The next day dawned dry and unusually sunny, though the air was brisk. All the same, Ainsley wished to spend some time outdoors. As soon as she had broken fast, she made her way upstairs to change into a sturdy riding habit. Perhaps one of the grooms could accompany her on a ride.

But as she made her way downstairs, she found Callum and James heading out the doors as well.

“Where are you off to?” Callum asked with a smile.

James glowered at her in the most menacing way. Apparently all the vulnerability he’d shown her last night was gone. Burying her disappointment, she told herself it was fine. It would be far easier to ignore him as she’d promised if he wasn’t accessible.

With that in mind, she walked right past him and gave Callum a grin. “To get some fresh air. I love to ride and I can’t resist the sunshine.”

“We were about the ride to the village for some supplies. Perhaps you could join us?” Callum asked.

James made a noise deep in his throat that let both of them know he didn’t approve.

Ainsley hesitated for a moment. She was sure that this wasn’t what Clarissa had in mind when she’d warned Ainsley to keep her distance. But this would be chaperoned, and besides, whenever he looked at her with that glower, she couldn’t resist needling him. “How lovely.”

He made another noise, not unlike a groan. “We’re there on business, not a lady’s shopping trip. And if you can’t keep up, we’ll have to leave you with the groom.”

Ainsley gave him a withering glare. How could she have ever thought him vulnerable? It didn’t matter because she’d have her revenge when she more than kept up. In fact, she’d make sure her horse’s hooves covered him in a nice layer of dust. “Very well,” she gave him her practiced smile, the one she now knew he hated. “Lead the way, Captain.”

His eyes narrowed into slits as he opened the door and gestured for her to exit first. She did so and then waited for Callum, linking her arm in his. It was strange, after what had happened last night, but it was clear that James would not be escorting her. He didn’t seem the least interested in taking her hand on his arm, even if he had wanted to press his lips to hers.

Clarissa was right, he was a rogue.

The grooms had four horses readied and the party set out for the village. It was slow going at first, as everyone settled in, but soon James pressed faster and Ainsley kept pace just behind him. Callum kicked behind her, but riding was what Ainsley loved more than anything else, and she was an excellent horsewoman. Soon, even Callum fell back as she pegged herself at James’s flank.

He looked back, surprise lighting his eyes that she was still with him, which only made her press faster.

Slowly, she gained ground on him until they were neck and neck, galloping across the fields, wind whipping in their hair.

Ainsley let out a laugh that the wind carried away, but joy bubbled inside her. She loved this. This freedom that came with riding like the wind.

His eyes were on her again, but this time they did not hold irritation or surprise but the darkening look of a hunter quarrying his prey.

His long look slowed him just enough that she could use it to break ahead, kicking her horse faster. Let him catch her if he could.

They were approaching the village and triumph sang in her veins. While they hadn’t declared it a race, she had still won, and gloating never sounded like such fun, until she realized that they had left her chaperone and his friend behind.

She’d done the very thing she ought not to.

What was more, her thoughts gave her pause for just a moment, and she pulled up on the reins, slowing the beast and allowing James to pass her at the very end.

As he reached the outskirts of the village, he slowed his animal and she matched him, coming to a stop next to him. “I won,” he grinned.

“It wasn’t a race,” she answered primly, her chin notching up.

He let out a deep laugh then. “Someone is a sore loser.”

“On the contrary,” she sniffed. “Someone who threatened to leave me behind if I didn’t keep up should likely apologize. Again.”

He gave a mock bow on the back of the horse. “My apologies.” Then he moved his horse closer and Ainsley caught her breath. What was he doing? “And I’d like to apologize for last night. I—“

“You already did.” She interrupted not wanting to hear his apology. With her eyes cast down to her saddle, she could see him in her periphery but she couldn’t look him in the eyes now. He wasn’t referring to the insults he’d made but to the kiss and while she knew it shouldn’t have happened, she didn’t want him to say it. A woman’s first kiss shouldn’t be a mistake.

He gave her a nod, but she felt him soften next to her. His hand reached toward her and then he let it drop again. “It was a wonderful kiss, Ainsley.”

She gave a nod of affirmation but she kept her gaze down. “I thought so too. But it shouldn’t happen again.” Words crowded in her mouth. But she couldn’t tell him that she thought him a rogue or that his insults had hurt her pride.

“No, it likely shouldn’t.” He was moving closer still. “Just don’t use my given name, and we’ll be fine.”

