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Chapter 22
Eloise felt her mouth fall open in awe. Her body shivered from excitement as she tried to absorb the sight. Of course, she’d seen horses before, they were everywhere, but she’d never seen so many cooped up in one place before, nor had she ever been given the opportunity to be so up close to them.
There must have been dozens in here, even if, in her eyes, they appeared in the hundreds. They were separated by breed and size, with the youngest in the far back, and the largest and strongest at the forefront.
Simon chuckled and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in closer to whisper in her ears. “So, I assume you want to see the Shires?”
“But you said—”
“I didn’t say anything. You simply assumed.” He turned to face her again with that boyish smirk of his, but for once, she found it charming rather than condescending.
“I do.”
“Your wish is my command.”
Knotting their fingers together, he pulled her toward a door that separated the sections of the stables down the middle. It was warm-colored and large enough for multiple workers to navigate through and move the horses around with ease.
As the door swung open, a new world appeared before her eyes. If she found the previous section exciting, this was what a horse fanatic could call heaven. It was far larger than any room in the Lyndon estate—it almost seemed larger than the whole estate itself—and despite its strong odor, she found herself reveling in its extraordinariness.
It housed dozens of horses in enclosures larger than the most expensive rooms of an inn, and barricaded off with short wooden fences to keep them in order.
And true to his word, by the far side of the stables rested tall, well-groomed shires, a couple gray, and several more, black. Their manes swayed about the slight breeze majestically, as did the feathering by their hooves. They were left of the Yorkshires, and right of the Norfolks, who were far more sizeable than they, but certainly no more captivating in Eloise’s eyes.
She followed the path that led to their fence as her fingers cautiously trailed the rough wooden posts.
“Would you like to touch one”
“Could I do that?” she asked in disbelief.
“Well, I don’t know. I only own the place,” Simon replied, and she rolled her eyes right before he could pull her in to lay a slight peck on her lips.
Eloise’s face suddenly grew rosy as she stared wide-eyed in shock. No matter how much time they spent together, his off-handed gestures always caught her off-guard.
Simon grinned in amusement, holding her hand tight and guiding her into the Shire den. The stallions appeared puzzled, their large marble-like eyes focused on the unknown figure and scent of Eloise, who must have appeared equally dumbfounded. Her movements were delicate and cat-like, afraid that if she made the slightest of motions, they would become intimidated and back away. It was a ridiculous notion, considering their great size compared to her tiny figure.
“Here,” Simon said, his hand guiding hers toward the smallest-sized mare, “you can pet Anabelle. She’s generally very patient with strangers.”
Eloise held her breath as Simon, with his warm hand placed on top of hers, helped rest her hand on Anabelle’s muzzle. The mare didn’t make a move. It embraced Eloise’s warm—and shaky—palm and huffed in approval. Her light, clay-colored fur felt silky, softer than any fabric she’d have the chance of wearing, and she found it difficult to fight the urge to hug her like a child.
“You can step closer, you know,” Simon encouraged. He walked behind Eloise, holding her shoulders and caressing them in approval. “She’s quite fond of people.”
Eloise allowed herself to do so. Anabelle didn’t attempt to back away and continued to accept her careful strokes with huffs and other sounds of joy. It was the first time in her life she had felt so emotional, and tears prickled Eloise’s eyes as she remembered all the times she had fought for a moment like this. Ever since she was a child.
Simon must have sensed her apprehension as he leaned over her right shoulder a little. “Are you all right?”
She nodded instinctively, though she wasn’t so sure anymore. As soon as she noticed the hot breath on the nook of her neck, he turned her around and offered a warm grin. It was enough to soothe her for now.
“Do you want to straddle her?”
A slight warm and wistful feeling flowed down, deep through her stomach and deep in her core. It wasn’t the thought of straddling a mare for the first time since she was a three-year-old child and under her father’s supervision that made her feel this way—though that was exciting—it was the mere idea of Simon arranging this all for her. He, a stranger not too long ago, went out of his way to make her feel this way. And purely for her happiness and delight.
“Can I?” she asked in eagerness as a tear of pure happiness pricked at her eyes at the thought of it all.
Nodding dutifully, he guided Anabelle, the patient and old mare, outside of the spacious enclosure and helped adjust her in the long-winged corridor. It seemed confused. But as he whispered encouraging words to it, the horse calmed quite quickly, and Eloise was allowed to step closer.
“Stand here,” he instructed as he guided Eloise behind her front legs. He lifted her up to the saddle, and she remained frozen for a moment. She had absolutely no idea how to react. “Try leaning forward,” he said once more, “and allow her to do everything. She knows what to do, so you don’t have to worry.”
Eloise allowed the mare to do as such, and it slowly started trotting forward. A burst of sobbing laughter escaped her as more memories surfaced with no warnings, memories of Uncle reciting stories of her mama and what an experienced rider she was. And right at this moment, Eloise felt as such too.
