Waking Up With the Duke by Lorraine Heath Page B

might make another appearance.”
    “I have no fear of Sheffield.”
    “Well, then, perhaps you’ll be kind enough to protect me from him.”
    Gingerly, careful of her step, she made her way to Cassie and took the reins. “Truly, Ainsley, I see no need for you to give up the hunt.”
    “Whatever makes you think I’ve given it up?”
    She jerked her head up, only to find him watching her with such intensity that she was unable to hold his gaze. She petted Cassie because the action gave her something to think about other than him. Was he insinuating that she was his quarry? Why did the thought fill her with inappropriate giddiness? He’d not be giving her any attention at all if Walfort hadn’t set him on her path. What interest did she have in a man who noticed her only because she belonged to another?
    If she were wise, she’d accept his offer to change saddles and allow her to ride his horse. If she had any sense at all, she’d simply straddle his horse now and gallop home. His nearness unsettled her. His masculinity flustered her. It had been so long since she’d done little more than exist. He gazed upon her as though she were lovely, desirable. As though she was once again a woman.
    She straightened her spine and forced herself to meet his unrelenting gaze. “I have no interest in your attentions.”
    “I’m well aware of that.”
    “Has Walfort instructed you to give them to me regardless of my preference on the matter?”
    “I saw you take a tumble. I came to assist. Make no more of it than that.”
    “You deny following me?”
    “Walfort asked me to watch over you.”
    “I love him.”
    “I never thought otherwise.” His somber voice reflected sadness.
    “I miss him,” she rasped, blasted tears once again threatening to consume her.
    His lips parted and she held up a hand to stay whatever it was he planned to say. She did not want his sympathy, his reassurances, or his flirtations. She shook her head briskly. “Partaking in this hunt was a dreadful idea. I must return to the manor now to see that tonight’s ball does not disappoint.”
    “My horse is spirited, but I’m certain you can manage him. Allow me to change the saddles.” He leaned in, his mouth forming a conspiratorial smile. “Or ride astride. It would save time.”
    Oh, she wasn’t half tempted. But that would require assistance, and Ainsley was the only one near enough to assist, which would bring their bodies in much too close proximity. He would either have to boost her up, his hands forming a cradle for her foot, or he would lift her, his hands clasping her waist, her hands folding over his broad shoulders. On the way up, her breasts might brush against his chest. Her nipples puckered painfully with the thought. Perhaps he was right, perhaps she was a coward. She shook her head. “No, I shall walk back.”
    He grabbed the reins of both horses, leading them, while she strolled beside him.
    “Are you certain you can manage with your foot—”
    “It was only a momentary discomfort. I shall be fine.” And she would. If it killed her.
    F or the longest time, the most courageous woman Ainsley had ever known was his mother. She’d married young, at sixteen, a man far older than she, the Earl of Westcliffe. She’d given him an heir. When he lost interest in her, she’d taken a lover. She’d given him a son—a carefully guarded secret until recently, with only the immediate family now aware of the truth. When Westcliffe died, he left her destitute, and she promptly married Ainsley’s father. He perished shortly after his heir was born. Ainsley remembered little of the man who sired him. His mother, however, had been a dominant force in his life. As well as a scandalous influence. Ainsley’s father had left her well off. She could do as she pleased. What she pleased was to take young lovers.
    But now another was threatening to usurp his mother’s place as the most courageous woman he’d ever known. Jayne.
    If he were