“For a horse as impressive as he is,” she said, “I thought he would be ornerier.”
“He can be stubborn when he wants to be. He must like you. However, if you want a friendship with him, it will take more than the greeting of an acquaintance.”
“Whatever you are hinting at makes me nervous,” she said.
“I was merely going to suggest you feed and groom him.”
“Feed him?” she gaped. “Only if it’s out of a bucket. I’ve seen the size of a horse’s teeth before.”
I laughed. “A bucket it is. We can work up to you feeding him an apple out of your hand.”
Spotting the feed sack, I picked up a tin pail and scooped some oats into the bottom. I carried it back to Miss Lewis, who had removed her other glove and shoved them both into a skirt pocket that was lost in the large folds of her expansive skirt. Taking the pail from me, she seemed to fortify herself before stepping forward and lifting the bucket much higher than Champion could eat from.
I stepped in and lowered it to the correct height. Champion stuck his head in with such force that Miss Lewis would have dropped it had I not been assisting her.
“He has a big nose, and this is not the largest bucket,” I explained.
She nodded, but I could only guess at what she was thinking. When Champion finished, I added some hay to his feeding trough and unlatched his stall door. “Are you ready for grooming now?”
She shook her hands at her side. “I can certainly handle a brush.”
She appeared to be gearing up for a race or competition of some sort, not a brushing down. I turned my head to hide my smile and went into the stall first, pulling Champion’s brush off a hook.
When I pivoted to hand it to her, I found she had not followed me inside. “Are you coming?”
“Yes, of course.” She inched past Champion, her back to the stall wall, strewn with dirt. She did her best to smash her wide skirt in front of her, but even with Champion’s larger stall, it was a tight fit.
“Remind me to have you wear a riding habit the next time we come to the stables.” I shook my head. “Your dress is not the most suitable for this activity.”
“You’re right. But then I will have to endure Nora’s gloating. She was the one to pack my habit when I certainly would not have.”
Nora must be her maid’s name. I had forgotten it. Their relationship was unique. Miss Lewis seemed to care about people more than anything else—a trait I could not help but admire. I handed her the brush. “Start with his mane and brush in the direction of his hair.”
She took to the task quickly, smoothing Champion’s sleek fur until it gleamed. The care and attention she gave nearly made me jealous of my horse. He was utterly relaxed, and I leaned against the stall wall beside Miss Lewis, enjoying the picture.
Champion reached his head over and nudged Miss Lewis. The touch made her shriek with terror. She threw the brush in the air and launched herself at me. Her hands came up around my neck in the very same fashion they had in the pond when we had been swimming for our lives.
My hands instinctively wrapped around her back. I looked down at Miss Lewis’s frightened brown eyes accentuated by the most luscious of lashes. Heavens, she was beautiful. I could feel her heart pounding in herchest against mine. And I wasn’t certain which of ours was beating faster.
“It’s all right,” I soothed, my hand moving of its own accord in a small circle on her back. “He isn’t trying to hurt you. When Champion nuzzles you like that, it is his way of thanking you.”
She stole a glance at Champion, pushing into me to create more space between her and my horse. “You’re joking!”
The last thing I wanted was to make her more nervous of horses than she already was. “I swear it. Horses loved to be groomed. It’s a form of bonding. They will even groom each other out of affection.” My hand suddenly stilled on her back. It felt too much like its own form of bonding and affection.
“I don’t know if I believe you,” she breathed. She slowly lowered her arms off my neck, dragging them down my chest.
My heart stuttered.
Sudden desire warred with my commitment to safeguard my heart. This was about the horses, about the challenge, not about whatever weakness I was developing in Miss Lewis’s presence. A horse in the neighboring stall whinnied, and Miss Lewis’s head turned toward it.
I took the moment to catch my breath. I summoned a casual smile to hide the myriad of feelings pulling at me and addressed her mounting concern toward the animals. “Horses respond to touch much the same we do,” I said, my words careful. “They’ll scratch each other’s back with their teeth.”
“I had no idea.” She cleared her throat and stepped away from me, her eyes darting everywhere but my way. “Forgive me for throwing myself at you . . . again. I don’t know what overcame me.”
I nearly teased her and told her that I had that effect on women, but that was not the impression of myself that I hoped to portray. “You were scared. It was understandable.” I picked up the brush by my feet and handed it to her.
She swallowed and plucked it from my hand, starting again with her grooming—hesitant but determined.
