“That would ruin the surprise, I feel,” he called back to her.
“A surprise?” she asked, shifting more and more now where she stood. She had changed into a riding dress, ready for the day, midnight blue with long sleeves. Despite the heat of the day, she welcomed it, for it still masked the extent of the bruises along her arms.
“Now, close your eyes,” Hayward called to her from inside the stable.
“Must I?” she asked, trying her best to see inside the stable, but it was no use. One side was blocked because of stacked hay bales, and the other stable doors were closed.
“Allow me my fun, close your eyes,” Hayward bid her again.
“Very well, they’re closed,” she declared, firmly closing her eyes.
“Promise not to peek?”
“I cannot make that promise,” she said, earning his laughter which was sounding closer and closer. His footsteps came nearer toward her, as did hooves clomping on the cobbled courtyard outside the stable.
“Now,” Hayward’s voice was so close that she jumped. He was practically whispering in her ear. It sent a thrill up her spine, a thrill she had never felt before. “Outstretch your hand.”
She did as he instructed, stretching out her hand, then she felt someone take her wrist.
“This way,” he said and moved her hand a little. The touch of his hand on hers reminded her of the dance they had shared the night before. It abruptly sent more thrills through her body, up from where his hand had touched her, along her arm and into her chest. “There we are.” He released her hand, and she tried her best not to sigh from disappointment.
Into her hand, she felt a horse prod its nose. Gently, she stroked the animal up and down its nose, earning soft snorts in response.
“Open your eyes,” Hayward whispered in her ear, so close that she could feel her neck tingle. She did as he asked and opened her eyes, when the sight that greeted her made her jaw drop.
Before her was a grey horse, one of the tallest she had ever seen, mottled white with long grey hair and bold black eyes. The horse almost didn’t look real, but something that belonged in a fantasy world or in an unearthly dream.
“I have never seen a horse like this before,” she said, stepping closer toward the steed. The horse was clearly delighted by her petting and pushed his nose even further into her hand. “What is it?”
“I thought you might like it,” Hayward said, moving to stand the other side of the steed’s head and pat him on his neck. “This is an Andalusian.”
“I have heard of them, but I have never seen one before,” she murmured in awe of the horse. “It’s spectacular.”
“I brought him back from my travels. You’d be hard pressed to find a more loyal horse than Cantante here.”
“Cantante? What a beautiful name,” Phoebe marveled as she walked down the side of the horse, noting the reins and the saddle were in place. As she reached the horse’s side, Hayward walked round the steed the other way and offered his hand to her, as though to help her into the saddle. “Wait…I could not ride this horse.”
“Why not?” he asked, frowning a little.
“It’s an Andalusian!” she gestured toward the horse, as though it would explain everything.
“As I said, I wish you to enjoy your day,” he said and waved his hand in the air for her to take again. “What could be more fun than riding an Andalusian?” He merely waved his hand once more when still she stood back nervously. “Well, my hand will grow tired if we continue like this for much longer,” he jested, pulling another smile from her.
She finally took his hand, this time basking in the warmth of it for a touch longer as he helped her up into the saddle. She sat side saddle, with her right leg looped around the pommel at the front.
“It’s very tall indeed,” she said, gasping as she looked down at the ground below. She feared she might be a little rusty. There were days as a child where riding was her only freedom, where she would escape her father’s house and ride for miles, jumping fallen trees and fences, but that was some time ago.
“Well, I promise if you fall that I shall pick you up,” he said with a smile as a second horse was pulled out of the stable. Phoebe tried to hide the blush his words caused across her cheeks. Hayward pulled himself up into the saddle of a brown steed beside her, whose hair had been braided tightly. “Ready?” he asked, gesturing for her to lead the way.
The excitement coiled in her stomach as she pulled on the reins and urged the Andalusian to gallop.
* * *
Francis had never seen a rider quite like Lady Ridlington. Of course, he’d seen the impressive acrobats in Spain, but this was different. Lady Ridlington may have been nervous at first of the tall Andalusian, but after a while, she relaxed and was extremely impressive to watch. She could urge the horse to a greater speed than he ever could, and Cantante only appeared to love her more for it. She was also a fine jumper, able to take fallen tree logs with ease around the woods in the estate.
“You will have to slow down, or I will never catch up!” he called to her as he chased her through the woods.
She dutifully did as he asked, pulling on the horse’s reins and coming to a stop in a small clearing in the estate. From this part of the grounds, they had a grand view back down the hill to the front of the house, and the townhouses beyond on the edge of London.
