Sawyer watched Lady Blair for several minutes, wondering why she had her nose pressed to the glass pane that led onto the balcony. He was supposed to be paying attention to Tory's musical talents, but considering she had very little, it was rather challenging.

But then Sawyer finally tore his gaze away from Blair to look beyond the blurry glass, and he understood. Chuckling, Sawyer waited for a break in the music before walking up behind Blair.

He lowered his voice so as not to be listened to by the rest of his prying family. But he still wished for the lady to hear him, so he leaned in close, settling his head just above her shoulder. "See, Blair? It is all going swimmingly."

Blair startled, and Sawyer chuckled as he leaned back a bit to give her space. Blair threw a scowl back at him.

"I am quite certain they were arguing a moment ago."

She had a brown tendril stuck on her lip. How it had gotten there, Sawyer couldn't be certain, but he was trying very hard not to pluck it and put it back in its place amongst the rest of her mass of thick, unruly hair. Tonight she was back to wearing a rather unbecoming gown, but her eyes were glowing. And that was enough to make Sawyer shift on his feet, pushing his nerves down at the sight of her.

Nerves? What the devil were those doing here?

Sawyer cleared his throat. "Well," he said, pushing out a nonchalant drawl. "They may have been quarreling before, but now they are dancing. So I'd call that a success, wouldn't you?"

Blair made a noncommittal grunting noise that was undoubtedly not ladylike. She spoke into the windowpane, her breath fogging the glass as she said, "I searched for her all afternoon to explain the misunderstanding in the library, but she was impossible to find."

Ah, the library. Sawyer supposed he should have forewarned Simon about that. But he had spent most of the afternoon replaying the moments just before him and Blair had been interrupted. Thinking about the entire interlude that they'd had in the Rosecrest library, Sawyer frowned and asked, "Why is it that your sister cannot discern between Simon and me, but you seem to know the moment I appear?"

"You have an...air about you." Blair did not look back at him, but she waved a lazy hand around, twirling nothing between her fingers as if that explained it. "And I suppose Whitley has hardly spent any time with you to notice."

"An air?" Sawyer repeatedly blandly, trying to sound as though he did not care to know what she meant by that.

Of course he did not care.

"An air," Blair repeated. "You know...pompous, arrogant, high-handed—"

"You are simply listing synonyms for the same thing."

"Am I? I did not notice."

Sawyer shook his head. "You do not spare me with your words, do you, my lady?"

She twisted away from the window. Finally. But there was barely space between them, and Lady Blair's bodice practically brushed against Sawyer's waistcoat. He refused to look down, but he knew he should step away. And honestly—really, truly honestly—he had been about to do just that. But then...then Blair's dark eyes looked up at him in a way that told Sawyer she didn't want him to.

It left Sawyer utterly confused. Because her words were not similarly encouraging. "I did not think you required sparing," she said crisply. "I did not think anything or anyone could touch the great Sawyer Pearce."

Sawyer found himself thinking it would be very much alright if Lady Blair Ash touched him. But then the moment was diffused by the sight behind Blair.

Simon and Whitley were no longer dancing. And not only that, but Whitley's face was scrunched up in a way that told Sawyer everything he needed to know.

"Oh dear," Sawyer muttered. "He must have told her."

Blair spun back toward the window and instantly groaned. "Now look what you've done," she hissed.

"Me?"

She glared over her shoulder. "Yes, you!" Blair's head jerked then like she was going to look back toward their siblings, but Sawyer had caught her eyes, and she paused. He held his breath, but then the lady began narrowing her gaze in accusation.

A flurry of midnight fabric began toward them, catching Sawyer's attention. Whitley rushed to the edge of the balcony, and Blair immediately took off to meet her. Sawyer couldn't quite describe the look upon the blonde Ash sister's face, but it was something between disappointment and embarrassment, and he felt his first pang of guilt.

He had never intended to hurt the lady's feelings.

And then there was Simon...

Sawyer sighed, looking at his brother's crestfallen expression. His good, honest brother.

Perhaps Sawyer had made a misjudgment, after all.

-

The next morning, Sawyer strode out into the summer air, hoping that a nice ride might help him to sort through the many foreign and uncomfortable feelings that had arisen last evening. He made his way into the stables, breathing in the satisfying earthy smell. And as he began to saddle a mare, his two uncles appeared before him, seemingly out of nowhere. Theo whistled as he walked around the horse, almost as though he was circling his prey. Will had a smirk that spread slowly across his face.

"You have been causing trouble with the Ash sisters, it would seem," Lord Trotten began.

Sawyer rose a brow even as his stomach dropped. "How do you know of that?"

A brow was raised in return. Arched. "So it is true?" Theo asked.

Sawyer grunted.

"Your father told us," Will said, leaning against the side of a stable wall, lobbing an apple in the air.

Sawyer swore. He wasn't sure how Lord Farrington had caught wind of the situation with the Ash sisters, but that wasn't his primary concern.

"So...mother?" he asked with a grimace.

Theo gave him a slow nod.

"I would hide if I were you," Will whispered. Dramatically. Meaning he hadn't really whispered at all.

But there wasn't time for that because Sawyer's father suddenly appeared in the doorway to the stables with fury etched into his features. And behind him popped in the face of Mr. Rockwell.

