“Ye need a hand, wife?” he called, half-teasing.
She set her jaw and gathered her skirts with defiance. “I can manage, just fine, thank you.”
The mare snorted, unimpressed with the woman’s show of independence. Elsie muttered something under her breath, likely not suitable for polite English company, Halvard thought, and mounted sidesaddle with remarkable grace. The movement drew a few murmurs of surprise from the watching stablehands.
“Only sidesaddle?” Harcourt called approaching from across the courtyard. “How very… proper, my lady. My Margaret has long ridden astride. A most practical skill for the Highlands as we guessed she’d be a Highland bride.”
Margaret sitting tall and composed on her dappled grey, gave a smug little smile. Halvard’s stomach clenched, as it was the first sign of emotion from the lass, and he could tell underneath her meek appearance she was as cruel and vicious as her father.
In contrast, at the Earl’s comments, Halvard noticed a spark light in Elsie’s eyes, a dangerous flash of pride he had seen before and that seemed to always precede trouble.
“I assure you, my lord,” she said sweetly. “I can ride however the terrain demands. But as I am alady, I choose grace over… well, the appearance of practicality.” She gave Lady Margaret a curt nod.
“Grace is easily lost when one falls,” Harcourt responded.
Elsie tilted her chin. “Then I suppose I shan’t fall.”
Halvard bit back a groan.
God’s above, she’s gonna pick a fight before we’ve left th’ bloody keep.
“Enough,” he warned under his breath, so only she could hear, but Elsie only gave an innocent smile.
Harcourt gave a deliberate laugh. “Perhaps a test, then. Only for amusement of course. My Margaret could use the exercise before our long journey. A short race, Lady MacLeod?”
Elsie’s gaze sharpened as she sized up her potential opponent. “Gladly.”
“Christ’s blood,mo bhean,” Halvard muttered, but she was already urging her horse forward, her eyes flashing like sunlight on steel.
The ladies lined up at the edge of the field below the castle. The sea stretched beyond, vast and gleaming. Harcourt smirked like a man certain of his daughter’s victory. Lady Margaret in turn looked confident and serene. Elsie by contrast looked to Halvard like a storm about to break.
“Only to the stream and back,” Harcourt advised. “We wouldn’t want an accident.”
Halvard leaned close to Elsie’s ear. “Ye dinnae have tae prove anything, lass.”
Her lips curved. “You think I’ll lose?”
He met her gaze head on. “I think ye’ll crack yer neck,mo bràmair.”
Her eyes went wide for a moment at the term of endearment, but she quickly recovered and gave him a wink. “Then you’d have to find another wife.”
Before he could respond, she kicked her mare into motion. Halvard said a small prayer.
The horses thundered across the grass, hooves tearing at the earth. Elsie’s skirts billowed and her hair flew loose from her carefully crafted pins in the wind. She rode like she’d been born in the saddle, fearless, balanced, alive.
Halvard could not help himself, a fierce pride surged in his chest. It only increased as Harcourt’s laughter faded. The Earl was silent as Elsie and Margaret rounded the stream almost neck and neck but, on the return, Elsie leaned low over her horse, urging it faster and faster still.
When she crossed the line first, her triumphant grin could’ve lit the sky as Margaret’s composure cracked just enough to show her fury. Harcourt by contrast seemed unable to hide his, as Halvard noticed the whites of the other man’s knuckles on his reins.
“Well done, Lady MacLeod,” Harcourt said tightly. “A rare talent, for a woman.”
Elsie smiled, breathless. “Perhaps next time, my lord, you’ll allow your daughter to bring a faster horse.”
Halvard shook his head, both exasperated and impressed. “Ye’ve got a reckless streak wider than Lock Slapin,” he said as she rode back toward him.
‘And yet, I’m still alive,” she said as she carefully adjusted the loose locks of her hair back in place.
“Barely,” he muttered, but he could not keep the warmth out of his tone.
