A Match Made in Mistletoe

Although a groom had poked his head out from the rooms upstairs to check that nobody was stealing Sir George’s fine bloodstock at this unearthly hour. When he saw Giles, who had hung around the Talbot stables since boyhood, he’d grunted a greeting and shuffled back to bed.

“Unfair, not to mention indiscreet.” They spoke in whispers, heightening the conspiratorial atmosphere. It was deathly cold, and their breath formed clouds before their mouths.

“Well, yes.” This time he couldn’t mistake Serena’s sour tone. As he led her horse forward, he cast her a puzzled glance. His horse was well trained enough to stand waiting. “Would you rather we didn’t go?”

She sighed. “I keep forgetting that you’re a rake, and intrigues like this are second nature to you.”

He frowned. “You asked for my help because I’m a rake.”

“That’s true. It’s unjust to criticize your worldliness when I’m taking advantage of it.”

“Quite so.” He caught her around the waist, surprising a gasp out of her.

“What are you doing?”

“Good Lord, you’re skittish in the mornings.” Under his hands, she was as taut as a violin string. “I’m going to toss you up into the saddle. Or would you rather use the mounting block?” His voice lowered. “If you don’t want me to touch you, you’ve dragged me out of bed under false pretenses, which is dashed unsporting on such a cold morning.”

She sidled away. “Shh.”

“We’ve often ridden together. And our early start won’t be a secret, once the grooms see both horses are gone.”

“I know.” In the flickering lamplight, her expression was difficult to read. “But we’ve never ridden alone. And we’ve never gone riding for the purpose of kisses.”

He smiled. He liked the sound of that. He’d worried that her jumpiness meant she’d changed her mind. “They can’t read your thoughts, Serena.”

“Which is a blessing,” she said fervently.

Damn, that sounded even better.

When she’d kissed him, he’d had a hard time remembering that she used him as a conduit to Paul. But last night in the library, he’d swear that her attention had belonged to him. At least for part of the time.

Then she’d spent the rest of the night smiling at Garside as if the sun shone out of his arse.

“So you want to do this?”

“Yes,” she said. “Faint heart never won fair baronet.”

Actually from what Giles had seen last night, Serena could stick Paul’s head over her mantelpiece as a trophy, he was so bloody won.

“Then on we go.” Trying to sound as if he didn’t resent her devotion to Paul, he lifted her onto the black mare.

He mounted his gray gelding and they rode out of the yard together. She was a fine horsewoman, and the strengthening light allowed him to admire the fit of the forest green riding habit trimmed with black frogging.

“In that get-up, you’re ready to launch a military campaign.”

Beneath the curling brim of her stylish black hat with its jaunty green scarf, she looked fresh and lovely. The cold added an enchanting glow to her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled with excitement.

Anticipation made his heart leap. Was she excited because she looked forward to his kisses?

“Is there a compliment hidden somewhere there?”

“You’re getting above yourself, Miss Talbot.”

She laughed. “I’ll tell myself there was.”

He took the path through the woods behind the house. He knew the Talbot estate better than he knew his own. It hadn’t taken him long to choose the location for the next installment in Serena’s sensual education.

“I can guess where you’re taking me,” she said, over the crunch of hooves on last year’s leaves.