Her head snapped up then, her thoughts clearing as this one mystery captured her attention. “Why not? I’m sure many men and women refer to you as such.”

“Less than you’d think.” His eyes were intent upon her. “And a woman hasn’t used it since my mother and that was a long time ago.”

Ainsley gasped. Had his mother died? “My apologies,” she whispered.

“We’re not apologizing, remember?” His look was still soft and he reached for her hand encased in her deerskin glove. “I normally have far more control, but I wasn’t prepared for how much hearing my name would touch me. It’s been so long and it brought back memories of my childhood.”

Unable to push out any other words, she simply nodded her head yes. His words moved her. He wasn’t all swagger and insults. There was a man in there and he seemed to hurt. Finally she managed to ask a question. “Who raised you if it wasn’t your mother?”

“My uncle, the Earl of Rotheport. The former earl, that is.” That made him harden. He dropped her hand and everything changed. His back grew rigid, the lines of his face taut. She didn’t need to ask if it was a happy home. She knew it wasn’t.

Clearing her throat, she moved closer this time. “While small, I think you might have noticed that I am quite lively, strong even.” Her hand reached for his again. Holding it, she gave it a squeeze. “My father says that unloading your burden always lightens the spirit. If you ever wish to tell me about it, I’m capable of sharing your troubles.”

* * *

He blinked at her, slowly, trying to clear the cobwebs in his mind. It felt as though he’d just had several glasses of whisky.

She addled his brain. There she sat, looking lovely. Color in her cheeks from the brisk ride, sparkling eyes and those lips that had felt and tasted as good as they looked. Bloody hell, he would have to remember that now.

But it had been easier to ignore those details when he’d painted her as a spoiled socialite. He’d taken a few of her traits and used them to cast her in a particular shade, because that was easier. When he thought her a woman just like his mother, he could dismiss her. Perhaps his mother had more depth too. He wouldn’t know. He hadn’t seen her since the age of nine and it was difficult to discern these things as a child.

But Ainsley, she confounded him. Her resemblance to his mother should make him hate her the way he hated the woman who abandoned him, but somehow it didn’t.

“That’s kind of ye, lass, but—”

“Was that a Scottish accent?” She raised her brows, her smile growing. “There is a laird buried under the captain and the earl.”

Bullocks, it was like she was looking into his mind.

“There you are,” Callum came riding up next to them. His eyes traveling to their locked hands. Gently, he slid his fingers away from Ainsley’s. He’d hear about this, he was sure of it.

What was it with Ainsley? It was as though all of his carefully constructed guards simply fell away whenever they were alone. He hadn’t told anyone about either of his parents in years.

“Here we are,” Ainsley placed her other hand back on the reins of her horse and kicked it forward to meet Callum. “Where do we go from here?”

James cleared his throat. “I need to find a tailor and possibly a dressmaker.”

Ainsley quirked a brow. “I suppose as captain you need to look spiffy.”

He gave her a withering glance. That kind that most would find frightening. “Very funny. I simply need to have a new sail made. My sailors can repair one, but to fabricate an entire new one is a different matter.”

She giggled, not seeming the least put out by his look.

“She doesn’t seem that intimidated by your fierce face,” Callum said.

“It has a name?” she laughed again.

“I will have you know that sailors and soldiers quake in fear when I give them that look.” James huffed, but a small smile was turning the corner of his lips up.

“Do they?” she tapped her chin. “Men are often afraid of my father too. He is very large and rather loud. But the women who live with him know it’s all a façade.”

James glared, his smile disappearing. “I am not putting up a façade. They are afraid for good reason.”

She rode back over to him. It was wrong to needle him in front of Callum as she was about to do. But he had loudly, publicly pointed out her vanity and he deserved the same in return. And so her voice was whisper soft as she delivered her blow. “Are they, James?”

His face paled and she saw a shiver run down his torso, his hands clenching on the reins. “Ainsley,” he growled out. She honestly wasn’t sure if it was a plea or a command.

“Be honest, would you hurt me?” She couldn’t quite keep the mocking merriment out of her voice and she was sure it showed on her face as well.

He glower grew even darker. “You know I wouldn’t.”

She grinned back at Callum, who was assessing the two of them again. “I knew there was nothing to fear.” Then she kicked her horse forward. “Follow me. I’ll take you to the tailor and the dressmaker.”