The stables, Alloway Chase, Yorkshire, October 1828
“Thank you,” Miss Trim said drily. “I don’t need to learn to
ride.”
“You lost that argument yesterday.”
Her lips firmed. “Only because you asked me in front of your
mother.”
This time Leath couldn’t contain his amusement. “I’ve
learned a few tricks from my years in politics.”
She almost smiled. An almost smile from Miss Trim was more
dazzling than the sun. “I’ll have to be on my toes, I see.”
She would indeed. Or she’d be on her back.
Luckily, he was saved from making that wish reality when a
groom led out her pony. “Miss Trim, allow me to introduce
one of nature’s gentlemen, Snowflake.”
At his name, the fat, white pony nodded his shaggy head.
Miss Trim laughed. “I had nightmares about this. Snowflake
isn’t exactly what I imagined.”
“I’ve decided to save the fire-breathing monster for
tomorrow.” Leath thanked the groom and took the reins. “Have
you ever been on a horse?”
“No.”
He regarded her searchingly. “You’re not really frightened,
are you?”
“No.” She hesitated. “Maybe. Yes. A little.”
“You’re close to the ground on Snowflake.”
“Easy for you to say.”
He laughed again. “Do you need me to help you up?” Snowflake
was too small for a woman of Eleanor’s height, but Leath
wanted her first ride to soothe her fears.
“I think I can manage.”
Pity. His hands itched to circle that willowy waist.
Snowflake stood while Miss Trim settled gingerly on his
back. Leath was surprised at her uncertainty. He’d believed
her completely indomitable. This vulnerability was
dangerously appealing.
He passed her the reins and she grabbed them so hard that
Snowflake whickered in protest. Knowing that contact was a
mistake, Leath placed his hands over hers. “Gently.”
“Sorry,” she muttered and sat stiff as a board in the
sidesaddle as he checked her stirrups. She wore half boots,
and when he twitched away the voluminous red skirts, a
glimpse of white stocking crashed through him like a cannonball.
He stepped back. “How do you feel?”
She looked very unsure. “Like I’m sitting on a volcano
that’s about to erupt.”
He snickered. “Old Snowflake is pushing twenty, Miss Trim.
If he erupts, it will be into a mind-numbingly speedy stroll.”
“That’s scary enough.”
“Courage. If you can face down a cranky marquess, this old
pony is a doddle.” He patted Snowflake, who looked half
asleep—so much for Miss Trim’s worries—and took the halter.
“Are you ready?”
“No.”
“You can’t sit in the stable yard all morning.”
“It’s my first lesson.”
“So start learning.” Clicking his tongue to the somnolent
horse, he moved forward.
“Oh, dear.”
He glanced back. Miss Trim clutched the front of the saddle
as though about to topple off. She looked utterly terrified.
“Deep breath.”
“I think you should stop.”
“I think you should let yourself fall into the rhythm of the
horse.”
“Please don’t say ‘fall.’”
He laughed again. Good God, at this rate, he’d be the life
of the party once he got back to London. “Someone as
graceful as you should have no trouble riding. Listen to
your body.”
Damn it, if she didn’t want to hear “fall,” he didn’t want
to hear “body.” Teaching Miss Trim to ride was a risky
enterprise. If only for her instructor.
Slowly he walked around the yard without looking back. He
needed to get himself under control before he chanced
another glimpse. When he finally did, he was pleased to see
her sitting more naturally. “That’s better.”
“I still feel like I’m about to end up on the cobbles,” she
admitted, although she didn’t look nearly so frozen.
“You’d have to jump. Snowflake’s back is broader than most
chairs.”
“A horse armchair?”
He smiled, charmed, and wishing to Hades that he wasn’t.
“Precisely.”
He led Snowflake around the yard again, then stood back to
let Eleanor try on her own. As he’d expected, she quickly
adapted to the horse’s gait. A quick learner, Miss Trim. He
knew that from working with her.
Inevitably, the idea of her being a quick learner here
inclined his thoughts toward another kind of riding. With
her mounted upon the Marquess of Leath rather than a fat,
phlegmatic pony who hadn’t accelerated past a trot in ten
years. The sensual daydream of watching her undulate over
his body occupied him to a point where he stopped watching.
“My lord?” She and Snowflake halted a few feet away.
“How was that?”
“I’m getting used to it.”
“You’ll come to like it.”
“Perhaps.” Although he was pleased to see her lean to pat
Snowflake’s white neck.
“Go around the yard again, if you please.”
He smiled at her growing confidence. As for her riding
something other than a horse? The wicked idea arose that
where there was a will, there was a way. Surely one could
avoid scandal, if one was careful. Perhaps he was too
punctilious about protecting Miss Trim’s virtue.
After all, she had a perfect right to say no to any offer.
