“I would like it to, and seeing your reaction, I will assume that it has.”
That startled her enough to quiet whatever response had been hanging on the tip of her tongue.
Eventually, the conversation shifted toward the stables, then Diamond, then stories Anne had not told him before. She talkedabout riding with her father before sunrise, about growing up in Yorkshire, about the loneliness she felt when he passed.
Dorian listened more than he spoke, and gradually Anne relaxed. Then he said something ridiculous about one of the younger trainers nearly falling directly into a water trough during morning exercises. To his utter surprise, she let out a genuine laugh that he had never heard before.
The sound caught him completely off guard because suddenly, she looked younger, lighter, as if grief had loosened its hold long enough to let something beautiful return.
She caught him watching almost immediately. He hesitated longer than usual, then spoke honestly.
“You should laugh more often.”
Her smile faded slowly. “I used to,” she admitted.
The quiet sadness in her voice settled heavily between them.
“Sometimes,” she continued after a moment, “it feels wrong.”
“What does?”
“Being happy. Sometimes I feel as though I am forgetting him if I stop hurting too much,” she said softly.
Dorian understood far too well.
“Sometimes,” he said carefully, “we feel as though grief is the only proof that those we lost mattered, but you are allowed to miss someone and still live your life. You are allowed to laugh without betraying what you lost.”
She was quiet for a moment, then whispered some gratitude that he barely heard. He had known loss, the most painful kind, but he did not feel the need to say so in that moment. He only wished to make her feel better.
The ride had taken them farther than either of them had originally intended, far beyond the borders of the estate. The sky had begun to darken, but Anne did not mention it, and he was not about to do so either, for he was enjoying her company too much.
She rode slightly ahead, Diamond moving with an easy, rhythmic confidence that had only fully returned to him since she had returned to him. Dorian kept pace beside her without comment, though his attention often drifted to her rather than the landscape. It had become an increasingly difficult habit to break, one he had stopped pretending was accidental.
The path ahead narrowed toward a shallow stream cutting across the field, its surface broken by small stones and softened banks from recent rain. The water itself was not deep, barely reaching the horses’ lower legs, but the ground leading into it had been churned unevenly.
Dorian noticed too late that Anne had already guided Diamond toward it.
“Anne,” he said sharply.
She turned slightly, just enough to register the tone. “It is a crossing,” she replied. “I have used it before.”
“That does not mean it is safe.”
Anne gave him a look that suggested he was being unnecessarily dramatic, then eased Diamond forward anyway.
For a moment, everything seemed fine. The horse stepped into the water, steady and controlled, his hooves breaking the surface cleanly. Then the ground shifted. The slick stone beneath the streambed rolled just slightly under the horse’s weight, and his footing faltered. The horse jolted, and Anne’s balance shifted with it.
Dorian moved before his thoughts caught up. “Anne!”
He was already off his horse, and the distance between them disappeared in a few fast strides, his boots striking wet ground as he crossed.
Anne had barely begun to correct her position when his hand closed around her waist, pulling her down and into him before she could fully lose control of the saddle.
The force of it steadied her instantly, though it left her breathless for a moment. Diamond, freed from her weight, regained his footing with a sharp shake of his head and a low snort, stepping away as though nothing had happened.
Anne did not immediately move, nor did Dorian release her. His arm was locked around her waist, holding her securely against him in a way that felt instinctive. Her hands had come up automatically, one pressed against his chest to steady herself and the other braced lightly against his shoulder.
Her breathing slowed gradually as the shock faded. She seemed to become acutely aware of how close they were standing, and of the hand on her waist that had not moved away.
