‘She will be but a moment. If you would just give me a hand to get in—’
Blake held out his hand to assist her into the carriage, but stayed outside when she sat. ‘I am endeavouring not to make you feel uncomfortable in a confined space.’
‘I have every confidence that you are not a rapist, my lord.’
It was worth the embarrassment of using that word to see his mouth open in shock, just for a second, before he collected himself.
‘I am aware that sometimes I cannot control a reflexive shrinking when I find myself very close to a man but, as I said, that is like a fear of spiders and it is quite irrational to react like that with everyone—especially when I know I can trust them.’
If she was in the company of more men then it would be easier to learn to discriminate between them, to overcome the reflex, of course. But if she was more used to men in general then probably she would not find herself so lacking in composure around this one.
As she had hoped, the distraction was enough for him to forget about Polly for the moment and climb into the carriage beside her. The maid soon came hurrying out and the driver set off as the door banged shut.
‘There is the world of difference between violent assault and the possibility that I might, shall we say…take liberties,’ Blake said. He seemed to be eyeing her with a wary curiosity, ignoring Polly.
‘And there is all the difference in the world between cold-blooded murder and what I might do with my penknife if you try to,’ she returned sweetly, provoking an answering grin. ‘And if by “liberties” you mean you might flirt, or try and put me to the blush, then I would suggest that you are even more weary of this journey than I am.’
Blake put his head back and laughed—a full-bodied, utterly male peal of laughter that left him rubbing his hand across eyes that watered. ‘You, my dear Eleanor, are a breath of fresh air. If I edge towards overstepping the mark you have merely to sharpen a pencil in a meaningful manner and I will be as good as gold.’
‘I know you are only teasing, of course.’
Somehow Ellie managed to keep her own face straight. Rolling about the carriage hooting with laughter—his was exceedingly infectious—would definitely be unseemly, and her words were as much a reminder to her as a comment aimed at him.
‘Really? What makes you so certain?’ That wicked spark was back and those mobile tempting lips were curving into a smile that somehow produced the hint of a dimple in his right cheek.
Plain spinsters.
Ellie almost said it, just to watch him squirm, and then bit her lip before she could embarrass herself. ‘Feminine intuition,’ she said, and buried her head in her book.
*
Two hours later and Ellie was cross-eyed with reading and her leg ached from sitting for so long. The sun was shining and the view, although of barren hillsides, was wild and intriguing.
‘I would like to stretch my legs. Do we have time to stop for a while?’
Blake looked out of the window at the open spaces without any more cover than scattered bushes within yards of the road. ‘I don’t think—’
‘That was not a euphemism,’ she said primly. ‘I really do want to stretch my legs.’
‘It is very rough country.’ He still looked embarrassed.
‘Are you worried about my limp? The bone did not set correctly—there is no diseased hip joint, or anything like that. I limp, but it isn’t painful.’ Her leg ached in damp weather, and limping was tiring, but that was not relevant now.
‘Are you certain?’
For a moment Ellie thought he was going to be male and stubborn and over-protective, but then Blake shrugged and rapped on the roof to signal the driver.
‘We could walk over to that slight rise. I think there may be a view,’ he said, and climbed down.
Polly looked so appalled at the thought that she might enjoy a walk across rough ground that they left her in the carriage.
‘I like this,’ Ellie said a few minutes later as she perched on a fallen tree and looked around. ‘The air is wonderfully clean after London. Listen—there’s a curlew calling, so wild and free.’
Blake pointed to the small hill. ‘From there we should get a good view of the valley. Coming?’
I am enjoying this, Ellie thought as she followed Blake. He was not making any reference to her limp, but he kept his pace slow enough for her to keep up and did not insist on making small talk. She could look at the view, listen to the birdsong and admire the frankly very decorative view of his broad shoulders, narrow hips and long legs as he walked just in front of her.
They climbed a stile into a pasture, and he held out his hand to assist her over—but that, she thought, was simply what he would have done for any lady he was out walking with.