There. He’d done it. His leg would eventually stop shaking.
Olive cast a critical eye in his direction. She shook her head, leapt down from Duke, and made a circular motion with her hand. “Not quite right. Do it again.”
“Do itagain?” Eli stared at her in horror. Mounting the horse once had been disturbing enough. Doing it twice would be madness.
“I’ll show you how to be smoother,” she explained. “You won’t startle the horse, which leads to a better experience for both horse and rider.”
“This is a terrible experience,” he informed her. “I’ve had more fun nicking my throat with a straight razor or falling down stairs whilst reading a botany text.”
“It’ll be fine,” she promised. “Trust me.”
He trustedher.
He didn’t trust the horse.
With ample misgivings, he eased down from Mr. Edward and edged to one side.
“We’ll work on dismounts, too,” Olive said, which made Eli regret everything.
It took half an hour for her to pronounce him reasonably capable of mounting and dismounting. Half an hour in which absolutely anything could have gone horribly wrong, but miraculously did not.
Olive had complete control over her beasts and, with endless patience, managed to impart some of that hands-on knowledge to an amateur botanist who actively resisted “having faith” and the recurring lie of “just one more time.”
By the time they finally set out on their ride, Eli was so grateful to no longer be mounting and dismounting that it was almost a relief to be carried passively on the back of his horse.
“We’re almost there,” Olive called over her shoulder.
He blinked. “We’re going somewhere specific?”
“Just ahead.” She pointed. “I’ll race you!”
Duke shot off as though launched from a cannon.
“Don’t even think about it,” Eli whispered to Mr. Edward.
Mr. Edward slowed to a stop to chew a hunk ofhedera helix.
Olive and Duke disappeared into the woods.
“Damn it,” Eli muttered. “We’re going to have to move fast if we want to catch them.”
He knew how. He just didn’t like it.
Eli tightened his grip on the reins, raised his hands over Mr. Edward’s head, and pushed with his legs. In moments, he took Mr. Edward from trot to canter to gallop.
None of which was faster than the racing of Eli’s heart.
When he rounded the track into the woods, Olive stood in front of a small pavilion with latticed walls. Duke was off to one side, munching on foliage.
Olive looked at Eli in astonishment. “That was fast.”
“Just because I don’t, doesn’t mean I can’t.” He slid down from Mr. Edward on legs made of pudding. “Don’t ask me to do it again.”
“We’ll walk back as slow as you please,” she promised. “You can lead.”
“Well?” he demanded. “Where’s my kiss?”
She grinned and wrapped her arms about his neck. “Come and take it.”
