The last time he’d caused Olive to run away, he had slunk home in fear of his father. Eli was no longer afraid of the marquess, nor was he willing to let his second chance with Olive slip through his fingers.
He was going to have to chase after her.
Gritting his teeth, he vaulted the log fence and took a step toward Rudolph, the sweetest of the horses.
Duke also took a step toward Rudolph.
Ears flat against his head, Rudolph danced sideways out of Duke’s reach, and darted away.
Very well. Eli took a step toward Mr. Edward. He hadn’t appreciated galloping with the gelding during their last encounter, but with Rudolph no longer a possibility—
Duke retracted his lips and pawed his front leg aggressively toward Mr. Edward.
Eli had never seen a horse disappear so quickly.
Duke turned toward Eli.
Eli patted his pockets. No carrots. He’d come straight from the castle.
“Believe me,” he said. “I don’t like this any more than you do. But the longer I wait, the less likely I’ll be able to catch up to her. And if I don’t talk to her now, she’ll toss all of my future letters into the fire and never allow me over her threshold again.”
Duke did not appear particularly swayed by this speech. He had gone from eyeing Eli suspiciously to ignoring him completely, and now stood stock still, his gaze off to the horizon.
Eli inched closer.
Duke didn’t move.
Eli checked the saddle. Snug. He checked the stirrups. Low. In theory, a gifted horseman could launch himself into the stallion’s tall saddle with a single, smooth, one-bounce leap.
Also in theory, Duke would obliterate Eli if he tried.
There was nothing smooth about the panic rippling along Eli’s limb as he considered his options. He knew exactly what it felt like to crack his rib against a log fence just like this one. He knew exactly what it felt like to have the iron imprint of a horseshoe slam into his leg or his arm and hear the sickening crack of his bones breaking.
He knew exactly what it felt like to lose Olive because he hadn’t chased after her when he’d had the chance.
“Love is worth it,” he muttered.
He took a deep breath, grabbed the reins, and swung himself up and into Duke’s saddle.
Eli’s muscles froze in shock.
He’d accomplished it. He was in the saddle. And hadn’t yet been thrown.
In fact... Duke’s nose had lowered to the ground, as if sniffing for any stray carrot pieces that might have fallen from loose pockets during the mount.
Eli adjusted his seat and dug in his heels tentatively.
Duke chewed a mouthful ofphleum pratense.
Eli held the reins tighter and spurred his boots into the stallion decisively.
Duke took another bite of grass.
“To Olive,” Eli said desperately. “Please. Before Olive—”
His head jerked backward as Duke sprang forward, leaping the tall fence easily and nearly unseating his rider in the process.
Eli hung on tight as the stallion thundered down the worn path, leaving the stables to disappear in a cloud of dirt behind them.
