was marred by a pronounced limp. He guessed that there were several large bruises on her bum.
“Who knows…” He came up close behind her and placed his hands on her waist. “You might find them intriguing.”
Kate tried to pull away.
“Stop squirming. Unless you wish to walk all the way back to the stables, you are going to need my help to get back in the saddle.” Marco couldn’t resist adding, “But then, if your delicate parts are too sore to sit upon hard leather, I could carry you in my lap—”
“Lift me up,” she said. “And do make it quick.”
He was about to do as ordered when a loose strand of her hair brushed against his cheek. Neroli and wild thyme—the scent tickled his nostrils for an instant before wafting away in the breeze.
Damn. Whatever memory it stirred was equally elusive.
He felt her stiffen and realized his hands had stilled on the swell of her hips. The curves fit quite comfortably against his palms, and he let them linger, savoring her shape.
“Well?” Kate demanded. “What are you waiting for?”
The mare gave a whicker as Marco tossed her up and helped hook her leg on the sidesaddle’s pommel. “Walk your mount back. It’s still early enough that you shouldn’t encounter anyone on the way up to your rooms,” he advised. “I shall follow along later, unless you truly can’t make it by yourself. You know how evil minds like to speculate, so it would be best if we are not spotted together without a chaperone.”
“I’ll manage,” she said curtly.
He stepped back. “Next time, take a groom. They are usually expert riders and can offer helpful pointers on the basics of horsemanship.”
As she rode off, Marco heard a few parting words slip from her lips. Including ones that sounded suspiciously like ‘insufferable’ and ‘prick.’
“These books are indeed magnificent.” Charlotte sighed as she closed the tooled leather covers. “I once owned a copy of the medieval herbal by Matthaeus Platearius. Until my late husband sold it to cover his gambling debts.”
“Men,” muttered Kate through gritted teeth. She shifted her position on the library’s window seat and bit back a wince. Lud, her bum must be turning a vile shade of bruised purple.
But the worst blow had been to her pride. She was usually dispassionate about judging her own capabilities—or lack of them. Which made the decision to go galloping in pursuit of Marco even more incomprehensible. Her brain knew it was imperative to stay as far away from the conte as possible.
But her body… She shifted slightly, uncomfortably aware that the sharp prickling of her flesh had nothing to do with her recent bruises. Damn her body for responding to the rogue. She wasn’t a pirate any longer, a free spirit allowed to make her own rules. She must learn to behave like a gently reared lady, even though she was anything but.
Prim and proper, she reminded herself. But rebellion must run in her blood, for she couldn’t seem to make her spirit give any heed to her conscious commands.
“Men,” repeated Kate, a little more loudly. “To the devil with the lot of them.” Setting aside the volume of floral engravings she had been perusing, she rose from the tufted cushions. “Ouch.”
Charlotte looked up. “Are you all right, my dear? I noticed that you seem to be walking rather gingerly.”
“It’s nothing to speak of—I had just a slight accident on the bridle path this morning.”
“Perhaps you ought to lie down for the rest of the day,” said her friend in some concern. “A fall from a horse is nothing to be trifled with. Are you sure that you’ve suffered no broken bones?”
Kate rubbed at her rear. “For better or for worse, I landed on a spot that has ample padding.”
“You haven’t an ounce of protection, despite all the pastries you consume,” replied Charlotte with a sympathetic grimace.
“A long soak in a hot tub after we have a look at the bromeliads in the conservatory and I will be fine.”
“If you are sure…” Rising from the reading table, Charlotte carefully placed the rare books in a neat row. “I am looking forward to examining the specimens, of course, but I would be just as happy to spend the afternoon here with these marvelous works of art. I so rarely have a chance to study such valuable engravings.” She gave a longing look at the cavernous room and the ornately carved floor-to-ceiling shelves of sherry-colored oak. “I can only imagine what other intellectual treasures are