Captain Amberton's Inherited Bride (Whitby Weddings 2)

‘You look cold.’

‘What?’ His words jolted her back to the present.

‘I said that you look cold.’ He sounded impatient.

‘No,’ she lied. ‘Not at all.’

She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders defensively. It was the warmest garment she owned, though still sadly lacking. Her father had never allowed her to spend much time out of doors so she’d never had need of very warm clothes, but she certainly wasn’t going to tell Captain Amberton that. He’d only take it as further evidence that she wasn’t able to take care of

herself.

‘Here.’ He shrugged himself out of his greatcoat and draped it around her shoulders.

‘You’ll be freezing!’ She gestured at his jacket sleeves in protest.

‘I’ve been living in Canada. I’m used to it.’

‘But you’re injured!’

‘Then we’re fortunate my injury isn’t one that’s affected by cold.’ He heaved another sigh. ‘Now can you mount before we all freeze to death? I believe you’ve inconvenienced these men, not to mention myself, long enough.’

She glared at him, cheeks flaring despite the cold. Inconvenienced. He couldn’t have said it any more clearly. That was all she was to him, an inconvenient woman with a convenient fortune. That was why he’d pursued her—for the money, not her. She jammed her foot in the stirrup angrily, hoisting herself up into the saddle, then gasped in shock as his fingers wrapped around her ankle, wrenching it loose again.

‘What are you doing?’ Her breath caught in her throat at his touch. No man had ever seen, let alone touched, her leg before!

‘I’d like to ride, too.’ He looked up at her scathingly. ‘Or do you think I should walk?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Good. Because if it’s propriety you’re worried about, I’d remind you that we are engaged. If it hadn’t been for this little escapade, we’d be married already.’

He mounted behind her, uttering a small grunt as he swung his injured leg over the horse’s back. She shifted forward quickly, trying to keep their bodies from touching, though the curve of the leather saddle made that impossible. His thighs were already wrapped tight around hers, her bottom pressed against his... She closed her eyes in mortification.

‘Comfortable?’

‘No!’ By the tone of his voice she could tell he was mocking her again.

‘Then let’s get this over with, shall we?’ He reached around her, imprisoning her within the circle of his arms as he grasped hold of the reins and gave them a decisive flick.

Violet fumed inwardly, her fear of the horse all but forgotten. She had no qualms about accepting his greatcoat now. On the contrary, she hoped he was cold. It would serve him right, not just for ruining her plans, but for making her feel such a fool as well. A tiny, naive, helpless fool. Just as her father had always said—just as he’d always made her feel, too!

She looked past her captor’s shoulder, blinking back tears of frustration as she watched the cart recede into the distance, obscured by a shifting, lace-like curtain of snow. How had her plans failed so badly? How had he found her? She wasn’t about to deign to ask him, no more than she was actually going to cry in front of him, but she still wanted to know, even if it didn’t matter any more. Her escape plan had failed and now he was taking her...

She straightened up with a jolt. Where was he taking her? This wasn’t the road the cart had followed that morning. It wasn’t a road at all. It was the moorland itself, the wild and boggy terrain she’d always been warned about. She spun around in alarm, only to find her captor’s companion, or manservant as he seemed to be, riding alongside, though whoever he was, he still hadn’t uttered a word. Where were they taking her?

‘You said we were going back to Whitby.’ She tried to keep the panic out of her voice.

‘I lied.’ Her captor’s tone was implacable. ‘Although I’m sure Martin here would enjoy standing guard outside your house, it’s far easier to keep an eye on you at Amberton Castle.’

‘You think I’ll try to run away again?’

‘Won’t you?’

Yes. She didn’t say the word aloud, though now more than ever the answer was obvious. She was riding over the moors with a man she despised, back to the scene of her hurt and humiliation five years ago, a place she’d hoped never to visit again. Of course she was going to try to run away. As soon as she could.

‘That’s what I thought.’ His mouth set in a hard, firm line. ‘I’m taking you back to Amberton Castle, Miss Harper, your new home.’

Chapter Two