She attempted to blow the hair out of her eyes, but it was no use. Holding the reins in her right hand, she yanked her bonnet back over her head. She’d had to slow down as she reached for her bonnet. Drat! She returned her focus to the road and prayed no unexpected turns were coming up soon.
As the miles went past, her confidence increased. Even rounding the corners wasn’t terribly difficult once she figured out how much to decrease the horses' speed without causing the carriage to jolt. When she completed the race, she must remember to compliment Ainsley on his horses. The matched bays were eager to run, so she let them.
But as she turned a steeper curve, she noticed a carriage ahead, forcing her to slow her pace down to a canter. Unsure if she should try to pass the slower vehicle, she hesitated until Simon’s curricle pulled up beside her.
“Move over, Emma,” Simon demanded as his black hair blew into his eyes. He brushed the locks back in place and then slid over closer to her carriage.
He stood slowly, holding the seat for support, and then grabbed for the hood. His weight tilted the seat, knocking her off balance. Without thinking, she let go of the reins with one hand to steady herself. As she did, Simon swung his body into the curricle and grabbed the reins. He slowed the horses as Emma clung to her seat. Simon followed behind Ainsley as he drove around the slow carriage.
Emma attempted to tuck herself into the corner of the seat as far away from the angry man as possible. His lips pressed into a tight line as he clenched his jaw. Why didn’t Ainsley rescue her? The earl would have been much more pleasant than Simon. Ainsley would have asked if she were well. Not Simon. He’d scarcely ventured a glance at her since he jumped into the carriage.
Noticing the other men were increasing their distance from Simon, she commented, “You might wish to go a little faster, or you’ll lose for certain.”
He glared over at her. “I have no intention of putting your life at risk, even if you have such low regard for anyone else’s safety.”
“That is not true.”
“You put Ainsley, the passengers of that carriage, and me, all in danger because of your reckless behavior.”
“I never asked for your assistance.” She glanced away from him. The last thing she wanted him to see was how badly his words affected her. Blinking away the tears that stung her eyes, she sighed. He was right...again. She had put others at risk. Even if no one had chased after her, the others on the road were in jeopardy because of her inexperience.
Someone might have been hurt because of her actions. “I’m sorry,” she muttered.
“We will talk more about this later.”
“Where are we going?”
“As soon as we get to the next town, we are stopping for a rest, and then I will return you to your mother.”
“We might as well finish the race, Simon. I don’t believe we are all that far from St. Albans, assuming that was the finish.”
He remained silent as he drove.
The stony silence was broken only by the clop of the horses and the occasional gust of wind. As looked up, Emma noticed the sky had turned an ominous shade of gray. But before she could mention it to him, she heard his muttered curse.
“What is wrong now?” she asked.
“We are about to get very wet.”
“Is there nowhere to stop?”
He flicked the reins to get the horses trotting. “Hold on,” he shouted. “If we have any luck at all, maybe we make St. Albans before it turns into a downpour.”
Emma held onto the seat as drops of water pelleted her face like shards of ice. The temperature had fallen, and she couldn’t help but shiver from the cold. Her lightweight pelisse was no match for the downpour. As the rain increased, he had to slow the carriage down. Time seemed to slow to a halt as they made their way through the now muddying road.
She watched Simon, who had to keep his eyes on the horses and road. Staring at his profile, he looked more like his brother than she had previously thought. Both men had strong jaws and a long straight nose. However, Simon’s blue eyes were more prominent and framed with those long black lashes. And she didn’t remember Harry having a dimple when he smiled. Perhaps he did, and she’d never noticed it before.
“Are you all right?” He turned his head slightly and then frowned. “You are soaked to the bone.”
She shrugged. “I am well.”
“St. Albans is just up ahead. We’ll find a room and get warm.”
A room. A room? As in one room for them both? The idea sent warm heat flooding her body. She suddenly didn’t care how her cold, wet clothing clung to her body. Closing her eyes, she imagined him taking off the offending pelisse, slowing stripping her soaked muslin off her shoulders until it fell to the floor by the warm fire. Not that she needed a fire with him standing behind her. Lost in her erotic dream, she didn’t hear him call her name until he gave her a shake.
“Emma! Are you well?”
She blinked as her cheeks heated in embarrassment. “Sorry. I was woolgathering.”