To Seduce an Angel by Kate Moore Page B

Budge, Miss Portland?”
    Emma clung to the pony. Daventry read her gesture with uncanny accuracy. She leaned against Budge as if to tell him how lost she was, so far from home that even the dirt had a different smell. Only the pony felt familiar, but ponies were practical beasts, and she could not expect Budge to abandon stall and hay to run away with her. She had nowhere to go, no money with her, and no news of Tatty.
    â€œAt least a person can count on a pony’s discretion. They never tell secrets.”
    â€œYou have secrets then?”
    â€œDon’t you?”
    â€œTie the beast to my rig, and I’ll take you back to the house.”
    Emma tied the pony as he ordered. He watched her tether the animal, and under that attentive gaze, she was grateful to rely on old habits that required no thought.
    When she looked up at him, the man she was to betray, the red glow of the lowering sun turned his angel hair to gold. Except for that hair, loose about his face, he was the perfect country gentleman in a coat and trousers as somber as the darkening landscape.
    His scrutiny made her hesitate again at the side of his rig until he extended a gloved hand to help her up, and she felt how easy it would be to put her hand in his and surrender to his strength.
    His horses awaited his command. She put her foot on the wheel and let him pull her up, feeling the easy strength of his arm. Emma was surprised at the warmth of his clasp and the comfort it gave her. The urge to flee had been strong as she and the pony raced across the fields, but she had recognized the exhilaration of the moment as a fleeting thing.
    She landed next to him. His hand still held hers, warming it, his thumb sliding over her knuckles. She could not look away from their joined hands. She was used to men with their bars and their keys and their weapons, but Daventry had some other power. She felt her body incline toward his and stiffened.
    He released her hand with a careless laugh, though her hand, no longer numb, still felt his. Budge snorted to remind them of the stables and oats.
    Her cloak fell against his thigh, and she shifted on the narrow seat, pulling the garment close around her. The knot at her throat gave, and Daventry turned at once. “Will I always be tying your cloak about you, Miss Portland?”
    He took charge of her cloak strings as if they should obey him. Emma tilted her face up to give him access. The soft leather of his gloved fingers brushed the under side of her chin. Emma released the breath that she had been holding. His hands stopped their motion. A huff of breath escaped him, a white vapor in the icy air as if they made awkward wordless conversation.
    Let me.
    Yes.
    More.
    No.
    A sudden flush of warmth stole over her. His fingers finished their work, and he picked up his reins.
    He turned his horses toward the towers of Daventry Hall. She and the pony had crossed open fields, but he would take his rig along the river road as dusk approached. Emma wondered whether Wallop had someone watching in the cold of the waning day.
    â€œDo you want to tell me what happened to send you in a mad gallop across the countryside?”
    â€œHow did you know I had gone?”
    â€œJay came to me, claiming you’d stolen a pony and fled.”
    â€œI went to find the boys in the wood, but when I heard the ponies, I remembered . . .” She paused briefly as a crowd of memories rushed forward in her mind. “We had ponies, my brother and I. We were free to ride them in the orchards and the hills with our cousin. The three of us rode often.”
    â€œSo talking to ponies comes naturally to you?”
    â€œIt does.”
    â€œMore naturally than talking to men.”
    Emma glanced sideways at him. How did he guess these things about her?
    â€œCan you tell me how the boys are getting on?”
    â€œYes.” She seized his offer of the topic. Her wakening memories were leading her to make dangerous