He winced as he said this, as if it were something difficult for him.
“I thought you didn’t like to ride outside the keep,” she responded. “One of the grooms said…”
“Never mind what the grooms said. Come here.”
She trotted toward him, eyeing him warily.
What’s his game? Last night, he told me that there could be no more mistakes. That he could never be a proper husband to me. He all but told me that he didn’t want to be.
So why is he doing this?
She wasn’t entirely sure that now was the right time for that question. So, she stood still, watching him unlatch the stall door.
Once the door was open, a horse came tentatively trotting out. It was a mare, dappled in a rich sandy color, with long and graceful legs and a thick, glossy white mane.
“This,” Callum explained, smoothing a palm down the horse’s neck, “is Faun. She’s nae a young mare or a particularly fast one, but she’s sturdy, sensible, and careful. She can be trusted to bear children safely, and I reckon that means she can be trusted to bearye.”
Melody flinched. “Me? Callum, I do not ride. I… I can’t ride without a sidesaddle.”
“Nonsense,” he responded briskly. “Ye daenae care to ride because sidesaddle obliges ye to ignore all yer instincts. It’s precarious, and a wee bit silly. An ordinary saddle connects yer instincts to the horse’s. It makes iteasy. I will be with ye, and Faun here is nae goin’ to run away with ye.”
Melody stood in horrified silence as he saddled up the mare. Sure enough, she stood mildly and calmly as she was preparedfor her ride. She kept watching Melody, her eyes soft, dark, and intent. There was an intelligence there that Melody had not quite been prepared for.
When both horses, Faun and Thunder, were saddled up, Callum led both outside, jerking his head to indicate that Melody should follow.
She briefly considered running for the keep and locking herself in the room. He would probably not beat down the door and carry her away.
I am not a coward. He thinks that I am, that I am a weak and respectable English lady. I shall prove otherwise.
Thus fortified, Melody stepped forward when Callum told her to. She stood up on the mounting block without a word of protest and placed one hand in the middle of the saddle.
“She’ll nae move,” Callum assured her. His warm palm appeared at the small of her back, making her shiver. “And I’ll nae let ye fall.”
I am not a coward.
Letting out a long, ragged breath, Melody moved forward, lifting her leg just the way Callum had told her. Itwaseasier than climbing into a sidesaddle. Not literally easier, as she had to lift and swing herself into the saddle, but once she had her knees on either side of the horse’s back, she feltfixedin a way she neverhad on a sidesaddle. He was right—slipping off would not be easy.
“There!” Callum exclaimed. “Ye did it, and first time, too! Ah, lass, ye are born to be in the saddle.”
She glanced down at him, and heat spread across her face. Callum was smiling, beaming openly, staring up at her in approval.
She hastily glanced away.
Best not to lose sight of what all of this is… a mistake.
“Thank you,” she responded hoarsely, hoping that she sounded sufficiently cool and disinterested. “What next?”
23
There was a rhythm to horse riding, it seemed.
Step, shift, lean. Step, shift, lean,Melody chorused, over and over in her head.
It was pure panic that kept her still in the saddle, all the way across the courtyard and past the guards. She sat very still and straight, back rigid, gripping the reins in white-knuckled hands.
“Ease up, lass, ye look as though ye have been turned to stone,” Callum observed. “Ye are doin’ very well.”
“Am I?”
