Amira tipped her head and nickered a welcome that Grin returned. Liliana greeted Geoffrey with a tight smile and a nod. She looked prepared to bolt.
“A lady who rises before noon,” Geoffrey marveled. “I thought surely this would be the last place I would encounter one of my female guests.”
Liliana’s brow creased, then smoothed as she tilted her head. “An eligible lord who is wealthy, handsome and not well into his dotage?” She shrugged. “I’m surprised you’re not being stalked from hill to dale, regardless of the hour,” she said, her tone full of irony.
And she smiled.
And that smile lit him, drawing one in return. “Is that what you are doing, Miss Claremont? Stalking me?” he teased. “First the library and now on my morning ride…I do believe that’s a pattern.”
She huffed. “Since I arrived in the library well before you, I couldn’t possibly have followed you there. This morning, however, I shall admit to nothing.” She looked up at him in her direct way but gave him a decidedly mysterious smile that told him he’d been forgiven for his erroneous assumption in the library that first night. “I shall leave you to wonder.”
Geoffrey grinned. He couldn’t help it. “Then my ego shall, of course, believe you are stalking me most shamelessly.”
Liliana ducked her head on a smile. How unexpected.
Satisfaction spread through Geoffrey like a warm salve. Liliana might not want marriage, as she claimed, even to the Earl of Stratford. But she did want him—Geoffrey.
And he was happier about that than he should be.
Still, she hadn’t satisfied his curiosity.
“You’re quite a horsewoman,” he remarked. His eyes roamed over her tawny pants, which showcased long, slim thighs and shapely calves. The flowing white shirt gave cover to her derrière, but Geoffrey could easily imagine the fabric clinging tightly to her.
She followed his eyes, then seemed to remember her unorthodox attire. She clearly wanted to groan, but good manners won out.
“Thank you,” she said, choosing not to address her apparel or saddle choice.
He smiled at her aplomb and tried a different tack. “Amira fits you well. How did you get Griggs to part with her?” Geoffrey asked, though he had his suspicions. If Liliana had smiled at Griggs the way she did at him, he couldn’t possibly take the stable master to task with good conscience.
Her face flushed. “Is that her name? It means princess, does it not?”
“In Arabic, yes,” he replied. “I thought it fitting, as her sire’s name is Sultan.”
“Ah.” Liliana nodded to Grin. “And who is this handsome gentleman? Arabian as well?”
“Close,” Geoffrey answered, tapping his ring finger impatiently upon his thigh. Was she avoiding his question? “Gringolet’s a Barb, a breed similar to Arabian but originally from North Africa.”
“Gringolet?” she inquired, raising an eyebrow. She leaned toward Geoffrey, just slightly, which brought to mind his fantasy of last night. “Fancy yourself Sir Gawain, then?”
Now he felt himself flush. “Not quite. The other soldiers in my regiment gave me that moniker, though Gringolet’s name did spring from it.”
Liliana raised both eyebrows this time. “Sir Gawain is portrayed as the consummate ladies’ man. Is that how you earned your name?” she asked boldly, but her ears turned pinkish.
“King Arthur’s nephew was also known as the friend to young knights,” he defended. “I took it upon myself to look after the new recruits. I like to think that is what inspired the name.” He wasn’t about to tell her it was likely a bit of both. And how had they come to be discussing him? “Griggs didn’t give her name when he saddled Amira for you?”
Liliana’s lovely features pulled into a grimace. She shifted in her saddle.
“Ah…well. As to that. I—” She wrung her hands, her leather gloves creaking as they twisted together. She took a deep breath before meeting his gaze. “I horsenapped her.”
Geoffrey blinked once, wondering if he’d heard her correctly. Then he blinked again. He couldn’t have been more shocked had she told him she was the illegitimate daughter of Maria Fitzherbert and Prince George himself.
Liliana swallowed, the sound audible only to her ear, she hoped.
Stratford’s head dropped slowly as he fixed her with his intense stare. “You horsenapped my prize mare…?” he repeated.
At least he sounded more confused than angry.
Perhaps she could yet brazen her way out of this situation.
She’d nearly lost her breakfast when Stratford had appeared like a wraith out of the mist. Of all persons to encounter when she’d been so close to returning unnoticed.
But as he’d approached, the oddest thing had happened. Her fear had dissipated, to be replaced by something warmer. Something that prickled her skin and caused her to shiver as fear would, but then settled pleasantly in her middle.
Now, however, nervousness returned. She thought she’d managed the conversation well so far, but what could she say to that?
“Y-yes,” she admitted. “Though I didn’t know she was your prize horse. She was most beautiful, of course,” Liliana praised, knowing men liked to be flattered. “And the most…convenient,” she finished lamely, but didn’t look away.
Stratford sat upon his steed, mouth agape, regarding her as if she’d just escaped Bedlam. She didn’t know if she’d ever seen such a befuddled look on a man before, unless, of course, she were trying to explain John Dalton’s theory of chemical atomism to them.
An absurd urge to laugh overtook her. She knew it was only her mind’s physiological response to the strain, because truly, this wasn’t the least bit comical.
Stratford closed his mouth, then opened it again. Then closed it like a sturgeon out of water.
All right, perhaps it was a bit funny.
“But why on earth would you feel the need to steal my horse?” he finally asked.
Why indeed. Liliana glanced to her right. She couldn’t possibly tell the truth. Yet Penelope had accused her time and again of being a terrible liar. She should be as honest as she could and pray for the best.
Why would she feel the need to steal his horse if not to sneak to the village to ask questions about him and his family?
“I am accustomed to riding every morning,” she explained, able to make eye contact again. That was true, at least. “I did not wish to ask your permission, given we are so much at odds.” She bowed her head and tried to sound contrite. “I do apologize.”
There. She peeped at him from beneath her lashes. A gentleman would accept her apology and send her on her way, perhaps with an admonishment.
Stratford leaned back slightly in his saddle, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “And you hadn’t time to pilfer a sidesaddle, I gather,” he remarked drily.
Liliana’s head came up as she fought off a scowl. She composed herself. She’d stick to as-honest-as-possible answers.
“It is my habit to ride astride,” she stated. “I find it more practical when out collecting specimens and data for my experiments. It is much easier and safer amidst the brambles and bogs I frequent.”