Page 35 of The Duke Not Taken

Maren screamed upon hearing that.

“No, darling, no, no, I couldn’t have,” Amelia said, and glared at the duke. Whether or not she might have killed them, she didn’t see the point in frightening the girl. “No one came close to being killed, I swear it. I’ve done this thousands of times.” Not precisely like this, not out of control and fearing for her life. She soothed Maren’s blotchy, tear-stained cheek.

“I want to go home,” the girl sobbed.

“I know you do,” Amelia said soothingly. She was still shaking from the ride, and now she needed to think of how to explain what had happened here to the girl’s mother. Another shiver raced down her spine as she imagined Blythe’s reaction.

Oter and Fabian reached them, both out of breath, too. Amelia could picture them running for their horses out in the meadow, then racing after her, probably certain she would die and they would be faulted for it and their heads whacked off. They looked absolutely horrified.

Marley had managed to catch his breath, but a trickle of perspiration slid down his temple and disappeared into his beard. “Is this how you guard your princess? By letting her run wild?” he admonished the guards.

“I wasn’t running wild!” Amelia insisted. “It got a bit fast,je,but I had the reins in hand.” At least she thought she had? The last few seconds were so blurry she couldn’t think. “Your dog startled the mare!”

The dog had trotted back, panting for air, looking up at her and Marley, seeking approval.

“That mare was already lost before the dog ever reached her.”

Oter dismounted and came forward to retrieve Maren. When he had her—her arms around his neck now, still sobbing, and oh, this would be an uncomfortable discussion with Blythe—he walked back to his horse, speaking in soothing tones to her. Amelia leaned down to pet the dog and to avoid Marley’s dark stare, but she felt weak, as if the ride had drained all her strength.

“Madam, forgive me, but you are entirely too reckless.”

Amelia couldn’t look at him. She couldn’t seem to focus at all. “Things got a bit out of hand.”

“Abit?”

It was more than a bit. She’d been terribly foolish. She knew what might have happened—her memory of the Duchess of Tartavia riding with abandon was a fond one, but she conveniently refused to recall that the poor woman had died of a broken neck. Years after Amelia and Justine had watched her ride like the wind, they’d heard she’d fallen from a horse and had died the moment she hit the ground.

“You lost control.”

She couldn’t exactly argue convincingly otherwise, and besides, her heart was pounding so hard she thought it might leap from her chest. “I lost control.”

He snorted with satisfaction.

“For a moment. But I would have gotten her reined in, and I almost did, but your dog scared her.” Her voice sounded unnaturally high, and she could not catch her breath. Not that it mattered, because Marley was talking and hadn’t even heard her. He’d removed his hat and was dragging his fingers through his hair, nattering on. “Nearly killed myself trying to stop the mare.” He seated his hat and looked at Amelia. He squinted. “Are you all right?”

“Je,” she said weakly. She tried to smile, but something went sideways in her. She watched as Marley vaulted off his horse and strode forward. He seemed to be moving too slow. Or she was moving too fast. Only then did she realize that she was tilting to one side and sliding out of the saddle.

He caught her before she hit the ground. Amelia gasped, frightened by the lack of feeling in her legs and gripped his arms tightly. “I think I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying, you’re fainting.” He held her up. “Take a breath. Several of them.”

She tried, but she was having trouble focusing. Her gaze was fixed on his blue neck cloth. Her fingers were digging into his impenetrable forearms. She detected a faintly spicy and sweet scent, something she would equate with men’s cologne. He did not strike her as the type to douse cologne onto his person, and she wondered if someone had doused him—and really,whatwas she thinking? She was thinking that he was remarkably handsome if one was close to him and he wasn’t scowling.

“All right?” he asked.

Amelia forced herself to look up into the two mountain lakes peering back at her. “I’m...” She was wobbly, fizzy, and feeling a bit detached from her body. “I’m fine.” The feeling was slowly returning to her legs. She felt a bit steadier. And foolish. But steadier.

He looked skeptical. “Can’t you send one of them to fetch a carriage for you?”

And alert Blythe to a catastrophe? “A carriage!” She shook her head. “I’m not that sort of princess.”

“I hope you’re not the sort of princess to try and ride after that fright. You’re awfully pale.”

“That’s my nature. My grandmother used to say she could nearly see through me, I was so pale. Especially in the winter months. There isn’t much opportunity to go out into the bitter cold. I’m really fine. Just a bit of nerves, that’s all.”

“If you say,” he said. With one callused hand, he very gingerly peeled her fingers from his arm. She hadn’t realized she was still clinging to him. And why was his hand callused? That didn’t make sense. “You’ve got an impressive grip there,” Marley said.

The girls suddenly shot past them. Maisie shouted at her to see how fast they were. Maren was no longer sobbing, which Amelia considered an encouraging sign. Perhaps this would all be forgotten. Perhaps they would never have to mention it again.