The stallion was a magnificent beast, larger than many with a proud lift to his head. His coloring was striking, being so pale a grey as to be almost luminous, with black hooves, mane and tail. He was of the strain of dapples from Southpoint, which had always been vigorously healthy steeds, and much sought-after for their appearance. The stallion was trim and perfectly muscled, the very image of an ideal horse.
Nicholas himself was just as fine to Eliza’s view. He had rolled up his shirt sleeves and she saw the tanned power of his arms. His dark blond hair was tousled and he worked with purpose, brushing down the horse. She smiled as she watched him work, liking the economy and grace of his movements, that he was both gentle and firm with the horse. Indeed, the creature clearly trusted him. Nicholas took the horse’s foreleg between his own as she watched, bending over to clean and polish the hoof, as a farrier might. In so doing, he unwittingly granted her a glimpse of his bare chest down the front of his chemise.
Eliza caught her breath and Nicholas looked up at the sound, his gaze darkening when it locked with her own. “My lady,” he murmured, releasing the horse’s foot to straighten, then bowed. He pushed a hand through his hair and she sensed that he was discomfited. “I did not think to see you here.”
“Would you prefer that I was not?”
“No,” he replied with gratifying speed. He looked toward the stable boys then back at her. “But I would not see any taint upon your name on my account.”
“And I could not have you depart for a duel without seeing you again.”
Nicholas said nothing then, simply watched her as if she was a vision that might suddenly vanish. Around them the horses made their quiet night sounds, shuffling in the straw, snorting, shaking their heads. Sterling gave an impatient stamp, attracting Nicholas’ attention again, and that man returned to brushing the steed’s sides.
“Are you afraid?” Eliza asked.
He smiled at the very notion. “Of Melbourne? I think not.”
“But you could die before the dawn.”
“And how is that different from every other moment of every other day?”
“I suppose it is not,” Eliza ceded, moving to the end of the stall. Nicholas evaded her gaze, working with purpose, even moving to the other side of the horse so that Sterling was between them.
“Tell me a secret, Captain Emerson,” Eliza invited, feeling bold.
He eyed her over the horse’s silver back. “A secret?” She nodded. “Whose secret?”
“One of yours, of course.”
“What if I have no secrets?” He turned his attention to his labor in this moment, as sure a sign that he would deflect her interest as there might be.
“Everyone has a secret.” She spoke with conviction and knew he noticed.
“Even you, Mrs. North?” He glanced up, his expression teasing.
“Oh yes.” Eliza smiled. “I have a very big secret, one I have never shared with anyone.”
Nicholas met her gaze openly, propping one hand on his hip. “I confess myself astonished. I thought you of all people were precisely who and what you seem to be.”
“Oh, I am, but nonetheless, I have a secret.”
She could see that he was intrigued.
“Yet you do not confess it.”
“It would hardly be a secret if I did as much.”
“Is it a wicked secret?”
“Some might say as much,” she ceded, to whet his appetite. “But I was enquiring after your secret.”
He bent to examine the hoof of the other foreleg, vanishing from her view. “Why would you imagine that I should have a secret?”
“Because I suspect everyone does.”
“And they should all surrender those secrets to you?”
Eliza shook her head. “Not everyone. I’m not interested in their secrets. I am, however, interested in yours.”
