Dorothea was surprised. “I thought everyone would be in Town at this time of year.”

“Spending the Season in London is a costly venture, as you know. Only those with daughters to marry or sons looking for adventure or a bride make the journey into Town.”

A few short months ago she was one of those searching females. Was that comment meant to be a jibe at her recent situation? No, she insisted silently, shaking her head. She would not read insult where none was given. Carter was not so petty.

“I would not want to shirk my obligations to the local society by avoiding them completely,” she replied.

As you are shirking your duty to your husband? He did not speak the words, but Dorothea swore she could hear them loud and clear.

“We are newly wed,” he said. “It should not cause great offense if we decline these social invitations.”

“All of them?”

His expression became serious. “Perhaps it would be politic to accept one. Tea with Mrs. Snidely, I think. She is a born gossip who will delight in broadcasting her opinions about you to the neighborhood, along with everything she can learn about us.”

Everything? Dorothea blanched. How amazingly humiliating. But their marital discord would be kept a secret. It was the way of the nobility. Dragging her eyes away from his, she said, “I’ll leave it to your judgment to decide about the invitations.”

“Very good.”

She clasped her hands firmly in front of her. The silence between them hung heavy. Dorothea could see the muscle in his jaw flexing as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. Such a handsome, strong jaw.

“Since Mrs. Simpson has already shown you the house, I could take you on a tour of the estate.” He hesitated. “I assume you ride?”

“Hmm.” The noncommittal answer seemed safest. She did ride, though not very well and generally at a snail’s pace. One glance at her husband’s strong thighs had Dorothea assuming his skill far exceeded hers. He would not be impressed when he saw her on a horse.

“I need to change into my riding habit,” she mentioned, hoping that would put him off the idea. Men hated to be kept waiting while a woman changed her clothing.

“I’ll meet you in the stables when you are ready,” he answered. “I need time to consult with my stable master on which mount will be yours when we are in residence.”

Neatly trapped, Dorothea had no choice but to agree. She took as long a time as she dared to change, then presented herself at the stables. The pleasant scent of horses and leather surrounded her the moment she entered. Not surprisingly, the stables were kept in pristine condition. Carter introduced her to Jack Kenny, the stable master. Middle-aged, with a trim build and a weather-beaten complexion, he was a short man who smiled often.

At his command, one of the younger grooms led a horse from the stall to the mounting block. Dorothea’s heart sank. The horse looked enormous. Tall, sleek, and prancing with energy. He seemed the kind of horse that would excel at leading a cavalry charge. She knew without a doubt if she tried riding him, she’d fall on her backside before they left the courtyard.

“What is his name?” she asked the groom as he put a sidesaddle on the horse’s back and began to cinch the straps.

“El Diablo, my lady.”

The devil? Carter had chosen a devil horse for her to ride? Obviously he expected her to be a dashing, hell-bent rider. He probably imagined them charging across the fields together, laughing, racing, jumping streams, fences, and hedges. Her spirits plummeted further. Was this yet another thing she would fail at so dismally as his wife?

“If you prefer, you can ride with me,” Carter offered.

Dorothea’s head snapped up, suspicions forming in her mind. One gaze at his face and she knew the truth. His innocent expression did not fool her for an instant. She would bet her last farthing that the stables were filled with much gentler, far more appropriate mounts for her to ride.

“Your horse hardly looks tame,” she retorted, eyeing the great black beast as he snorted and pranced about the stable yard, presenting a great challenge to the strong groom who was holding his reins.

“Caesar is a well-trained brute,” Carter responded with a fond tone. “Large enough to easily carry us both on a leisurely ride.”

“He seems all spirit and temper,” she said, unsure how she felt at Carter’s attempt to manipulate her. It was a relief not to have to try to prove her equestrian skills, since they were so limited, and yet she had some pride.

“Under the right conditions, Caesar is as gentle as a lamb.” Carter’s eyes measured her. “Come and say hello to him.”

Dorothea approached the horse. He looked at her curiously, but stayed quietly in place. She reached out and slowly stroked his neck. He reared his head, swished his tail, and blew through his nose. She turned back to El Diablo. Pride or no pride, the choice was clear.

