Page 48 of Aurelia

“Allow me,” the earl said, and then lifted Aurelia into the saddle as swiftly and easily as he had done the last time they’d ridden together. Unlike the last time, however, the saddle had already been adjusted for her use, so he merely smiled up at her and then mounted his horse. “We should make haste so you have enough time to explore before the tide changes.”

“It is very kind of you to take the time to escort me,” she said as they cantered down the long driveway side-by-side.

“It is my pleasure.”

Aurelia stole looks at him from beneath her lashes. Although the scenery around her was wild and beautiful Lord Crewe was the only thing she could look at when he was at hand.

Or think about.

Over and over her gaze slid sideways without her permission.

His pale blond hair glinted like gold beneath his high-crowned hat. His unscathed right profile was facing her and she marveled at how different he looked without the scars. Not for the first time did she think that he resembled a starker and more powerful version of his cousin. Lord Crewe and his cousin shared many of the same features, but the man beside her looked like a savage Viking invader rather than Arthur’s gossamer angel.

His black riding boots were polished to a glossy shine, the leather closely molded to his calves. His breeches were far too supple to be buckskin—perhaps they were deer, or even doe. Aurelia had never seen black riding leathers before. Nor had she ever seen any that fit so… lovingly. Perhaps the current fad was for skintight black breeches? It had, after all, been eight years since Aurelia had last been to London and seen the fashions, so his clothing might well be all the mode.

Or, far more likely, this was a style of the earl’s devising, something he wore just because he knew how well it suited him. Not that he wouldn’t have looked striking even if he’d been garbed in sackcloth.

Aurelia stole a glance at the path to make sure she wasn’t about to ride off a cliff, and then pulled her gaze back and continued her exploration. He held the reins in his right hand while his left rested on one well-formed thigh, gloved in black, just like the rest of his ensemble.

Her gaze lingered on his broad shoulders and then her eyes continued their journey upward.

And ran right into Lord Crewe’s ice-blue eye and smiling lips.

Aurelia’s head whipped around, her face on fire. She had blushed more in the last month than she’d done in the previous five years. Could a person die from blushing too much? If so, her life was definitely in peril.

Thankfully, he did not say anything until they reached the well-rutted road that led to the west side of the island.

“Have you published anything about the islands on this part of the coast?” she asked, captivated by the beauty around them as they crested the rise.

“I must show you some of the journals from my boyhood. I made it my goal to document every living creature on the island.” He chuckled. “Well, except the human inhabitants.”

From the gossip Aurelia had heard, the earl had been quite thorough when it came to the young, female population.

“But as for publishing anything, no. I suppose I am simply too familiar with the island at this point.” He cut her a quick glance, his grin disarming. “And my greatest character defect is a propensity to get bored.”

“I find it difficult to believe it is your greatest defect,” she retorted, and then bit her lip.

He turned to her slowly, his eye wide.

“I’m sorry, my lord, that was—”

“Truthful. Brutally so.” He laughed. “Indeed, I’ll wager enough people on the island—and on the mainland—have been eager enough to inform you of my many defects. Talbot among them.”

“That is the third time you’ve mentioned Sir Gideon in a sneering fashion.”

“No? Is it really? How interesting that you are keeping a tally.”

She ignored his taunt. “Sir Gideon helped me fend off the ruffians and then rowed me to the island. There is no deeper connection.”

“He would like one.”

“I find it difficult to believe that you discerned that much from a ten-minute conversation.”

“Men recognize that sort of thing in one another. We are much like dogs—or wolves, if one wishes to elevate oneself to a more interesting level—who are constantly scenting one another and seeking to establish dominion. We humans are more sophisticated than other mammals, but when fear, anger, lust, or any of the more compelling emotions are in play, then our less civilized, more primitive self comes to the fore.”

“And that primitive self is what allowed you to smell Sir Gideon’s interest in me?”

He laughed. “Perhaps smell wasn’t the best word. But I could see what he wanted.” His gaze turned hot. “Because I want it, too.”