The scent of hay and leather drifted outward. Nathaniel slowed as he approached the open doors. Margaret stood a few paces inside, one gloved hand resting lightly against the wooden partition of a stall. A large bay horse shifted behind the gate, its ears flicking toward her voice as she spoke quietly with one of the grooms.
Nathaniel paused for a moment before announcing himself. She turned slightly as he stepped into the lantern light. The groom bowed quickly and withdrew to the far end of the stable. Nathaniel approached slowly.
“I was told I might find you here.”
“I wished to see them.”
He followed her gaze toward the horse.
“You keep fine animals,” she said.
“I am particular about them.”
Margaret gave a small, thoughtful nod. The horse snorted softly, stamping one hoof against the straw. Margaret’s shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly.
Nathaniel noticed.
“You stand rather far from him,” he observed.
“I believe that is wise.”
“Do you dislike horses?”
“I would not say that.”
She allowed a faint smile.
“They are temperamental, that is all.”
Nathaniel rested his arms lightly on the stall gate. The horse nudged toward him immediately, recognizing him.
“He is well trained.”
“I do not doubt it.”
Margaret remained where she was, though her eyes followed the horse’s movements carefully.
“Even so,” she continued, “I prefer not to test their patience.”
“They can sense hesitation.”
“Precisely.”
The horse flicked its ears again and shifted closer to Nathaniel’s hand. Margaret watched the interaction with interest and a hint of unease.
“They are large,” she said after a moment. “Strong, and unpredictable too.”
Nathaniel stroked the horse’s neck absently.
“That is part of their nature.”
“Yes. That is precisely my point. I grew up near a farm, and I know because of that that some horses do not concern themselves with elegance.”
Nathaniel’s mouth curved faintly.
“They can be persuaded.”
“So can people,” she replied.
