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The morning air was crisp as the sun had only risen an hour before, and the horses were saddled and awaiting us when we arrived at the stables. It was a grand structure to the side of the house, out of view when one approached via the bridge, but I did not know how such a large building remained hidden. It was tall, with sweeping stone ceilings and an open courtyard in the center. We passed under the opening and our horses stood in the courtyard.
“May I help you into the saddle?” James inquired.
“I think it would be better for me to use a mounting block. I am not skilled enough to achieve the seat with only a hand up.” My neck heated, and I tried to ignore the disappointment flashing over his face.
I walked Luna to the mounting block near the wall and used it to climb clumsily into the saddle, then arranged my skirt over my knees. I was high above the ground, and I took a deep breath to steady my racing heart.
Luna seemed skittish, and I did not blame her. I would not like to carry a woman around on my back, either.
“This way,” James called, and I turned Luna away from the wall in order to follow him. He must think me a madwoman. Caught up in my thoughts, surely I had stared for too long at the cream stone.
We left the immediate grounds and turned up the hills behind Chelton, weaving slowly through the thick trees and continuing upward.
“Would you like to go faster?” James asked.
“This speed suits me well,” I called back. My hands were sore from gripping the reins with such ferocity, and my legs tired from clenching together around the pommels.
“Truly?” he seemed surprised, and I swallowed my frustration.
I had done my part in joining an activity I did not like. Could he not do his part now to extend some patience and grace?
“Yes, truly. I did try to explain that I am not comfortable on a horse.”
James tucked his chin, his brow furrowing. “You mentioned that you were not skilled, I had not realized that it extended—”
“Yes, it does,” I said quickly, my heart hammering. Luna could somehow sense my unease, perhaps, because she picked up her speed. “How do I slow her?”
“You need to relax, Felicity. Luna is tense because her rider is tense.”
“I am trying,” I said, though my voice sounded agitated.
Luna kicked up in speed, and Solis matched her.
“Make her slow, James,” I called, unable to do so myself. I pulled on the reins, but it only seemed to frustrate her. She yanked her head to the side, and I pulled again.
“You mustn’t do that,” James said, trying to guide his horse beside mine. Trees grew thicker and there wasn’t enough room for two horses directly side by side. He reached for the reins, but I could not release them. My fingers had closed around the thick leather cord in a vise grip. We went over the top of the rise, disturbing a bird perched on a nearby tree branch. The bird swooped down and passed Luna’s face. Startled, she reared back on her hind legs.
I squeezed my knees over the pommels, and a scream tore from my throat.
Luna’s front legs hit the ground with a heavy, jarring thud, and she took off, tearing down the other side of the hill and up the next with my scream chasing her.
Wind whipped over my face, and I ducked my head to avoid the branches that hung low and scratched at my hat.
“Stop!” I screamed, though the horse did not obey. I pulled the reins and dug my boots into her side, and by the time we reached the bottom of the next hill, she slowed. She walked toward a bubbling brook, and as soon as she came to a stop, her sides heaving and sweaty from exertion, I slid down the saddle and crumpled to the ground.
Luna walked away to drink from the stream, and I pulled my knees up to my chest and buried my face in them, commanding my breathing to slow and my heart to return to normal. I was on the ground. I was safe. Nothing was going to ever force me onto the back of James’s docile mare again.
Though now my husband was certain to believe me a foolish lady with little sense after witnessing how badly I handled his horse.
The heavy clopping of hooves indicated that Solis had arrived. I heard him come to a stop and James’s boots hit the ground.
“Are you hurt?” he all but yelled, dropping to the ground beside me.
I lifted my tear-streaked face to find him kneeling before me, his green eyes wide and raking over my body.
“She did not throw me,” I managed to say through heaving breaths. It did not matter what I tried, I could not seem to slow my breathing. Panic heightened when I realized that this struggle to breathe was often how I felt before I fainted in a ballroom. The shortness of breath, the alarm coursing through my limbs.
Oh, dear.
