His Perfect Bride by Boyd Heather

Author:Boyd, Heather
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781925239676
Publisher: Heather Boyd
Published: 2021-01-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5

Ophelia hung on to the side of the little cart, still amazed that Montrose had chosen to take her with him on a morning outing. Usually, he poured over journals and accounts from morning till luncheon. After a second daily ride, he issued instructions for those who worked for him until long after she went to bed. That he was not working, or somewhere about the estate on horseback, was unprecedented. He had a routine that he strictly adhered to. One she had learned to live by and even found comforting.

But he’d presented himself with his customary no-nonsense manner in the hall at precisely nine o’clock. He’d placed her in the open carriage himself and drove off from the manor without a single servant accompanying them.

She wasn’t sure what had prompted this sudden change in his routine, but she was glad. Montrose worked far too much, in her opinion. He needed to lighten up a little.

Ophelia wouldn’t question his reasons for being with her today for fear that he’d change his mind about taking her lessons. She thought she’d made significant progress in getting his agreement. He’s lost that defensive edge to his tone when he spoke about London.

And it was pleasant to be more or less alone with him, so far from the hushed atmosphere of their typical days and any lingering servants. Not that their outing was any different really than any other. Montrose was silent as they drove along. But his thigh pressed continuously against hers in the close confines, making her painfully aware that he was male…and that she found him attractive.

Thankfully, that was an awkwardness only she felt. Feelings and longings she’d been incapable of turning aside continued. Making love again was a frequent fantasy of hers. But Montrose would never consider taking her to his bed. He didn’t think of her that way. To him, she was Paul’s widow, grief-stricken till the end of her days, most likely. But she was not grieving any longer. She’d put aside her mourning and wanted to resume a full life. That included intimacy with a passionate gentleman.

When the lake came into view, Montrose surprised her by turning the horse in the wrong direction, heading past it to another distant lake she’d only heard spoken of. The track led through a stand of tall trees and was obviously far less used, because she began to be tossed about a little more than she cared for.

Montrose shot out his hand across her front to steady her and stop her pitching forward, and then he grasped her by the legs, pulling her hard against his side, capably managing the horse one-handed and her with the other. Ophelia began to grow aroused as Montrose held her and they shifted together with the rocking of the carriage. Mortified, she squeezed her thighs a little tighter, hoping she would not embarrass herself by moaning aloud.

The carriage reached a particularly dense growth beside the track, and she stretched out one hand to brush aside the closest branches.

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