” he went on in the most conversational tones, “you won’t tell me what your second-best treat is?”

“Hush,” Alice hissed. “He’s coming to the mounting block.”

Except he’d approached at an angle, and because the previous three times the horse had asked, the lady had told him to bear right, Waltzer, being an obliging soul, sauntered past the mounting block and strolled off to the right.

“Oh, blast and damn,” Alice wailed. “Now what?”

“Such language. Now you simply steer him back toward where you want him, and this time, we’ll ask him to stop.”

“I can’t. They don’t go when you ask. They don’t stop when you ask. They turn by themselves, and they’re just too big…”

“You’re doing splendidly, but think of wee Waltzer as a little boy, Alice. You have to tell him how to go on, and when you’re crossing a busy thoroughfare with a small child, you take his hand firmly. To Waltzer, there are many distractions, such as every blade of grass, every dropping, every breeze and sunbeam. You must make your directions clear, so it’s easy for your charge to know his task.”

In the midst of that little homily, Alice’s hips had finally started moving in rhythm with the horse’s walk. The image of the horse as a child in need of guidance tapped some vein of confidence unknown even to her, because she wordlessly directed him back to the mounting block, but this time, steered him left as they went around it. Ethan kept silent behind her but kept his hands on her waist as well.

“And now,” Ethan suggested a few minutes later, “you must tell him he’s doing well.”

“You’re doing well, Waltzer. You’d best keep doing well.” And Ethan Grey had best shut his helpful, interfering, gorgeous, handsome mouth.

“Oh, that was encouraging to a lad who’s trying his heart out for you. He doesn’t understand your words,