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“Thank you, Dawson.”
She waited until the door closed quietly before wilting against the sofa. Instead of being disappointed, she could look at this as a reprieve. Alasdair had coaxed her into agreeing to attempt to mount a horse. They had made plans, and she had waited with such excitement to know he would share this with her.
She had dressed in her finest riding habit and had even donned the matching hat, perching it at a jaunty angle on her head. It was a pity he had been called away. She smiled knowing he would do his best to make it up.
The thought froze her, and her pulse jumped in her throat.
Willow stood and measured her steps to the window, pressing her palm against the surface, imagining she could see the grass and the rolling lawns of the estate. This had been the third time he had been called away. The third time he had cancelled one of their meetings in a matter of two weeks. He had always apologized and made up for it with long conversations, or a walk, or even the picnic they indulged in over the weekend.
She could envision what their future would be like. He was a marquess with untold responsibilities. He would be away a lot, and at times when she needed him, he would be absent. And he would feel guilt, apologize, and do his utmost best to make amends. And the cycle would continue until he grew to resent her.
A deep ache burgeoned inside her, and she closed her eyes against it. She loved him desperately. But how could she go ahead with the small intimate wedding they had planned tomorrow in the chapel at Hadley House? Alasdair had procured a special license, probably in the fear she would change her mind.
A heavy weight settled over her heart as fear slithered through her. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him, but she could not decide which would ravage him more. Marrying him or not marrying him. She pushed the doubts from her mind. Not today. This morning should have been about relearning her beautiful horse, Daisy. Willow pressed her face against the glass, feeling the heat of the sun. How she wished she was brave enough to traverse the path to the stables alone. Grayson had not come home, and Quinton had left for Dorset early this morning. Her father was secreted in his office with the estate manager, and her mother would only bombard Willow with dire predictions of the risks of riding.
Without giving fear the time to take hold of her, she walked from the parlor measuring all of her steps until she exited the house. She gloried in the sun’s warmth, the nip of the breeze as it glided over her skin. She turned left, then strolled toward the copse of trees, feeling the barks and memorizing where they had stood in relation to the stables. Willow walked for a few minutes, the roar of her heart a thunder in her ears, bracing herself to hear the panicked shrill of her name from her mother’s lips or the cry of alarm from one of the servants. When no cry sounded, she pushed her misgivings aside and pressed on, only pausing to inhale deeply, trusting her senses to direct her. She stumbled several times, trying to remember the layout to the stables, but it was not long before she came upon it. The sounds of the soft neighs, the smell of hay, sweat, and leather greeted her. Pleasure and fear coursed through her. The need burned in her, a relentless ache to act without fear, to do something for herself without seeking help.
“My lady!?” A voice rife with alarm spoke. The head
groom.
She shifted toward his voice. “Hello, Thompson. Is Daisy readied?”
The order to prepare her horse had been sent down earlier when it had been believed Alasdair would escort her.
After a beat of silence, he responded, “Yes, Lady Willow.”
“Good,” she said brusquely. “Take my hand and lead me to her.”
He complied, no doubt shocked by her presence and orders.
“Here you go, my lady.”
“Thank you, Mr. Thompson.” She inhaled to steady her nerves. “Please remove the side saddle, and re-saddle her. I will be riding astride.”
“Yes, my lady.”
A few minutes later Thompson directed her to Daisy. All anxiety faded once she heard the snicker of welcome from her beloved horse. A lump formed in her throat and tears spilled down her cheeks. “Oh, Daisy,” Willow crooned, reaching up to hug her neck. “You haven’t forgotten me, have you? Even after all these years.”
A surge of intense love for her animal filled Willow. She had missed her so much. How could she have stayed away for so long? Daisy nuzzled her, and Willow laughed, suddenly feeling free.
She carefully glided around her horse, feeling for the mounting block.
“Let me help you, my lady,” Thompson said softly.
Willow smiled, grateful he had not departed. With his assistance, she was now comfortably seated on top of her horse. Oh.
Anxiety curled through her, and she stilled. As if sensing her fear, Daisy shifted, a bit too suddenly for Willow. Her heart rate accelerated, and she gripped the reins tightly.
You are strong and beautiful.
The ghost of Alasdair’s passionate assurance whispered through her. Willow swallowed. He saw her in such a different light. He thought her so capable, so bold and stalwart. Why did she not believe the same? The painful realization that she was limiting herself, in the same manner her over-protective family did, caused her to release a harsh breath. Willow had been the one to refuse to ride, though Quinton had offered to assist her with riding several times. She was the one who firmly believed Alasdair would see her as a burden. She hardly asked anyone to aid her at Hadley House, and the tasks the servants did for her, would have been the same if she hadn’t been without sight.
A soft moan slipped from her. Could it really be true? She frantically thought back on her life. While she fought with her mother on many things, most of the time Willow stopped herself from doing things because of her own doubts.
No more. Not if I am to be Alasdair’s marchioness. She would need to be even bolder and sure. She would host dinner parties, play with their babies.
Oh God, children. How would she care for them? Before she allowed any other fear to take root, she gently nudged Daisy’s sides. Willow knew the minute they exited the stables. The heat of the sun washed over her skin, and she breathed in the crispness of the air into her lungs. She urged the horse into a slow canter, trusting Daisy to lead her safely.
