Page 55 of A Remarkable Rogue

“I’ve told you before, Baroness.” He grabbed her by the waist and flung her up onto the saddle, where she landed in a very unladylike position with her round bottom pointed up toward the sky. “You’re too damned beautiful to be mistaken for a boy.”

Unable to resist, he slapped her playfully on the bottom.

She scrambled to throw over her leg to sit up. Then she stared at him, stunned, as if she couldn’t decide whether he’d just complimented her or insulted her. And Nate was damned himself if he knew which.

He clasped her wrist and pulled her down across the horse’s neck until her face was level with his as he stood on the ground beside her. Her breath came in fast, excited little pants that sweetly tickled his lips. Even now, amid the dangers threatening them, he still yearned for her.

For a long moment, they simply stared at each other, like two opponents sizing up the competition before a fight. Nate had the growing suspicion that before this escapade with Sydney Rowland was over, they would share one hell of a brawl.

“You’ve changed your mind about me, then, haven’t you?” she whispered, drawing his gaze to her full lips. “You must think I’m innocent if you’re willing to help me like this.”

“Yes,” he admitted grudgingly, “I do.”

“And have you changed your mind about…the other?”

Nate knew exactly what she meant.

He’d never met a woman like her. Courageous and daring, stubborn and insolent, pushing away the people she should have held dear…yet so full of confidence, so gut-achingly beautiful and alluring even in boys’ clothing with mud dirtying her face. He simply could not fathom her.

More, she wantedhim, this woman who refused to be second to any other.

“Her name was Sarah,” he told her quietly, answering her question the only way he knew how.

Her lips parted with a delicate, puzzled frown. “Pardon?”

“She was my wife.” He drew a deep breath, held it for a moment as he steadied himself, then let go in a jerky exhale. “She died three years ago, and it was my fault.”

Fifteen

Nate stopped his horse and pointed into the darkness. “There.”

Fatigued after a long day of riding, Sydney forced her tired eyes to follow his outstretched arm to a small cottage at the edge of the woods. It sat back from the narrow road snaking away from the end of the sleepy village they’d just ridden through.

“We’re stopping there for the night,” he told her and lifted his gaze skyward toward the sunset’s last purples and reds.

They’d left her town house in London nearly twelve hours—and three pairs of horses—earlier, riding hard in near silence and stopping only to change mounts and gobble down a quick meal before riding on. They’d made good progress and were now over halfway to Oakwood Manor, where Robert lived with his governess. But they were both tired, and it would be madness to continue in the darkness with worsening roads, the scent of rain lingering coldly in the air, and the threat of highwaymen behind every tree.

Truth be told, she was exhausted, and her body was sore and stiff from the saddle and a lack of sleep from the night before. The thought of stopping for a few hours’ rest made tears of relief gather at her lashes. The ride had been excruciating, but she’d kept up with Nate all day in the chase he’d led across the English countryside, just as she’d keep up with him again tomorrow.

Somehow.

“Is that part of an inn?” she asked, hoping beyond hope for hot food and water.

“No.” He kicked his horse and sent it down the lane.

Sydney shook her head at his taciturn behavior and trotted after. He’d been distant all day.

He rode his horse beneath the small lean-to at the side of the cottage and slipped to the ground, then caught the reins of her mare as she rode up. When she slid off the horse, she winced at the stab of pain that shot up her backside.

He frowned. “Are you all right?”

“Just a bit tender,” she answered grudgingly, unwilling to admit to even this small weakness for fear he’d send her back to London.

He said nothing to that, just as he’d said little to her all day, and turned to unsaddle the horses. He avoided eye contact with her and kept his back toward her. His silence hadn’t bothered her much during the ride; she’d been too busy focusing on her horse and on worrying about Robert. But now, it grated.

She drew a deep breath. “Nate, why didn’t you—”

“There should be oats in that bin.” He nodded toward a barrel at the rear of the lean-to. “Pour in a scoop for each of them, and get water from the barrel over there.”