Sawyer did not understand how this could have possibly happened.

The last time they'd gone for a ride, his father had practically called him out in front of everyone for idling at the back of the group with Blair. And now, he'd simply left the two of them behind altogether.

"I cannot believe they left us," he huffed beneath his breath, assessing the situation with a frown. He turned to Blair, who merely shrugged off his comment. "What the blazes were you doing trailing so far behind everyone anyway?"

Blair shuffled her feet, looking down at them before peeking up at Sawyer between her lashes. "His Grace mentioned to me that you were feeling quite ill this morning. And he feared you weren't well enough to ride, that you'd end up toppling right from your horse. He even said he'd seen you do it before." She shrugged again. "His Grace then said we'd have to keep a close eye on you. I think he was likely jesting in part, but when you ended up falling behind me, I thought perhaps a slower pace might be better." Her expression twisted wryly. "I did not expect for it to be me who toppled from my horse, but that is rather beside the point."

Something foreign and odd twisted in Sawyer's chest at Blair's words, at her concern. But then he digested the rest of what she was saying, and his frown deepened.

"I am not even remotely ill, and I definitely did not mention such to my blasted uncle. Nor have I ever toppled from my horse." Sawyer pinched the bridge of his nose. "You know, just because he is a prince does not mean you must believe every word he says. In fact, I advise against it."

With a roll of her dark eyes, Blair said, "And why would I have had any cause to doubt him?"

Sawyer shook his head, not knowing about to say about the whole thing.

So instead, he turned to his horse—his one, singular horse—and gestured to it. "If you wish to ride back. my lady, I will walk."

Blair cocked a brow at him. "I did not know you to be a gentleman, Sawyer Pearce."

"And why would you assume otherwise?" Sawyer retorted dryly.

"You kissed—"

"Besides that." Honestly, one would think Sawyer had completely ruined Whitley and her reputation with the way Blair was glaring at him.

"Well, I—"

But it appeared Lady Blair had nothing else to say. So she huffed her way over to Sawyer's horse.

Sawyer cleared his throat. "Do you need assistance?"

"I most certainly do not," Blair said, swinging her way up onto the horse. He watched as she settled herself, those lips of hers pulled tight. It would be a long way back to Rosecrest with her acting this way the entire time. And Sawyer honestly did not think he would manage.

"Look," Sawyer began awkwardly. "Blair, about what happened with your sister—"

"We do not need to speak of it."

"Yes we do, Lady Blair."

"No, we do not."

Sawyer clenched his jaw. This was going fabulously.

Blair kicked her heels into the horse, and she started forward, back in the direction of the manor. Sawyer hurried along, trying to keep pace next to her.

But it wasn't long before she sighed heavily and said, "This is going to take forever. And I cannot expect you to walk all this way."

"It is fine, my lady," Sawyer said quickly, despite the fact that he was practically out of breath. "There are no alternatives."

"Do not be ridiculous. We can ride together."

Like Sawyer said, there were no alternatives.

"I do not think that a good idea."

"Sawyer."

"Blair, I will walk."

"Just get on the damn horse, Sawyer!' Blair demanded, twisting to glare down at him.

So Sawyer swore beneath his breath, strode to the halted horse, and swung up onto the mare. He positioned himself behind Blair, desperately trying to think of anything that wasn't the way her pants-clad derriere was settled between his legs. Or the way her legs were brushing against his. Sawyer tried to think of anything at all that wasn't how her body was touching his.

But Blair was all-consuming, and it was nigh impossible.

Sawyer did not know what to do with his thoughts, and he also did not know what to do with his hands. All he wanted was to wind them around Blair's waist, but he knew that would not be welcome. So instead, he said, "Let me take the reins."

"No," Blair replied. But it was breathy and short, and Sawyer tried to ignore that, too.

Sawyer grunted, resting his hands on his legs instead. He splayed his fingers over his thighs, digging into them in frustration.

And then the horse began to trot, and Blair's entire body rocked back into Sawyer's. And if that wasn't bad enough, she wiggled. Wiggled.

Sawyer let it go the first time, confident that she was simply trying to find a comfortable position now that the two of them were sharing an entirely too small of a space. But then she did it again, and Sawyer had to force his thoughts to every Godly thing he could think of.

He could not think of very many.

Perhaps he should go to church more.

"Jesus, Blair. Would you stop moving?"

"You cannot expect me to stay perfectly still, Sawyer."

Sawyer groaned. "I swear you are going to be the death of me, Blair Ash."

"Well, we can just go faster—"

"Please, no," Sawyer quickly interjected.

Galloping would not help this situation at all.

They rode in silence for a while. The only thing that could be heard was the birds' chirping and the crunching of branches beneath the horse's hooves. But it wasn't comfortable as it had been before when they'd left Rosecrest. And so Sawyer searched for something to say.

"I am sorry, Blair," he muttered in as soft of a voice as he could muster. "For what happened with Whitley. I did not think it all the way through, I admit. And I will apologize to her tomorrow."

