Page 28 of Aurelia

Twenty minutes later she was garbed in her riding habit—a rich coffee brown garment with dusty rose piping that brought out the gold flecks in her eyes and made her abundant hair look more chestnut than mousy brown—and on her way to the stables, excited about riding for the first time in almost four years.

Lord Crewe stood beside a magnificent smoke-gray stallion, his glossy boots, black leathers, and exquisitely fitted black clawhammer making his lean frame appear even taller.

The lines of his body were long and elegant and Aurelia’s fingers twitched to sketch him.

She had honed her artistic skills on naked male bodies beyond counting—most of them, unfortunately, deceased—but she knew enough about the masculine form that she could easily visualize how the earl would look stretched out in front of her.

His scarred face shifted into a saturnine smirk as he stared down at her, as if he knew she had just been imagining him naked.

Aurelia swallowed. “Thank you for taking the time to show me the island. I hope it is no bother.”

“Why would it be? It is my island and I enjoy showing it to my guests,” he said, his well-marked, dark gold eyebrow lifting along with the tattered tufts over his left eye.

He turned to the hovering groom. “Saddle Black Prince for Miss Burton, Jemmy.”

“Aye, master,” the groom said, and then disappeared into the stable, leaving the two of them alone.

Aurelia jerked her gaze from the scars that marred the left side of his face. His remaining eye glinted with amusement; he knew exactly what she had been looking at.

What was wrong with her? First imagining him nude and now ogling his scars. It was gauche to get caught staring and she was ashamed of her behavior. But there was something about his face—both sides—that made it difficult to look at anything else when he was in the vicinity.

“You have already been riding?” she asked.

“I have, but that was work. This will be for pleasure.”

Aurelia squirmed at the way he said pleasure, and it was a struggle not to fidget under his sardonic gaze. She never fidgeted! Why on earth did the man disconcert her, so?

Because you are accustomed to overseeing your siblings, a small household, and the local gentry. You are far away from Queen’s Bower and Little Sissingdon now…

The earl gestured to her satchel. “You are going to sketch?”

“I always bring it along, just in case.”

He reached into the pocket of his coat and extracted a small leatherbound notepad with a pencil tucked in a holder. “As do I, even though it drives my valet to distraction that I ruin the lines of my garments.”

Aurelia could see no evidence of such ruination, and it was certainly not for a lack of looking.

He flipped open the book and she studied the drawing. It was a cottage, with more detail and attention expended on the roof.

“You are a fine draughtsman,” she said, and then wished she had held her tongue. “I hope you do not find that term offensive.”

“I am flattered by your assessment given how I struggle with this”—he raised his slightly shaking left hand— “even making rude sketches is a challenge.”

“You cannot paint at all?” she couldn’t help asking.

“Nothing worth the effort.” He smiled at whatever he saw on her face—likely horror at the thought of not being able to paint. “Do not pity me too much, Miss Burton. I have other interests to keep me entertained.”

Aurelia’s dratted face heated at his words and Lord Crewe’s lips pulled up at the corners.

Just what did his other eye look like beneath that patch? The thought came out of nowhere and she hastily shoved it aside.

The groom emerged from the stable leading a glossy black gelding.

“He is lovely.” Aurelia extended her hand for the horse’s inspection.

“He is spirited, so you will need to keep your wits about you,” the earl said.

Aurelia looked into Black Prince’s intelligent eyes. “He will do nicely, I think.” She paused and then added on impulse, “We rode quite a bit when I was younger. It is only these past few years I have rarely had the opportunity.”