His heart went out to her for her brave attempt to make light of the situation.
‘I wish I could have brought a carriage for you, but there was no time.’
‘Why did you come after me?’ she asked him. ‘How did you know?’
‘You had disappeared and your aunt was looking worried, but when I asked after you, she told me you had retired. I did not quite believe you would leave your own party, but I did not question it until my coachman told me he had seen a coach driving swiftly away from the mews.’ He decided only the truth would do. ‘I thought you had eloped with Freddie.’
‘But I had told you there was nothing between us!’ She gave a tiny gasp of indignation. ‘You did not believe me.’
‘I did believe you, once I had thought about it, only by that time I was back at George Street. I sent my servants to seek news of a carriage leaving Bath at speed while I went off to the livery stables. I apologise for not bringing another mount for you, but I knew I had to act quickly if I was to catch you and even the best of the other nags at the stable would have slowed me down.’
‘But why did you come alone?’ she asked him. ‘You might have been killed.’
His heart swelled a little at the thought that she might care what happened to him.
He said, ‘I did not want to risk a scandal by involving anyone I could not trust. I did not bring my groom with me to Bath and my valet cannot ride.’
She gave a little choke of laughter.
‘What an oversight, my lord. You should be more particular in your choice of servant.’
‘Yes, I should.’ He grinned into the darkness, relieved that she could still joke with him.
She shivered and looked nervously over his shoulder.
‘Are you cold?’
‘A little. I wish I had brought a cloak with me, or at least that I had not left my gloves in the carriage. My hands are chilled.’
Tristan unbuttoned his coat. ‘Put your arms around me, inside my jacket.’
After a slight hesitation she did just that and his skin tingled at her touch, despite the layers of silk and linen between them. She raised her head suddenly.
‘Oh, dear, how long can the poor mare carry us both?’ she asked him doubtfully. ‘I am no lightweight.’
Tristan laughed at that. He wanted to tell her that she weighed no more than feathers. That he would carry her himself, if necessary.
‘I am sure she is up to it, if we do not press her too hard. We will have to walk her until we can find a carriage. Or fresh horses.’
Satisfied, she leaned against him again, her arms hugging him. Her dusky curls were tickling his chin and he was tempted to rest his cheek against them, even to drop a kiss on her head, but he resisted. The situation was already delicate, he must not make it worse.
Natalya held on, settling herself into the rhythm of the mare’s gait as Tristan guided the creature through the dark woods. She felt no fear, riding through the night with her cheek pressed against his chest. It was strangely comforting as if they were enclosed in a bubble where nothing could harm them. She was safe, for now, but the fear for the future still lurked and must be faced. The abduction, her uncle’s refusal to tell her anything of her history or what was in store. She could not help thinking she was a pawn in some game she did not understand.
The horse stumbled and Tristan’s arm tightened around her.
‘I beg your pardon.’ His voice rumbled in his chest and against her cheek. ‘Were you sleeping?’
‘No.’
She was tired now, but she did not want to sleep. She wanted to savour this moment for ever, not worried about the past, or the future, just breathing in his scent, a heady mixture of soap, wool and leather, plus something unmistakably male.
They came eventually to a lane bordered by a straggly hedge dotted with trees. Tristan brought the hunter to a stop in the shadows. Natalya straightened, reluctantly ending the pleasant reverie and forcing herself to think of what was really happening. The cool night air cleared her brain and for the first time she was aware of how oddly Tristan was dressed. He had changed his silk knee breeches for buckskins and top boots, but beneath his riding jacket he still wore the white silk waistcoat and the intricately tied neckcloth with its diamond pin, which winked when he raised his head to study the sky, trying to work out their direction. Something twisted inside; he really had made haste to follow her.
‘Do you know where we are?’ she asked him.
‘No, but your abductors were carrying you towards the London road. I think we should head in the other direction.’ He pointed. ‘South.’
‘Very well. After all, this lane must lead somewhere.’
She tried to sound cheerful, she knew as well as he that country lanes could meander for miles. She snuggled against him again and closed her eyes. She felt safe with this man. Her rescuer. Like a prince in a fairy tale.
Tristan paused for a moment, gazing down at the dainty figure in front of him. She trusted him to look after her. To keep her safe. He was at once shaken and flattered by her faith in him and prayed he would not fail her. His arms tightened around her and for a moment he did rest his cheek against her hair. A few white rosebuds still nestled among the curls, cool as silk against his skin, and he caught a hint of their fragrance. Or perhaps that was just his imagination.
Bah! You are turning into a romantic fool over this woman!
Sitting up straight in the saddle, Tristan urged the mare onwards into the darkness.
Chapter Eleven
The first pale streaks of dawn lined the horizon