Blair sighed. He felt it. A bit of tension released in her as she sagged back, brushing against Sawyer's chest as she did. The stray hairs that had fallen from her braids were tickling Sawyer's face. He moved them aside, tucking the little pieces back into the pretty twists.

He wasn't sure if Blair realized what he'd done. She didn't say anything about it, which was likely for the best. But she did mutter, "I simply do not understand why you did it."

It was Sawyer's turn to sigh. "I have explained this."

An odd sort of snort was released from the lady in front of him. "I do not believe your explanation."

"What do you believe was the reason, then?" he demanded. "You think I kissed Whitley because I am some brute of a man who cannot keep from kissing any woman who passes him by?"

She shrugged. "Your reputation precedes you, Sawyer."

He wasn't sure why, but it bothered Sawyer to no end that she thought that of him. With a scowl that he knew she couldn't see, he said, "Blair, if I kissed every lady who I encountered alone, then what do you make of our interactions?"

Blair stiffened. And then there was a pause. And a little sniffing noise, too. And then finally she said, "Well, I do not count."

Sawyer resisted the urge to shake the damn lady. He countered, "Oh, you do not? Are you not a woman?"

He could practically hear her roll her eyes. "I am. But I am also different, Sawyer. You must have noticed."

"Oh, I have noticed."

He had definitely noticed. Despite all of his attempts to ignore all the ways that Lady Blair was different, it had been no use. She was impossible to ignore.

She bristled at his words. "See, I told you."

There was a touch of hurt in Blair's voice, though. And Sawyer hated for her to think that being different than other ladies made her any less worthy of a kiss. So he took a chance, winding his arms around her middle. He didn't dare pull her close, but he did lean in so she would hear him loud and clear when he said, "Yes, you are different, Blair. But do you know why?"

Blair had frozen in his arms, but Sawyer did not wish to let go just yet. And finally, he heard a soft voice say, "Why?"

He smiled against her ear. "You are different because even though I do not make a habit of going around and kissing every lady I come across, never in my life have I had to try so hard to refrain from doing so when I am with you."

Her head twisted a little, her eyes flicking to the side. And Blair—usually so bold and brash—almost sounded timid. "What exactly are you saying?"

Sawyer couldn't help but chuckle. He thought his words were relatively straightforward, but perhaps he needed to make it even more apparent. "I am saying that every time you open that mouth of yours to torment me, I wish to shut it by covering it with my own."

Sawyer rocked abruptly forward as Blair pulled on the reins to stop them.

"Get off the horse, Sawyer."

Sawyer jerked back. "Blair, I am sorry, I—"

"Get off the horse, Sawyer."

He did. And then she surprised him, getting down herself.

"Blair, what are you doing?" he breathed as she took a determined step forward. Had he really just thought her to be timid? There was absolutely nothing about this woman that could be considered in such a way.

Blair's eyes dazzled, bright and alive, as she closed the distance between them. "What am I doing?" she asked, those full lips of hers smirking as she spoke. "Getting you to shut your stupid mouth by covering it with my own." And then she added, mumbling, "Couldn't very well do it on the horse."

Sawyer barely had time to register the words. But at the last moment, he did. He couldn't help a weird noise from releasing from between his lips, betraying his reluctant longing for this damn lady and the thought of finally getting to kiss her. His hands flew up, catching Blair's face between them as she stepped into him. And then Sawyer caught her lips with his.

Oh Lord, they were soft. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it completely took Sawyer by surprise just how tender she felt against him. He brushed his mouth over hers again. And then again. "Blair," Sawyer moaned as he traced the tip of his tongue along the seam of her lips, wanting entry to the rest of her.

She gave him what he was seeking, gasping a little as Sawyer deepened the kiss. And then Blair leaned into him, her body molding into his. And Sawyer's entire being vibrated with the awareness of it.

He was so bloody aware of everything about her. And he was also aware of every way he was reacting to her.

And so Sawyer forced himself to break away, releasing her from his grip and stepping back. Because despite his reputation, he did not go about ruining women in the middle of forests.

Her lips were now even more plump, even more tempting. And her deep breaths did nothing to tame Sawyer's want to reclaim her mouth. He wanted to feel those breathy gasps against his tongue.

Blair looked as bewildered as he felt. "Sawyer?"

He tried to slow his heart. "You count."

Her face scrunched up.

"You count as a woman, Blair. Yes, you are different." Sawyer ran a hand over his face, dragging it down. "But god, it's in the very best of ways."

But Blair didn't seem to take to his words. She shook her head a little, lowering it.

"Blair?"

Lifting her head a bit, she glanced away, down the path before them.

Did she still not think herself worthy of a kiss? Even after Sawyer had kissed her with everything he had?

With a sigh, he retook a step toward Blair. And then he touched a finger beneath her chin, urging her to look at him. When she finally did, and Sawyer got to see those big, beautiful eyes, he dropped his hand down, holding it out for her.

"Do you trust me?"

Her gaze fell, warily studying his invitation.

"I want to show you something, Blair. Take my hand," he murmured.

And to Sawyer's great relief, she did.

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