She laughed, almost maniacally. “Are you not familiarwith Aesop? Slow and steady wins the race. You were the hare and you lost. Don’t ever come here again.”
She spun on her heel and began marching toward the residence.
“Was she a difficult birth?”
Having taken only a half dozen steps, she swung back around. He’d not moved from his spot. “Why do you care?”
“I can’t stop thinking about you being alone. I want to put my fist through her father’s face, for how hard his absence must have made everything for you.”
Damn him, for the true remorse she heard in his voice, the anger, the understanding of what she might have endured. “I assume you rode here.”
“I did.”
“Shakespeare?”
He gave a small nod.
“I’ll need to change. Meet me at the stables.”
If he’d grinned with triumph or gloated, she’d have gone to the residence, locked herself in the library, and buried herself in a book, leaving him to wait hours for her. Instead, he merely said a quiet “Thank you,” and walked away.
He’d had her horse readied and waiting by the time she’d joined him at the stables. While he’d known she’d probably hate it, he’d ensured the grooms were nowhere about, so he had the privilege of placing his hands on her waist and lifting her onto the saddle, even knowing she would take advantage and send her horse into a gallop before he himself was mounted.
He hadn’t wanted to hoist her up. Instead, he’dwanted to draw her nearer. But he’d given up the right to those lips, her throat, her murmurs, and her sighs. However, he had taken his time, raising her slowly, relishing the feel of her waist against his palms.
Now they raced over the open fields and through the occasional copse of trees. If he put more effort into it, he could probably beat her, but he wasn’t quite himself, not since her daughter had utteredI love youwith such uncompromising conviction. The words coming from her had undone him to his very core.
He had planned to leave as soon as the party was over. Party. It had been no such thing. A party was jubilation, crowds, friends, and family gathered about in celebration. Not dolls with lifeless eyes. Not her mother only.
Her mother. A fierce goddess, a warrior, a queen. Who had threatened him with destruction if he harmed her precious child, and her tone had left him with no doubt she would indeed keep her vow. Not that he had any intention of hurting the girl. Quite the opposite. He wanted to protect her as much as he wanted to protect her mother. Even if the woman needed no guardian.
And was in danger of outdistancing him by a great deal.
Turning his attention to the matter at hand, he urged Shakespeare to increase his speed, and the gelding didn’t disappoint. Knight had always enjoyed these races against Regina. She was a fine horsewoman and provided competition. Normally their encounters ended in a draw, but this afternoon, she was going to win. Even if he hadn’t been initially distracted withthoughts of her daughter, he could tell by the manner in which she rode she was determined to best him.
Regina didn’t know if she’d ever ridden so hard in her entire life. She needed to escape the feel of Knightly’s hands closing around her waist before he lifted her onto the saddle. The wondrous sensation of her hands cupping his strong shoulders for support just as her feet left the ground.
Slowing, she guided her mare to the left, toward an area where the trees grew thick, nourished by the waters of the nearby stream. She shouldn’t lead Knightly there, and yet it seemed to be calling to her. Or the memory anyway. A night when a full moon had reflected on the dark waters, and then the moonbeams had encompassed them as they swam naked.
When the stream came into view, she drew her horse to a halt and waited. Until he arrived, dismounted, and came to her. Once more his hands were upon her waist and hers upon his shoulders. Slowly, so very slowly, as though he possessed the strength and power to extend the moment into an eon, he lowered her down. They stared at each other, their breaths coming quickly from the exertion of riding. And quite possibly something more.
“Reggie—”
She broke free of his clasp and walked to the water’s edge. He joined her there, to stare at the flowing stream. Somewhere birds tittered. A couple of robins seemed to be arguing. She didn’t want to consider that perhaps they were mated, that they’d once loved and filled a nest with eggs and were now at discord.Squirrels chatted. A fish splashed. Life carried on, even when she was in turmoil, hating and loving at the same time. She dared to shift her view slightly until she could appreciate the cut of his profile. Smooth lines, but bold.
“It wasn’t difficult,” she finally said quietly.
Slowly, he turned his head toward her as though fearful if he moved too fast, she might stop speaking.
“The birth,” she clarified. “It wasn’t difficult. I don’t think. My experience is somewhat limited. Certainly, I couldn’t mistake it for being on a picnic, but when I held her... I would do it all again.”
His gaze was intense as he studied her, and an emotion she couldn’t read resided within the blue depths. “I’m sorry you went through it alone, more than I can ever express.”
“My maid, Millie, was with me. And I had a midwife.”
“Still, her father should have been there to care for you.”
She offered him a wry smile. “Men have avoided the birthing bed since the dawn of time.”
