Free Before The Scandal by Suzanne Enoch

his arm as they left the morning room.
    “I have to change my dress,” she said, rushing her words and half worried that he would change his mind.
    “I’ll wait outside, shall I?”
    “Yes, please.”
    She hadn’t worn her sea-green riding dress in over three years, but luckily it still fit. Swiftly she buttoned it up the front and stomped into her riding boots, then hurried down the stairs again.
    Saunders opened the door for her, and she took a breath to steady herself. “I shall return shortly,” she said, and walked onto the front portico. And burst out laughing. “Oh, my.”
    Phineas lifted his scarred right eyebrow. “I will assume my mount amuses you,” he said dryly.
    “The poor dear. What’s his name?”
    “Saffron. He’s reputedly a butter chestnut. Shall we?” With a glance at the groom holding the bridle of the bay that had been saddled for her, Phin turned Alyse to face him and then lifted her up into the saddle.
    The sensation of being lifted effortlessly into the air left her breathless. No one did such things for her any longer. Heavens, no one had even given her flowers in over four years—except for last night.
    Phin led the way down the drive, and she urged her mare up to keep pace with the striking Saffron. Belatedly she noticed the groom falling in behind them. A chaperon. It had been years since she’d warranted one of those.
    “Two conversations within two days,” she said aloud, trying to collect herself. “You’re not becoming infatuated with me, are you?”
    “I’ve always been infatuated with you,” he returned easily, his gaze focusing on her mouth. Trouble , she repeated to herself as he looked away again. He was trouble, and that was something she couldn’t afford.
    “I suppose that explains the plethora of frogs I received.” Alyse was relieved that her voice sounded level and amused. She had learned some things over the past few years about hiding her true feelings.
    “I can safely promise there will be no more frogs.” He looked over at her again. “After all, you’re not twelve any longer.”
    “Not for thirteen years.”
    “I’m long past being seventeen, myself.” He hesitated. “How is it that you’re unmarried, Alyse? Even at fifteen you had every lad in East Sussex following you about.”
    She snorted. “You don’t mess about with chitchat, do you?”
    “I’m not a chit. And as a soldier I’ve found it wise to speed to the heart of the matter as swiftly as possible.”
    “Why do you wish to know?” she asked, not certain what she wanted to hear him say.
    “Because I’ve made a great many mistakes in my life, and I’ve begun to think that leaving here just when…just when I did was the largest of them.” He headed them down toward the narrow path along the river.
    “After you hear what happened, you may count yourself grateful.” She couldn’t stop the abrupt bitterness in her voice. Oh, she’d been so young, and so stupid.
    “Technically, I believe you and I may already be married,” he said unexpectedly, “considering the ceremony that William performed for us. We might have been only eight and ten, but I do think it’s a possibility.”
    Alyse laughed reluctantly. “You only pretended to marry me so that you could pretend to go off to war and be killed in battle to leave me a grieving widow.”
    “In hindsight it was probably more entertaining for me than for you.” He stopped Saffron and dismounted, circling around to slide his arms around Alyse’s waist and lower her to the ground. His warm hands stayed where they were for a moment too long. “Wait here,” he instructed the groom, and offered her his arm.
    She wrapped her fingers around his crimson sleeve, and side by side they made their way down to the willow-edged riverbank. “I don’t want to tell you what happened,” she said slowly.
    “Then don’t. I intend to find out, though, and I prefer to hear it from you. If it helps, I’m nowhere close to perfection