The fay put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. An elegant white mare trotted up in response. “She will take you.”
Darcy eyed the horse. No saddle, bit or bridle, and too small a horse to carry two people.
Elizabeth pointed to the horse’s face. “Look at her eyes.” One was blue and the other gold. Elizabeth tangled her hand in the horse’s golden mane. “Pepper, you beautiful thing, is that you?” The horse nuzzled her ear.
The gnome spat on the ground. “’Tis bad luck, a white phouka.”
Could horses look offended? This one certainly did.
Elizabeth kissed the horse’s cheek. “She has brought only good fortune to me. And what a lovely horse you are! The King himself would be proud to have you in his stables.”
Elizabeth had said the cat was vain, had she not? Darcy added, “The ladies in London would fight over who could ride you.” It was also true. He turned to the gnome. “But how can we ride her? I do not wish to overburden her. Perhaps I should walk beside her.”
“You have dirtied the ground with enough mortal footprints already. You will ride.”
Bareback, with no reins, and double. Darcy hoped Pepper’s gait was very steady indeed. Could Elizabeth ride sidesaddle when bareback?
Pepper obligingly turned her flank to Darcy. No stirrups, either. With trepidation he placed his hands on her back and vaulted onto her. Clumsily, even he would admit that, but successfully.
He held his hand out to Elizabeth. “If you put your foot on myboot, I should be able to bring you up in front of me. At least I hope so.”
Elizabeth took his hand. “I cannot believe I am doing this. I am no horsewoman, even when there is a saddle and reins.”
Darcy smiled down at her. “We will learn together.” Perhaps the air of Faerie was intoxicating. He certainly should not have agreed to this.
He managed to wrestle her up to sit sideways in front of him across Pepper’s back. Her perch was even more precarious than his. “I believe you would do best to hold on to me,” he said huskily.
After a brief hesitation, she linked her arms around him. “If I fall off, I suppose I will simply have to abandon all dignity and ride astride.”
“It might be safer.” Darcy made a valiant attempt not to imagine the sight of her exposed legs. He was having enough trouble pretending he was not intoxicated by the pleasure of having her arms around him.
“I trust Pepper.” She patted the horse’s neck.
Darcy turned back to the gnome. “How do we find the laird?”
“She knows the way.” He spat again and ambled off, muttering, “Mortals and a white phouka in the same day. Fah.”
Pepper turned her head back to look at them with her blue eye, as if asking whether they were ready. Darcy nodded at her resignedly.
It could have been worse. Neither of them fell off when the horse took her first steps, although it was a near thing. Darcy had to grab Elizabeth around the waist to keep her in place. He hoped it was not far to the laird’s...house? Manor? Castle? No, on second thought, he hoped the trip would take forever. Then he need not ever let go of Elizabeth.
Faerie was a very strange place indeed. Darcy was riding bareback on a horse who was also a cat, and Elizabeth was pressed against him, two impossibilities at once. At least Pepper was superbly smooth-gaited, and she appeared to bear the weight of them both easily.
“Do they always ride bareback?” he asked Elizabeth.
“The Sidhe use saddles and bridles, I believe. I had forgotten how hard it is to think clearly when you first come to Faerie.”
“I thought it was only me.” At least that was reassuring.
“Fortunately, it passes after you have been here for a time.”
IF SHE WERE TO WRITEa book of advice for young ladies, Elizabeth decided, she would devote an entire chapter to how one should behave after refusing a proposal of marriage. Do not stay under the same roof as your rejected suitor would be high on the list, along with not allowing him to perform magical spells on you, and do not reveal to him – or to his cousin – secrets you have kept all your life. But the top spot on the list would have to be this: do not spend hours in close physical contact with him by sharing an unsaddled horse.
The list of words she could apply to this experience was extensive: mortifying, humiliating, embarrassing. With his arms circling her waist and the side of her body pressed against his chest, how could she pretend to forget how recently Darcy had been professing ardent love for her? A few days ago she had been shocked when he touched her ungloved hands to heal her burns, and now this!
There were other things it made her feel, too, strange and exciting new feelings like butterflies inside her, but she did not want to admit to those. Resting her head on his shoulder would not help her stabilize her position, so why did she have to keep fighting the urge to do it? Perhaps it was because she felt as if she had just awoken from the nightmare of the glamour forest.
That treacherous, frightening forest. Had she truly spent days there? The agonizing pain of Darcy’s betrayal of her had made the forest a nightmare long before she realized its dangers. Since learning he had known her secret all along, she had discovered the side of him she had always ignored, the part of him that could be generous, clever, well-educated, and all too attractive. He was still proud and occasionallydisagreeable, but that could not outweigh the fact that he had been willing to accept a wife with magic. She had never dared to dream of such a future. But no sooner had she started to trust him, and even to have a few regrets about refusing him, than he had betrayed her in the worst possible way. How could he have said he understood her fear of binding spells and then exposed her to Lord Matlock? Had Colonel Fitzwilliam lied when he said they already knew about her magic to make her lower her guard while they sent for his father to bind her? Those few days of freedom from the fear of exposure had been such a relief, and it had all been lies. Lies that had broken her heart. She had been in tears more often than not during her time in the glamour forest, hating Darcy for betraying her, and hating herself for caring.
