Page 30 of Lady Len and the Mysterious Mac

Si was glad the old groom had enjoyed himself the night before. Lord knew there weren’t so many opportunities around Leod.

“I wasnae expecting ye today.” Gawyn cast a shy glance at the bride.

Bugger. Everyone would be expecting the two of them to be tangled up in wedded bliss for days and days, though with the Gathering, he could ill afford it. A ready-made excuse. This once, he was grateful for his father’s plotting.

“No tour of the grounds would be complete without stopping here,” he answered blithely.

“Of course, milord,” Gawyn agreed. Then, smiling at Ellen he explained, “Si always did have a fondness for the horses. Even as a bairn, I think he preferred four legs to two.”

She chuckled at that, and it made Si’s heart beat three steps too fast.

“Gawyn,” he introduced the man to Ellen. “At your service any time you wish to ride.”

Her face turned from cautious concern to horror, and she took a step backwards.

“D’ye ride often?” Gawyn asked her.

She shook her head vigorously. His refuge, it seemed, would not bring her the same solace. At least not yet.

“In that case, you must be introduced to Buttercup. A gentler horse you’ll never meet,” Si coaxed.

“In this life, or the next,” Gawyn agreed.

Frowning a little, she stepped nearer to the pearl-colored horse, who chuffed a friendly greeting.

Si reached out to stroke the mare’s silky nose and offered her a bit of carrot from his sporran.

Ellen watched the interaction, and he thought he heard another tiny bubble of laughter when the horse nuzzled into his hand, searching for another morsel.

“D’you want to pet her, milady?” he asked.

Her agitation returned, but she reached out to pet Buttercup, her eyebrows shooting up, when at last she touched the velvety soft nose.

Si reached back to scratch the horse between her ears, and Buttercup bobbed and chuffed again, causing the lass to snatch her hand away. He’d never encountered anyone who feared horses, but he supposed they must be rather overwhelming to a person so much smaller than they were. Perhaps she really was a city lass through and through. Still, when Buttercup settled, she reached out hesitantly all on her own and stroked the horse’s nose once more, and Si was ridiculously proud on her behalf.

Anybody could be won over by the right horse.

“You really don’t ride?” he whispered close to her ear. “Have you never been taught?”

Her face fell, and she lowered her arm once more.

“Dinna fash.” Si patted her shoulder. “I’ll teach you.”

When she continued to stare at the floor, he tipped her chin up to face him.

“Milady Ellen, ’tis no matter. I shall teach you.”

She sucked in the inside of her cheek, but nodded her agreement, though her eyes looked so sad it nearly broke him. Then the sadness was gone, replaced with a piercing determination.

“Have we a sidesaddle, Gawyn?”

“Aye, milord. That is, we’ve…”

Si closed his eyes. “My mother’s old saddle, is it?”

“Aye. ’Tis in fine condition. I’ve kept it oiled.”

He swallowed. Decades the groom had kept his mother’s saddle so that if ever the day came when Si wanted it, the thing would be ready. Had he known, he’d have told Gawyn not to bother, but now he was glad.