ride off, convinced that Beatrice’s grin meant that she and her sister were of like minds when it came to men and their pride. Still, it appeared that Lord Crenshaw had some particular interest in her sister.
Cecilia moved on, mulling over whether she was in favor of such a match. Well, there was no point in making a decision on that until she found out if Beatrice herself would consider it.
Chapter Twelve
CECILIA WAS DOING her best to dispel her speculations about Lord Crenshaw and Beatrice when she heard a mad gallop, apparently the speed at which Lord Destry did everything.
Lord Destry was almost beside her, still moving at an unwise speed, when a rabbit darted into the path in front of his mount. The horse took exception to having company on the path and reared up. Destry held on with amazing skill, but just as the horse was settling yet another rabbit raced after the first. It was too much for man and horse. Destry was thrown and he landed on the dirt path with an alarming thump.
With a screech that she swallowed before it became a full-born scream, Cecilia leapt off her horse and ran over to Destry who was, ominously, not moving. His eyes were open and for the most hideous of moments she thought he was dead.
Then he blinked and her terror resolved itself into anger, close to a wholly unreasonable rage.
“You stupid, stupid man! Why were you riding so fast? Are you hurt?” She put her hands on her hips to still their shaking. His body looked as it should, no arms or legs at odd angles. She waited. When he did speak she understood.
“No breath,” he rasped painfully. He closed his eyes and they both waited.
He was a fine figure of a man. When he was lying down and one was not so conscious of his height, he was handsome and very well formed. She blushed a little at the thought but his eyes were still closed so there was no one to tease her about it. Why was it that a tiny woman like Beatrice was not remarked on, but a short man, at least one as short as Lord Destry, was considered an oddity?
“You look as though you are in one piece, my lord,” she said with a return of her usual calm. “That is, unless you have broken your back and will be crippled for life.”
His eyes flew open at her bluntness and he wiggled his legs and feet.
Relieved, she knelt beside him. He seemed to be breathing more normally. “Are you recovering?”
He nodded. “My horse.”
“Enjoying some grass until you are ready to remount.”
“Good.” He raised himself on one elbow, ignoring the hand she offered. She withdrew it. He would have to beg before she offered him her hand again.
* * *
WILLIAM, YOU IDIOT, he thought. He wanted to swear and was just as glad that he did not have the breath for it since it would dig him deeper into Miss Brent’s bad graces. He looked like some schoolboy trying to impress a girl, which he certainly had done but not in the way he’d hoped.
“I am quite all right, Miss Brent.” Except for a raging headache and wickedly wrenched shoulder. He sat for a moment, letting the world settle around him, and brushed at his trousers as if that would remove the dirt stains.
He began to stand but stilled when he felt her hands on his shoulders. “Please do not try to stand, my lord. I can see you must still be dizzy.”
Yes, he was, but a good part of that came from the sensation of her hands on him, her lovely scent so close, the feel of her breath in his hair. “All right,” he said, leaning his head back into the comfort of her breasts. He bit back a smile and groaned a little.
Miss Brent was quiet for much too long. William turned to look at her. She regarded him through narrowed eyes, as though she was not sure whether to trust him or not.
He raised a hand to his temple and rubbed his aching head. “Thank you. Thank you very much. I cannot recall the last time I was thrown from Jupiter.”
“We can blame the rabbits. One, any good rider could have handled, but two was quite unexpected.”
“Maybe,” he allowed, closing his eyes to escape her gaze, but her beauty was now permanently etched in his memory. There was more to the woman than her perfect skin,