Lottie hadn’t realized that she had veered from the path until she came up against the fence, she was so transfixed. By the powerful but lithe build of the animal literally chomping at the bit, it could only be another Arabian. Except by the way this one fought the line, he was clearly an unbroken one.
“How old is he?”
“Two and a half,” said the handsome groom, happy to chat. “And a proper handful.”
“Arabians can be. Especially in the wrong hands.” Except one look at this modern stable complex and she already knew that she might have misjudged the vexing viscount’s knowledge of horses. “Bred here?”
“Aye, miss.” The groom let out the rope, giving the frustrated horse the opportunity to let off some steam. Instinctively it began to galloparound the exercise field in a circle. “Was it you I saw arrive yesterday with the dowager?”
“Yes. I’m her latest companion.”
He offered her a pitying look. “Then I tip my hat to you.” He did so with a cheeky wink. “For you’re a braver soul than I am.”
“I don’t frighten easily.” Her gaze followed the horse. “What’s his name?”
“Hercules.” The groom gestured to a pasture beyond, where another, much fairer-coated Arabian grazed amongst a scattering of different breeds, including a giant Shire horse and a tiny Shetland pony. “That’s his mother over there—but Juno is as gentle as the breeze and he’s inherited none of her calm temperament. He’s every inch the son of the tempestuous Zeus, so being a handful is in his blood.”
“Which is Zeus?” She squinted at all the horses in the distance, and none looked as majestic as this fine specimen or his beautiful mother.
“Out with the master. He’s the only one with patience enough to ride him.”
As the concept of patience jarred with the ill-tempered man she had met twice and didn’t like, she frowned. “I don’t suppose Zeus is the exact color of whiskey but with a jet-black mane and tail?” That horse had been so jumpy and combative he would try the patience of a saint.
“Aye, miss. That’s him. Snorts and bucks like it’s going out of fashion. This one’s the same.” Right on cue, Hercules took issue with the line and tried to twist out of his bridle. “Resents the rope and it still takes three of us to put him in a harness after five months of trying. We daren’t strap a saddle on him as he’d likely break your neck soon as look at you. But he’s a work in progress, as they say. We’ll either break him eventually or he’ll break us. At this point it could go either way.”
“Maybe he’s still a bit too young to train. Arabians have a great deal of energy and are often stubborn.”
“That they are—even after they’ve been broken. The master has to saddle Zeus himself as that demon will only allow a chosen few to touch him. I’ve had bruises aplenty that prove that I am not one of them.” Thegroom chuckled without any malice toward the animal. “More’s the pity as I’d love to take him out and put him through his paces. But maybe Hercules will let me one day.”
He slackened the line as he approached the horse and released it, then quickly opened the gate by swinging his whole body out with it. Hercules needed no encouragement to fly out of the confines of the exercise yard and gallop into the other field straight to his mother. Within moments, he went from an uncooperative devil to an angel as they watched the transformation in companionable silence. His chestnut tail swished as he munched on the grass beside the mare.
“He’s always a different beast out there.” The groom secured the gate. “Makes me wonder if he’s just one of God’s creatures who is meant to be wild.”
Much like Lottie was.
She always tried her best to conform to the rules but something inherent and unstoppable within her made her break some. Being here in Kent, for example, amongst all the horses and lush, open fields made the urge to jump on the back of one of these horses and gallop so strong it made her heart race.But not today, Satan!While she worked for Lady Frinton, she was determined to be all restraint and decorum.
Restraint didn’t mean that she had to be disinterested though. If she couldn’t ride a horse, surely it couldn’t hurt to just talk about them. “Was Zeus as boisterous and uncooperative at that age?”
He shrugged. “Who knows? The master brought Zeus home fully grown one day four years back. Went to Maidstone to buy a new plow and came back with a face like thunder, a black eye, and an angry Arabian instead. The hows and whys of the transaction remain shrouded in mystery and we all know better than to inquire. Ask anything that his lordship considers an invasion of his privacy and you’ll likely get your head bitten off.”
Much to her chagrin, Lottie found that story intriguing. But it did make her feel slightly better about the master of the house to know that it wasn’t just her he was bad-tempered with. “And Juno?”
“Bought for a king’s ransom a few months later—especially for Zeus—because none of the other horses dare go near him and, frankly, I don’t blame them. But there’s no accounting for taste in matters of the heart, is there? All that matters is that she seems to like him and him her.” The groom sent a smile Lottie’s way, his gaze now one of masculine appreciation. “I’m Bill, by the way. It is lovely to meet you.”
“Lottie,” she said smiling back with the merest hint of flirtation. Not really because she was drawn to the groom inthatway, but because she always made a habit of keeping grooms on her side. Just in case she felt the overwhelming urge to…
No!
She wasnotgoing to ride any of Viscount Wennington’s excellent stable. Especially not when he had it in for her.
“How come a pretty lass like yourself knows so much about horses?”
“I grew up with them. On a farm not ten miles from here.”
“That explains why I immediately took a fancy to you.” Bill folded his big arms, no doubt to impress her with the size of his muscles. “You’re a Kent girl and Kent grows the best ones.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to flatter his ego by telling him that Kent grew the best men too, but she bit it back and forced her eyelashes not to bat, because harmless flirting had always come as second nature to her, particularly where horses were concerned. However, as she was a changed woman, she smiled politely and ignored his blatant smoldering like a prim and proper lady’s companion should. “I don’t suppose you could point me in the direction of the henhouse please, Bill? Only I have to find the perfect egg for Lady Frinton or society might crumble.” Not flirting didn’t mean that she shouldn’t be friendly.
