That was the scent she’d noticed when she’d come closer. The ointment smelled fresh, like mint or pine. Amelia ran a hand along the horse’s neck. “She’s a beautiful horse.”
Nicholas looked at her over the mare’s back. “Do you know anything about horseflesh?”
“Nothing at all.”
He smiled. “She is a beauty, quite prized for her coloring.” He set the brush he’d been using aside and gathered the silky strands of the horse’s mane in his hands. As Amelia watched, he quickly plaited the horse’s mane into an elaborate braid.
“There are many ladies who would pay handsomely for those hair dressing skills,” she said.
He gave her a look of bemusement. She hadn’t seen him smile very much, and that casual happiness made her heart beat faster. She wanted to make him smile every day.
“I’m only good with horse hair,” he said. “Besides, ladies like all of those curls at their temple. I’d have no idea how to manage those.”
“Nor would I,” she said. “A few years ago I begged my mother to let me cut my hair so I could have fashionable fringe, and she said I’d regret it. I did, and promptly allowed it to grow out again.”
His eyes roved over her again. “You made the right decision,” he said.
Amelia tried to suppress the shiver of desire that speared into her when he looked at her like that. She couldn’t think what to say, so even though she might have liked to turn the conversation from hairstyles, she said, “Your sister has that style, though, and it suits her.”
He nodded, either not wanting to disagree with her or feeling non-committal. The silence dragged on just long enough for her to feel awkward. The vicar had told her to ask for what she wanted because men were idiots. She wasn’t sure how to begin, but if she didn’t say something now, Nicholas would move on to another stall or horse and she’d have to chase him to get a word.
“Do you remember the other night when we spoke in your bedchamber?”
His gaze lifted to hers, the blue of his eyes icy. Clearly, he was remembering some of the less pleasant things she had said.
“I told you I wanted us to be friends.”
“Among other things.”
“Yes, well.” She moved carefully around the horse so she was on the same side as Nicholas. Now that she was close enough, she dropped her voice. “I thought we might work more on our friendship. I want more time with you.”
His brows lowered. “I told you—”
“Time like this,” she said before he could tell her why he couldn’t give her what she wanted. “I just want to be part of your life. We could talk while you groom horses or over breakfast or, I don’t know. But that is what I want—time with you every day.”
“I see,” he said slowly.
“It’s important to me,” she added, moving closer to him so she could make her point.
“Fine.”
“Fine?” Amelia couldn’t believe how easy that had been. The vicar was a genius. “I mean, yes, fine, good.” She was so happy she threw her arms about his waist and hugged him. He was stiff and immobile for a moment, but then he put his arms around her and hugged her back. Oh, my. His chest was quite solid where she pressed against him, and he felt warm and smelled like mint. She couldn’t resist turning her head to look up at him, which put their mouths much closer than she had anticipated. Her heart pounded in her chest as she remembered that kiss they’d shared in the stable before their wedding. She wanted another kiss like that. She wanted him to pull her closer, hard against him, and kiss her like he wanted her as much as she wanted him in that moment.
He looked down at her, and his gaze went to her lips. Amelia felt as though her legs were made of jelly. She wanted him to kiss her so badly. She tilted her head up, offering her lips.
“Amelia!”
She started and Nicholas stepped away from her.
“Amelia!”
Seemingly completely unfazed, Nicholas called, “We’re here, Florentia.”
Amelia had enough of her wits about her to turn her head as Lady Florentia approached. One look at her face and all of the heat from the embrace a moment before evaporated. “What is it?” Amelia asked. Florentia’s lips were pursed and her cheeks bright red. She was breathing hard as though she had either run or walked very quickly.
“Your servant from Catmint Cottage is here. She says your mother needs you right away.”
Amelia reached out and grasped Florentia’s arm. “Is she well? Has something happened?”
“I don’t know. But your servant said right away.”
Amelia didn’t know what to do. She was frozen, a million thoughts racing through her mind. Rose would not have come for her if something were not very, very wrong. “I’ll go now,” she said, lifting her skirts.
“Wait.” Nicholas caught her arm, and Amelia had the urge to shake him off and run. But he turned her and took both of her arms in his until she looked up at him. “It will be faster if you take the gig.”
“Too long to saddle,” she said.
“My men are fast, and it’s only one horse. Plus, if you need a conveyance when you arrive, you will have one.”
“I can run there faster.”
“Not much faster, and you’ll be tired.”
“I—”
“Stop arguing with me and let me give the orders.”
Amelia closed her mouth and nodded. He walked stiffly off to speak with the stablemaster, who was nearby, having seen Lady Florentia running to the stable. Florentia put her arms about Amelia’s shoulders and Amelia turned to her and buried her head against her shoulder. “I should have called on her before now. I have been so selfish.”
“Shh.” Florentia stroked her back. “You’ll go now, and it will all be well. You’ll see.”
But Amelia knew things had not been well since her father died. She should never have left her mother alone at Catmint Cottage. If anything had happened to her, Amelia would never forgive herself.
NICHOLAS FINISHED TELLING Bowen to have the gig readied and returned to find Amelia all but sobbing in his sister’s arms. Florentia gave him an anguished look over his wife’s shoulder, and Nicholas clenched his fists, wishing there was something he could do to make the grooms hurry. But they were good men and moving as fast as they could while still ensuring all was done properly and safely.
He felt completely useless, standing there beside his weeping wife and unable to do anything to help her. But that seemed to be his lot in life—he was useless these days. She hadn’t been wrong that she could have run to Catmint Cottage quicker, but if they needed to fetch a doctor or additional assistance, it would help to have the gig there. Not to mention, if they took the gig, Nicholas could drive her. Perhaps that was selfish of him—to suggest the gig so he might be able to go along. But somehow in the last few days his wife had roused something inside him, a sort of protective instinct. He wanted to keep her safe and shelter her from unhappiness.
He tried not to think how ridiculous it was to believe a cripple like him could keep anyone safe.
Finally, the gig was ready, and the coachman helped him into the box. A groom helped his wife, a task Nicholas would have performed before his injury. Then he would assist a lady into a coach, letting his hands linger on her waist for just a moment too long before rounding the vehicle and leaping up himself. Now he was the one requiring assistance.