Amethyst (18 page)

COLIN CURSED FLUENTLY,
aiming a boot at the side of the carriage for emphasis.

"My lord, we'll have to stop here," Benchley concluded.

"Oh, is that right?" Colin's voice dripped with sarcasm. "I imagined we could drag along to Dover on three wheels."

Benchley usually stood as tall as possible to compensate for his deficient height, but now his shoulders hunched over and he positively drooped.

"My apologies," Colin hastened to say. Though he'd be hiring more servants in the near future—as soon as there was lodging available for them at Greystone—at this point Benchley was his valet, butler, coachman, cook, and serving-maid all rolled into one. He didn't deserve Colin's misplaced wrath. "Damn me, but I'm vexed, is all."

"I quite understand, my lord. I'll just take one of the horses and return with a wheel and a wright to install it. You two sit tight and eat the dinner Lady Kendra sent. I'll be back in no time."

"The hell you will." Colin gestured angrily at the sky. "This storm is due to kick up any minute."

As though on cue, a few snowflakes drifted down from the clouds.

Benchley brushed a flake off his beak of a nose. "I fear you're right, my lord. I'm not certain I'll be able to find a wheelwright willing to come out in this weather."

The clouds that had begun gathering last night looked unequivocally threatening now. The family had tried to talk Colin into postponing this journey, but he'd been adamant. He meant to deliver Amy to a France-bound ship, and he meant to do it today.

Damn the broken wheel.

The thought of spending extra time with Amy, in a freezing carriage going nowhere, was daunting. The only thing colder than the weather was her attitude. They'd spent the first short part of their journey in total silence, in diagonal corners on opposite seats, each with their nose buried in a book.

Spending the afternoon cooped up with her in here was unthinkable.

"Pay the wheelwright whatever it takes." He dug in his pouch, slapped some coins into Benchley's hand. "The one saving grace is we happen to be close to Greystone. I'll take Mrs. Goldsmith there on the other horse. When the wheel is fixed, ride on over and we'll be on our way."

Colin helped Benchley unhitch one of the matched bays and sent him off with a smack on the horse's rump. Then he climbed into the carriage and sat opposite Amy, shutting the door against the frigid air.

Amy looked up from the book she'd been struggling to read in the failing light. "Yes?" she asked in a frosty tone.

"The wheel is broken," he began.

"I surmised as much." Amy shut her book. "I heard every word you uttered, foul and otherwise."

"Benchley has ridden off for help," Colin explained anyway. "We'll ride the other bay to Greystone and wait for him there."

"How far is Greystone?"

"A mile and a half, or thereabouts."

"I'll walk."

"No, you won't," Colin declared.

"I'm not riding any horse."

He knew she was unhappy with him, but did she have to contradict him at every turn?

"I won't allow you to walk. It's snowing, and you have no cloak. You'd freeze to death before you made it halfway."

"It's snowing?" Shooting him a skeptical glance, she rubbed a circle of condensation off the window with her fist. She peered outside, wrapped the blanket tighter about herself, and leaned back into the corner. "It's snowing."

Colin looked out the viewhole she'd created.

"Damn, it's getting worse than I expected." Her mocking expression made him bristle. "It's not my fault we're surprised with a November snow. For God's sake, we haven't seen snow this far south in three years. How the hell was I supposed to predict such an occurrence?"

"It was cold regardless. You could have waited for decent weather before insisting—"

"I have my reasons for needing to get on with this."

"Why? So you can get rid of me once and for all?"

"No," he said too quickly. She'd hit too close to home. "I'm sorry this happened."

Her response was a stony stare.

"I've already said I'm sorry for the way I've treated you."

She remained tight lipped.

His hands fisted on his knees as he fought to control his tone. "We need to get to Greystone, and at the rate you're moving this will be a full-blown blizzard before we even get out of the carriage."

Her icy mask fell, and she shrank further into the corner. "I cannot ride a horse."

"What?" His hands relaxed, and he rubbed them on his thighs. "Whyever not?"

"I've never ridden a horse," she confessed in a choked voice. "I cannot do it; I just cannot."

"People ride horses all the time."

"Other people."

"You've never been on a horse. What makes you think you won't like it?"

"I didn't say I've never been
on
a horse. I said I've never
ridden
a horse. Papa put me on one once, in Hyde Park, when I was eight. I was up so high, and this thing under me moved, and I screamed until he pulled me off. I swore I'd never get on a horse again."

Colin couldn't believe what he was hearing. They needed to be on their way, and now. "You're not eight anymore, Amy."

"I cannot. I just cannot. The animal is ten times my weight, it has a brain all its own— why, it could buck me off, or run under a tree and make me hit my head on a branch, or—"

"Now you're babbling." He reached for her hand to pull her out.

Snatching it back, she burrowed even further into the corner and tucked the blanket tighter. "I'm sorry. If I cannot walk, then I'll just wait here. I have a blanket, a book, and food. I'm prepared to stay until Benchley returns."

"This storm could last until morning," Colin argued, though he hoped to hell it wouldn't. "You're coming with me, and you're coming on the horse. I'll hold on to you. You'll be fine." He flung open the door, grabbed her hand from beneath the blanket, and pulled her up and out of the carriage in one smooth motion.

Glaring, she shivered in her blanket while Colin unhitched the horse. He watched her surreptitiously, his earlier annoyance rapidly turning to amusement. Imagine, a grown woman being scared of a docile animal. Surely once she was riding, she would see it wasn't frightening.

When the horse was free, he motioned her over. "I suggest you ride astride—you'll feel a lot more secure that way than sidesaddle."

"Sidesaddle?" She shot him an accusatory glare. "There's
no
saddle."

