Of Fate And Prejudice

Chapter Nineteen

With one arm anchoring Frances to her position before him, Roman carefully guided the horse through the dusty roads to the village. It was a short ride to the village, a mile and a half by his calculations, but given their pace, they would arrive in over an hour. He was tempted to urge the horse to go faster, but knew he couldn't, not with Frances here. He sensed her difficulty in maintaining a suitable position on the horseback, and silently, he cursed himself for not considering her comfort. He should have predicted how incredibly uncomfortable it would be for a woman with child to sit steadily on a horse and how the bumpy roads might add to the unpleasantness of the ride.

But he hadn't thought of that. Indeed, he'd taken no thought for his actions when he invited her on this trip. Something, something he wasn't entirely certain about, had simply compelled him. It was the same thing that had compelled him to spend the night in her bed—the same thing that kept him up longer than was necessary, memorizing her scent and savoring her closeness. He'd felt so connected to her and the baby in her womb last evening that, for the first time in two years, he felt a sense of eagerness. An eagerness that almost felt like excitement.

Almost.

His emotions were a mess. He neither understood nor desired them, yet he found he couldn't control them. Frances stalked his mind as he went about his work that morning, and when he emerged from the lake to find her crying, he took no thought for his unclothed state in his bid to comfort her. Then she threw herself into his arms, and every inch of his body had responded to her nearness. When he'd pulled away from their embrace, her heated gaze had mirrored his desire as they whispered down the length of his unclad form with wonder and open admiration, so that it took every ounce of his willpower not to claim her as his wife in that moment.

Even now, he burned with a long-forsaken desire to entertain a woman. Yet, he knew he couldn't give into it, even if it was well within his rights as her husband. He'd vowed never to consummate their marriage, and he was determined to stay true to his words, no matter how tempting it was not to.

He stole a glance at Frances. She was asleep, her head resting on his chest. She appeared peaceful. He hated having to wake her up, but knew he couldn't let her sleep. If he did, she would lose control of herself, and he'd be unable to maintain a firm grip on her and the reins. They would either suffer an accident, or she might slip off and injure herself severely.

"Frances," he called, tugging her sleeves. She mumbled something, then snuggled closer to him. "You need to stay awake."

"I'm weary of the long trip. The village appears farther than I'd imagined." She straightened, detaching her head from his chest. He hated the feeling of wanting her head back where it was.

"We're moving at a rather slow pace." He frowned. "I'm only just realizing this is not a safe way to travel for a woman in your condition. I shall acquire a wagon for future travels."

"We could go faster."

"No."

"But why?" She peeked up at him, a wisp of hair falling to her forehead.

She was lovely from this vantage point, and not for the first time today, he wanted to lean down and plant yet another kiss on her head. But he shook the thought away. The chaste kiss this morning was a mistake he was unwilling to repeat.

"It's too risky," he mumbled, returning his gaze to the road.

"Imagine the rush of excitement." She twisted in his arms to face him, forcing him to tighten his grip on her to keep her from falling off the side. "With the wind in our hair and faces."

"Indeed." He nodded, and she beamed. "You could also fall off and break your neck," he said, a small smile claiming his lips as he watched her smile disappear.