“I suppose I shall try my luck with you on Caesar.”

The charming smile Carter bestowed upon her reached his eyes. She was still fighting to regain her breath when he put his hands on her waist and easily lifted her onto the front of his saddle. Then he swung up behind her and placed one arm tightly around her midriff. “Is this better?”

“It is, as you well know,” she answered primly.

He bent his head and touched his lips to her ear. “At least give me credit for discovering a way to hold you in my arms.”

She was trying to think of a snappy retort when he tightened the circle of his embrace, forcing her back against his front. She was now surrounded by his muscular arms, his strong, hard body at her back. A wave of pleasure washed over her, and Dorothea felt a sense of security unlike anything she had ever known. It warmed her body, but also her heart.

All thoughts of being prim and distant flew out of her head. She took a deep breath and sank deeper into the curve of his warm strength. She settled her shoulders against his chest and tucked her gloved hands around his forearm.

“Ready?”

She could hear the amusement in his voice. Turning, she glanced at him over her shoulder. “Not too fast, please. I should hate to topple off and drag you down with me.”

A teasing light danced in the depths of his eyes. “I have not fallen off a horse since I was seven years old. But I assure you, dear wife, if something does go amiss, I will endeavor to make certain that I take the full brunt of the impact and have you land on top of me.”

Dorothea squeezed the hard, solid strength of arm. “You are hardly a soft cushion, my lord.”

He shifted behind her, adjusting his position so that her hips nestled tightly against his thighs. Dorothea stiffened, but then she forced herself to relax and let the sensations flow around her. They set off at a brisk pace.

The warmth and strength of Carter’s body pressing against hers coupled with the undulating motion of the horse mimicked far too well the rhythm of making love. A memory that might have agitated and distressed her, but instead it slowly began to awaken her desire.

She heard Carter’s breathing change, turning deep and quick. Wicked, sensual thoughts formed in her mind. For an instant she allowed herself to consider the ridiculous impulse that swirled in her head-was it possible to make love while riding on a horse?

“Pardon?”

His breathless voice startled her and her entire body went rigid. Saints above, did I speak those thoughts aloud?

“The lake,” Dorothea squeaked, knowing she must sound like a half-wit. “’Tis very pretty.”

“Not just pretty, but functional.” She felt his breath caress her cheek. “It’s stocked with fish.”

Dorothea ran her hand self-consciously across the skirt of her riding habit. Her legs felt warm and heavy and she knew if she did not regain control of herself quickly, she was going to regret it.

“Do you like to fish?” It was hardly an interesting topic, but it provided a diversion from her physical dilemma.

“’Tis difficult to find the patience for it.” He placed a tender kiss on her neck, in the sensitive spot directly behind her ear. “Regretfully, I was never disciplined enough to appreciate the concept of delayed gratification.”

Carter lifted his arm and Dorothea panicked, wondering where he was going to place it. She scrambled to think, trying to decide how to react. The kiss had sent pleasant shivers down her spine. He was her husband and she needed to learn to accept his touch without reservation.

Determined to be cooperative, she let her head drop back against his shoulder. And waited, her breath held.

But instead of giving her a teasing caress, Carter waved at the workers in the field, who returned the greeting with enthusiasm. She felt her face heat with embarrassment, along with a flat, disappointed feeling that made no sense at all.

Recovering her emotions, Dorothea sought to concentrate on the surroundings and ignore the physical distraction of her handsome, muscular husband. They rode through fields of grazing cattle and sheep into the deep green meadow. Carter was congenial and charming, pointing out sights of interest, telling her a story or two from his childhood. By the time they returned to the stables a few hours later, Dorothea was smiling and relaxed.

Yet by evening, her fragile sensation of contentment had vanished. At dinner, she struggled to do justice to Cook’s sumptuous meal, but her appetite, and nerve, completely deserted her. Carter, she noted with a tinge of annoyance, ate with obvious relish, complimenting each dish. At least she had been successful with the menu, though the lion’s share of the credit belonged to Cook, since she had devised it. Dorothea had merely approved the selections.

“Shall we adjourn to the drawing room?”