"Up you go," he said cheerfully, his laced fingers providing a foothold to boost her.

"You go first."

"Amy," he said with an exasperated sigh, "if I get on first, I won't be able to help you up."

She huffed, then clenched her jaw and stepped onto his hands, swinging her leg over awkwardly.

And almost fell off the other side.

Her screech pierced Colin's ears even as he leapt to right her. Seated at last, her eyes wide with fear, she wrinkled her nose. "He smells terrible."

Her skirts were hitched up in disarray, and the look on her face was so comical that Colin had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing.

"He feels warm," she reported. "And scratchy. And very
alive
." The horse took a small step backward, and she shrieked.

"It's all right," Colin soothed. "He's not going anywhere."

He turned back to the carriage, muttering to himself.

"Wh-where are you going?" she yelled after him. "Come back! You cannot leave me alone on a live beast!"

He leaned into the carriage to fetch Kendra's basket of food. "I was just getting our dinner."

After swinging up easily behind her, he held the basket in one hand and Amy firmly against himself with the other. His arm reached almost all the way around her waist.

"Better?"

She nodded. He waited until she relaxed back against him, then urged the horse at a slow walk toward Greystone.

They moved—an entire twenty feet.

"Stop!"

Colin didn't. "You're doing fine, Amy."

"No! I mean, we have to go back!" She twisted, trying to face him. "We left my trunk!"

He reined in, swearing under his breath. "Oh, no. We're not lugging that damned trunk to Greystone. It'll be here when we get back."

"No—it must come with me," she insisted, sounding panicked. She looked up and back at him, bumping her head on his chin in the process. "I'll get it myself if I have to." To emphasize her threat, she leaned to the side as though she were determined to slide off.

Colin clutched at her. "What the hell's in that blasted trunk that makes it so important?"

She gritted her teeth. "Everything I own."

The same answer she'd given before. He was certain she was hiding something from him, but then tears filled her eyes and he found himself climbing off the horse. He set the basket on the ground and headed back to the carriage.

"Thank you so much," she called to his back.

It was the first civil thing she'd uttered to him all morning. He hadn't a clue how he'd manage to carry Amy, the trunk, and their dinner on one horse, but he supposed it would be worth the effort, if she would act pleasant as a result.

Another shriek rang out as he stepped into the carriage. "It's moving! The beast is about to run away!"

"Pull back on the reins," he shouted.

"The what? Oh, God in heaven, he's leaning down! He's going to roll over on top of me and crush me, I just know it!"

Alarmed, Colin backed out of the carriage. The horse had moved, all right—all of three feet. His head lowered, he was munching contentedly on a clump of grass by the roadside.

"God in heaven is right." Colin hefted the trunk and made his way toward her. "Save me, please."

"What did you say?"

"I said I hope you're pleased I'm saving your trunk."

When he heaved the small but heavy trunk onto the horse's back, the poor animal turned its head to look at him dolefully. Colin sighed. He found it hard to believe the lengths he would go to in order to placate Amethyst Goldsmith.

"All right." He looked to her. "Now move back so I can ride in front of you."

"In front of me? How will you hold on to me?"

"I cannot hold on to you and balance the trunk, Amy."

She tightened her knees around the horse's middle, as though she expected him to haul her off. "I'll balance the trunk."

He looked at the heavy trunk and back to her, drumming his free fingers against his thigh. "I think not. Of course, we can leave the trunk here…"

"No," she capitulated. "I'll move."

She inched back until Colin nodded. Keeping a hand on the trunk, he leaned to scoop up Kendra's basket. "Here, you'll have to carry this."

She gazed at him dubiously, but took it and wisely kept quiet.

Still balancing the trunk with one hand, he managed to mount the horse without kicking her in the face, a feat he felt deserved her undying admiration.

She didn't even seem to notice.

"Hold on to me," he said.

"I cannot see ahead," she complained. "I can only see down. It-it's a
long
way down."

"If you'd rather ride in front, we can leave the trunk here," he suggested in the most pleasant tone he could muster.

"No, no…I'll be fine. Wait a minute, though." She pushed the handle of the basket up over her wrist so she could place both arms around him. "I'm ready," she announced.

"Wonders will never cease," Colin muttered to himself. He urged the horse forward, torn between going slowly and freezing, or moving quickly and frightening Amy half to death.

Mercifully, he chose to freeze.

He would swear he felt Amy's heart pounding against his back, even though he was insulated by his cloak, her blanket, and both their layers of clothing. Her hands, clasped together about his waist, were white knuckled with strain.

"God's blood," he said, "you have me in a death grip. The basket handle is digging into my side."

"Sorry." Her arms loosened an entire half inch, then tightened again when the horse gave a snort.

"Are you all right back there?" he asked with a sigh.

He hadn't the slightest idea what he'd do if she weren't.

"I'M FINE," AMY
ground out between gritted teeth. She wondered how long it would take to ride a mile and a half. It felt like forever already. "But snowflakes are tickling my nose."

"Feel free to let go of me long enough to brush them off."

She shook her head violently.

"Does it still seem a long way down?"

"My eyes are closed."

That was the only way she could bear it. Even pressed against Colin's warm back, she felt unsafe. Her heart skittered, and her legs were getting numb from squeezing tight around the beast's prickly body. It was ridiculous, and she knew it—even country bumpkins were comfortable sitting a horse.

But telling herself that didn't keep her from trembling.

"Cold?" Colin asked, apparently feeling her body quake.

"Yes." Better to let him think that was the reason.

"I warned you we needed to go quickly."

When the horse sped up, she yelped, and Colin scrambled to right the trunk, swearing under his breath. If she'd needed any more confirmation that she fit poorly in his world, she had it now.