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How can I trust a man who doesna even ken who he is himself?
Still, she couldn’t bring herself to argue any further with him. Perhaps Chrisdean was right, she thought. Overcoming her fear would mean that she would gain her independence and that if it came to it in the end, she could steal a horse and run away.
Besides, she could hardly think straight when Chrisdean stood so close to her. The warmth and the weight of his hands on her shoulders wiped every other thought from her mind until he was all that remained. She wasn’t proud of it, and she certainly wished that she could do something to stop that sudden infatuation, but all she could do was simply let it run its course.
“Fine,” she said, relenting. “I’ll do as ye ask, but if somethin’ happens to me, ken it’ll be on yer hands.”
“Of course,” Chrisdean said. “If anythin’ happens to ye, I’ll never forgive meself, so ye dinna have to worry . . . I’ll feel verra guilty.”
Nimue couldn’t help but return the teasing smile that Chrisdean gave her, even as she tried to bite her lip and swallow any indication of amusement. When Chrisdean nudged her closer to the horse, though, any hint of amusement left her and was immediately replaced by fear.
Why did I tell him I would do it? I should have insisted!
Chrisdean must have noticed her hesitation, Nimue thought, as he was quick to reassure her. “All ye have to do right noo is let her ken ye. Here,” he said, as he took her hand in his and placed it gently on the horse’s forehead. “See? She’s a verra gentle lass.”
Nimue let Chrisdean guide her hand, the two of them petting the horse for a long while until Nimue’s shoulders loosened and her heartbeat slowed. She could see that the mare had no intention of hurting her, but she doubted that her mother’s horse had held a grudge against her, either. It had been an accident, and there was no guarantee that the same wouldn’t happen to her.
“Are ye ready to mount her?” Chrisdean asked, and the mere thought had Nimue clutching onto his arm in seconds, her fingers clawing at him, her eyes wide as she shook her head.
I canna do it. Why did I ever think I could?
“I canna do it,” Nimue said, this time out loud, looking at Chrisdean as though he were her savior and her executioner at the same time. “Please . . . please, Chrisdean, dinna make me do it.”
With a sigh, Chrisdean dislodged Nimue’s hand from his arm, taking both of her hands in his own. “I willna make ye do anythin’ that ye dinna wish to do,” he said. “But I do think that ye’re overreactin’, lass.”
Nimue couldn’t even argue with that, not when she knew that she was overreacting, too. But what fear was rational, she asked herself. Why should she put herself through such an ordeal when most people around her didn’t do the same to face their own fears?
“Do ye face yer own fears, me Laird?” she asked Chrisdean.
Chrisdean shook his head with a snort, looking at Nimue as though she had said something ridiculous. “I dinna have any fears, lass. If I fear somethin’, I make sure to face it.”
Nimue narrowed her eyes as she watched Chrisdean, looking for any clue that would suggest he was lying to her and that he was simply trying to appear heroic and courageous when in reality, he had fears just as everyone else. The more she watched him, though, the more convinced she became that Chrisdean believed every word that he said.
“How can ye face all yer fears?” Nimue asked. “How . . . how is it possible?”
“Weel . . . I just do it,” Chrisdean said with a shrug. “Just like ye could just get on this horse and take her for a ride.”
Nimue glanced between Chrisdean and the mare, conflicted. Every fiber of her being told her to stay away from the horse, never ride again and stay safe. But knowing that Chrisdean faced his fears gave her the push that she needed to consider mounting the horse at least, even if she couldn’t manage to take it for a ride in the end.
“I ken that ye can do it, Nimue,” Chrisdean said. “I willna let anythin’ happen to ye.”
Nimue looked at Chrisdean, and she could see that he meant it. She could see that he didn’t mind standing by her side for as long as she needed, that he would be there, and that he wouldn’t let her fall. It was that which gave her the courage to step up to the horse and mount it, though she did so rather awkwardly, her hands holding onto the saddle for dear life and her legs finding their place only after some struggle on her part.
Once she was in the saddle, she gave Chrisdean a small, hesitant smile, hoping that it would be enough to mask the panic that she felt. She was certain, though, that the sweat on her brow would give it away instantly.
“Ye’re doin’ weel, Nimue,” Chrisdean said, reassuring her with a bright smile. “Come. Let’s do a round.”
Nimue hesitated, her nails digging into her palms as she gripped the reins. A part of her hated how encouraging Chrisdean was because it made it harder for her to refuse. How could she say no to him when he was trying so hard to help her?
With a steadying breath and a decisive nod, Nimue gave the mare a gentle kick, and she began to trot slowly around the fenced area by the stables. Nimue’s gaze kept finding Chrisdean, who walked next to her as she rode and tried to keep her mind off her mother’s accident. His presence was calming enough for Nimue’s confidence to grow with every step the mare took, even though it soon became clear to her that she couldn’t completely let her guard down, at least not quite yet. After a few laps around the enclosure, Nimue brought the mare to a halt and jumped off, her smile wider than it had been in a long time.
As the stable boy took the mare back to its stall, Chrisdean approached Nimue, raising a cocky eyebrow. “I told ye that nothin’ would happen to ye,” he said.
“And I believed ye,” Nimue pointed out. “Or else I wouldna have gotten on the horse at all.”
“It wasna as bad as ye thought it’d be, was it?” Chrisdean asked. “Ye did a good job, Nimue. I mean it . . . ye ken how I said that I always face me fears?”
“Aye.”