"I told you," his father began, storming toward him. A finger was already shaking in Sawyer's direction.

"Father, I—"

Lord Farrington cut him off, which was just as well because Sawyer wasn't sure of what he was going to say. Out of the corner of his eye, Sawyer noticed Will and Theo slipping from the stables with gloating looks, and he resisted the urge to glare at them.

"Honestly, Sawyer. How hard is it to simply leave the ladies alone?"

There was a snicker from behind his father, and Sawyer scowled at the American man who was propped against the doorway into the stables.

"What are you even doing here?" Sawyer shot at him.

The redhead shrugged, a little smile playing about his face. "Came along for the show, I suppose." And then he winked—actually winked—at Sawyer.

Sawyer merely rolled his eyes as his father started up again.

"The only reason that I am allowing you to attend today's ride is to make amends. First, you may do so with Lady Blair, and then later on with Lady Whitley."

Twisted hope rose in Sawyer, and he longed to push it down.

What the bloody hell was happening to him?

"Lady Blair is coming?"

His father narrowed his eyes at him. "What just happened?"

Forcing a blank expression, Sawyer asked, "What do you mean?"

"That—" His father pointed at him. "That look on your face. What was that?"

Sawyer shifted his eyes, trying to avoid the accusation. "There was no look on my face."

Lord Farrington leaned back, folding his arms. "Oh, there was a look on your face."

"No there wasn't," Sawyer snapped, growing weary of the exchange.

"Definitely a look on your face," Mr. Rockwell added from behind.

Sawyer twisted to glare at him.

Mr. Rockwell shrugged, making Sawyer roll his eyes again.

After one last warning glance in his direction, Sawyer's father gave up and strode out of the stables. Mr. Rockwell was not far behind him.

Letting out a breath that he hadn't even realized he'd been holding, Sawyer mounted his mare. He slowly made his way to the edge of the property, waiting for the others who had wished to join their ride. And as they all took off into the wooded area, Sawyer lingered in the back.

It was mostly because he was trying to avoid, well, everyone. He did not wish to see the mocking faces of his uncles nor of Mr. Rockwell. He also did not yet know what he was to say to Blair. And Sawyer definitely did not wish to speak further with his father.

The morning was rather crisp. Dew hung like tears on the tips of leaves. And Sawyer felt a weird sort of melancholy that he wasn't used to.

Surprisingly, Blair hung back as well. She and her mare were only a few strides in front of Sawyer. That long braid of hers hung down her back along a stick-straight spine. She had yet to speak a word to Sawyer, and he knew her to be mad just by the way she was sitting. It would be easy to trot up alongside her, to seek her company, to apologize for being...an ass. But Sawyer couldn't bring himself to urge his horse along any faster.

So they continued on like that for a while. Blair seemed to be trailing further and further behind the rest of the group, which meant that Sawyer was too. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't precisely mind. It was quiet between them except for the crunch of earth beneath the horses' hooves. The chatter of the others faded completely. The trail curved, and Sawyer could no longer see his father or Mr. Rockwell or any of his family. Perhaps they were purposefully giving them space, but Sawyer didn't reckon they realized just how much there was.

There was a semblance of peace. And Sawyer was scared to approach Blair and break it.

But then it was broken anyway. Some blasted furry animal darted out before Blair's horse, causing it to rear backward with a whiny that echoed through the thick trees. Sawyer immediately pulled back on his reins but wasn't quick enough to dismount before Blair fell backward, unable to hold onto her bucking horse.

With a barely-heard shriek and a considerable thud, she landed in a pile of brush to the side of Sawyer.

And then her horse took off sideways through the bushes—the big spooked girl unable to cope with a bit of fluff running beneath her feet.

Sawyer swore, swinging down from his own horse and quickly making his way to the tossed lady. She'd seemed to curl into herself, and Sawyer's heart rose into his throat at the sight.

"Blair," he said breathlessly while bending to touch her shoulder lightly. At his gentle prodding, Blair rolled over, wincing as she did. And Sawyer's chest tightened further. "Are you hurt?"

His eyes flicked over her—her head, covered in all that chestnut hair, her trim figure in that riding jacket, her legs in those damn pants—and he breathed a little easier upon seeing that there didn't appear to be anything to be concerned over. Nothing was twisted; nothing was bleeding.

But Sawyer knew well enough that some injuries were hidden further within.

With a grimace, Blair stretched her legs out and muttered, "I do not believe so." However, her face tightened further as she attempted to sit up.

Sawyer was quick to stop her. "Careful, dear."

Blair swatted at the hand that Sawyer had put out. "Do refrain from calling me that. I am quite fine."

Chuckling, Sawyer stepped back. He gave her a little smile as she insisted on sitting--and then insisted upon standing—testing her sore limbs as she did.

Lady Blair was going to be just fine.

But Sawyer most definitely was not.

It was partly because they were now trapped together, and he would be forced to plead apologies for his reckless actions with her sister.

But it was also because they were quite aways from Rosecrest. And the others had not seemed to hear their incident, having managed to leave Blair and Sawyer behind altogether.

And so it was just him. And Lady Blair. And one horse.

And Sawyer was quite confident he was not going to survive the morning.

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