Beneath her the saddle seemed to roll and sway in a highly concerning manner and Livia started to feel dizzy. “This is worse.”
“Sit up straight.”
“Can’t.”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
“Same thing,” she gasped.
“No, don’t close your eyes,” she heard Gabriel command, as if from a great distance, and then she was listing to one side in a strangely boneless way, everything was getting all shadowy, and all at once, she and the horse had parted ways.
Chapter 7
Gradually the world brightened again.
Livia realized that she was being held in muscular arms, against a muscular chest, on muscular thighs.
And feeling much safer.
Thank heavens.
Gabriel had seated himself—seated them—on a bench, apparently, which was a much better distance from the ground. He had one arm cradling her back, and the other arm around the back of her knees. How cozy. And his face was quite near her own. It seemed to swim a little. Wasn’t that odd. His eyes were such a lovely color, brown with topaz flecks in them (she hadn’t noticed that before), and she did like his nose as well. So magnificently straight. Also, it was neither too large nor too small. It was, in fact, just right.
Goodness, but she could stay like this for a while, studying him. He had quite a pleasing face. And wasn’t it nice the way his hair was a little long. Such an attractive shade of brown, and so glossy, too. It would feel wonderfully smooth to the touch, she was sure of it. She was just about to lift her hand, to verify this, but stopped abruptly when one of the grooms asked, “Sir? Is the lady ill? Shall I send for a doctor?”
Those brown topaz-flecked eyes were fixed on her. “Are you ill, Livia?” Gabriel asked gravely.
“Ill?” Livia thought about it. To her regret, that lovely limp swimming sensation was already fading away. “No. I fainted. For the first time in my life.” She laughed. “An accomplishment! Your grandmother will be proud.”
He didn’t smile. “Why did you faint?”
The thought of old Mrs. Penhallow had, unfortunately, well and fully intruded. “Which reminds me. She’d be horrified if she saw us like this.” Livia struggled free of Gabriel’s arms and—not as gracefully as she would have liked—seated herself on the bench at a respectable distance from him, hastily settling her skirts and very sure that she had revealed far more of her ankles than she should have.
“It’s nothing,” she said, and primly straightened her bonnet.
“Walk them a little,” Gabriel told the grooms, who promptly obeyed. He watched them for a few moments, then turned his dark gaze to Livia. “I ask you again. What was that all about?”
Those delightful brown eyes could certainly be piercing. Livia looked down at her gloved hands, and began plucking at one of the cuffs. “I—I don’t know what you mean,” she said lamely. Stubbornly.
“I think you do. It’s a little unusual for someone to pass out when set upon a horse.”
“I told you I didn’t want to ride. But you didn’t listen to me.”
“Why don’t you want to ride?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“It certainly is my business. Here we are, you and I, and a horse for each of us.”
“So what? There’s no rule that a Penhallow must ride a horse!”
“My dear girl, it’s what is done.”
“Stop calling me that, you horrid stuffy man!” Livia snapped, sounding goaded, and then, to Gabriel’s astonishment, she let out a wrenching sob and clapped both hands over her mouth.
Good Lord, what had he done? Had he actually driven her to tears? Was he as bad as all that?
She certainly had seemed, only a few minutes ago, very relaxed in his arms, all firm and soft and womanly and delectable, and through him had rushed again a hot aching desire. (An unwelcome and unprofitable reaction, incidentally, given that he was going to ship her off—alone—to Surmont Hall as soon as possible.)
Still, that was no reason to be cruel to her about her fainting episode. Despite her accusations, he wasn’t a mean person.
Was he?
And was he stuffy?
“I’m sorry,” he now said, softly. “Won’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”
“Much you care.”
He’d never heard that tone in her voice before. It sounded like—bitterness. For a moment he wanted to put a comforting arm around her, but hesitated. She seemed fully capable of rounding on him, and they’d already been seen in public behaving scandalously.
Good Lord, he really was stuffy to be thinking about such things. If he hadn’t caught her as she toppled off the horse, she might have hurt herself badly.