The patter of small feet echoed down the hallway, growing louder, until a tiny sprite named Daisy burst into the office. “Miss Kent! He brung a horse!”
She furrowed her brow. “I beg your pardon?”
“The gent. He brung a horse, the cleanest one you’ve ever seen. It’s all white.”
Her heart slammed hard against her ribs. “A horse?” she repeated as though she didn’t even know what one was.
Daisy bobbed her head with such force that her blond braids slapped against her shoulders. “We can ride it in the garden!”
Shoving back her chair, she was surprised when her knees nearly buckled as she stood. It could not be the horse she was thinking of. It could not be the man. But when she arrived at the window, she discovered it was both. Sophie and Finn. Beautiful Sophie and handsome Finn. His attire was casual, his hat the flat-cap she remembered from her youth, his jacket a plain brown but the lines of it shaped to his broad shoulders.
He was leading the mare around with three children—a girl and two boys—sitting on her back, their smiles so bright it caused her heart to ache. What a simple thing to do to bring such joy.
She didn’t particularly like the shot of pleasure that swept through her with the knowledge he’d returned. She’d expected to never see him again, had thought she’d made her position on the matter clear, but perhaps he’d detected the lie in her voice. Because the truth was that for the first time in years, sitting in the kitchen last night, she’d known a spark of happiness. He hadn’t abandoned her. The wounded girl she’d been had wept with the knowledge, while the woman she now was recognized they’d both changed too much to return to what they’d been.
Tiny fingers curled around hers. “Come on, Miss Kent. He’ll let you ride it, too.”
No, no, she couldn’t go out there, couldn’t give him the freedom to begin melting her heart all over again. Couldn’t risk causing him even more pain.
Another tug. “Miss Kent?”
She smiled down at the precious child. “You go on. I need a minute.”
A minute to erect a shield around her heart.
He didn’t know what had prodded him to come. No, it had been more than a prod. It had been an obsession, gnawing at his gut, threading through his soul—the thought he could finally see her as he’d always dreamed of viewing her: in the daytime, bathed in sunlight. As he’d planned to see her on the day following the night when they were to have run away.
This morning when he’d awoken after a restless night and watched the fog curling in on itself and growing smaller, fainter, as the sun worked its magic, he’d known it was going to be a glorious day, one for walks in the parks and boat rides along the Thames. A rare day when autumn was determined to burst forth in brightness before giving way to the gloomier days of winter. There was a crispness to the air that made it easier to breathe—
Until she strolled into the garden.
It was as though the moon had descended and woven itself through her hair, taking shelter there until the night when it would again return to the sky. Her skin was alabaster, but not pale. It had a healthy glow to it. Her cheeks were flushed. As she neared he saw the delight shining in the green of her eyes, a shade that wasn’t as dark as he’d always assumed. The sun’s brightness shrunk the pupils, leaving an abundance of green to hold him captive. A black line circled the outer edge of the iris. He’d not noticed it before, not even when she’d been tucked beneath him, her eyes wide with wonder as they’d moved in tandem creating sparks, the memory of which even now put him in danger of growing hard.
The children were bouncing around him, eager to grab his attention, wanting to have their turn on the mare. But he seemed incapable of tearing his gaze fromher.
She stopped several inches away, close enough that he could see the fraying edges of her collar and cuffs. He didn’t want to think of her scrounging through someone else’s discards, seeking something serviceable that would keep her warm when the cold winds of winter arrived.
Her gaze locked with his, the way it had when he’d first eased her onto her back and covered her body with his, when he had cupped her delicate face between his large roughened hands and told her that he loved her. Would always love her.
“You still have her,” she said quietly, reverently, as though he’d been the deliverer of some miracle.
Knowing how much his actions pleased her seemed to rob him of words.
“Once I went to your brother’s brickyard to see her, but she was no longer there.” And he could well imagine she felt he’d taken the mare from her as well, stolen something else from her.
“May I?” She pointed toward the horse.
Something was lodged in his throat, making it difficult to swallow, to speak, so he merely gave a brisk nod, then watched as she walked around him, grabbed the halter, and rubbed her other hand along the horse’s forehead beneath her forelock. “Hello, sweet girl. Oh, I have missed you.”
And he couldn’t help but hope she’d missed him a bit as well. “Did you want to ride her?”
She glanced around at the children. “I don’t want to spoil their fun. I wouldn’t mind walking along beside her though.”
He placed three different children on Sophie’s back and slowly began leading her around the edge of the garden, Vivi falling into step on the other side of the horse so the mare’s head provided a barrier between them and he couldn’t see her clearly. No doubt she’d taken up her position in her effort to keep distance between them.
“Miss Kent! Miss Kent!” an imp of a girl cried out, running up to her. “I want to pet him.”
Without hesitating, she lifted the girl into her arms. “It’s a her.”
