X: Command Me through Alexander's Eyes - Geneva Lee Page 0,84
full gallop, and leaving him behind. I need to put some distance between my father and me, especially with a hunting rifle at my side.
By the time the hunt winds down, I’m sore and impatient. I guide my horse to a trot alongside Norris, who I suspect came along simply to ensure I didn’t shoot my father.
“Ride ahead and tell her to meet me outside? I’m going to take her out to show her the grounds.” It’s half question, half command. I’ve used up too much of my patience to offer more.
He responds with a bemused smile. “I’ll tell her to change.”
I think of her filmy skirt and shake my head. “Don’t.”
He cocks an eyebrow but keeps his opinions to himself. Pressing his own horse forward, he shoots ahead of us. Unfortunately, his absence leaves space for Jonathan to ride up beside me.
“So, tell me, man to man,” he begins.
I refrain from commenting on his use of the term man to man. It’s not that I hate Jonathan. I nothing him, which makes it impossible to take him seriously—especially when he says shit like that.
“An American?”
“She’s half British,” I say in a clipped tone. Jonathan doesn’t know what dangerous ground he’s treading. I consider warning him.
Before I can, he continues, “I mean, I don’t blame you. She’s hot, and I bet knowing your father hates it makes it hotter.”
“My father has no influence over my feelings.” I grip my unused riding crop in my hand, wishing it were his neck.
“Feelings?” he repeats. “You’re not actually serious about this girl?”
“Of course, he isn’t,” my father’s icy voice interrupts.
“Let me know when I might have an opinion on my own life.” My blood heats inside me as I feel a familiar rage take hold.
“When you accept who you are,” he says.
Or rather who he wants me to be—who they all want me to be.
“Excuse me, I have a date.” I press my horse into a faster canter before either can respond then to a full gallop. I need to see Clara and remind myself they’re wrong about her and me. But no matter how fast I ride, I can’t seem to outrun the truth behind their words.
I said it myself when Norris implied things were serious between us. I’m not sure why everyone thinks they are—half of bloody Britain is planning our wedding already. Clara and I have an arrangement. Yes, some of the terms have changed. Yes, we’re no longer fucking but dating. Yes, I met her parents and brought her to the country.
But that’s not a ring on her finger.
I won’t do that to her because a ring like that isn’t a promise. It’s a shackle. I will not clip her wings. I will not tether her in a cage.
As the house comes into view, I spot her moving across the veranda. It’s as though an invisible rope tugs me toward her.
I might not bind her to this life, but, my God, I am bound to her. I slow as I approach, giving time for some of the others to catch up with me while I wrestle with this realization.
Clara continues down to the lawn as I approach. I smile to see she’s still wearing the light blouse and short skirt but that she’s tugged on a pair of riding boots. Pushing away all the serious concerns, I concentrate on the shapely lines of her legs.
She raises an eyebrow as I approach, and I realize she’s looking at the riding crop still clutched in my hand.
“Father insisted. Of course, if you know what you’re doing, you don’t need one.” I shrug.
“I could have used one this morning,” she says dryly, and I nearly grin.
I guess brunch went well.
“I suppose it would have its uses.” She might be on to something. Maybe I should bring it to dinner. I keep this thought to myself and extend a hand. “Come.”
A knowing expression—half relief, half desire—takes hold of her face, but she gestures to her ensemble. “I’m wearing a skirt.”
The wind catches it, lifting it high enough to show more of her bare thighs and a slight glimpse of the apex between them before she shoves it down.
“Believe me, I noticed.” I dismount, ready to throw her over the saddle if necessary—no matter how barbaric the gesture. Pulling on my helmet, I toss it to a waiting servant. “I need to get you away from these bloody people. I want you all to myself.”