“No, like Harry and I used to do when we were boys and only had one horse between us.” There was a short silence. Gabe added, “Soldiers do it all the time, too—double up, when there’s only one horse.”
That was the clincher. The small boy drew himself up, gave Gabe a stiff bow and said solemnly, “I accept.” Another boy might have jumped for joy, or clapped his hands or even just grinned with pleasure. Mrs. Prynne’s child gave a correct, formal bow. Or was that Papa’s child?
“Excellent. Now, grab onto my hands, and when I count to three, you jump and I’ll do the rest. One, two, three!” He swung Nicky up in front of him. The child sat facing the front, his hands clutching Gabe’s forearms tightly.
“Ready?”
“Yes.”
Gabe nudged Trojan and his horse walked down the drive. The boy sat stiffly, holding on to Gabe’s forearms in a death grip. Like mother, like son, he reflected.
Poor little lad, to have been forced onto horses only to keep falling off. Gabe remembered Harry falling off a great deal, but it had been Harry’s choice to try and try again. Harry couldn’t stay away from horses.
As they came to the open downs Gabe said, “We’ll go a bit faster now, shall we?”
Nicky nodded. Gabe signaled Trojan to trot. Nicky held on tight, but soon caught the rhythm. “It’d be easier if you had a saddle that fits you,” Gabe told him.
“I have never used a saddle,” the boy said. “The only way to learn is bareback. That way one learns to master the horse. My father tried—” He broke off. “I’m not supposed to talk about Papa.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Gabe said easily. He was starting to form a picture of the boy’s father. “Shall we try a canter?”
“Yes,” Nicky said firmly.
“Let me know if you want me to slow down.”
Nicky said nothing. Trojan was a very smooth-gaited horse. They cantered until the sea came into sight, glittering in the brilliant morning sun. His horse’s pace didn’t alter, but he raised his head and snuffed the air eagerly. Trojan was itching for a gallop. So was Gabe.
“How about if we go a bit faster? You won’t fall off, I promise.”
The boy nodded, so Gabe allowed his horse to pick up speed. The boy made no objection so, after a moment, he gave Trojan his head. They thundered along, the horse’s mane streaming back, his hooves cutting up the turf beneath. The boy made not a sound. His small hands clung to Gabe’s forearms.
Soon they reached the narrow cliff path and Gabe reluctantly reined in his horse.
“How was that?” he asked the child. There was no response. Gabe leaned forward and turned the boy’s face so he could see it. His eyes were shut tight, his pale little face blank of all expression.
Gabe winced. Why the devil had the child not said something if he was so frightened? He felt like a bully. He opened his mouth to apologize.
Nicky’s eyes opened. He swallowed. “Again,” he whispered. “Do it again.”
It wasn’t fear in the boy’s eyes, Gabe suddenly realized. It was exhilaration.
“Again?”
Nicky nodded. “Yes, only faster!”
Gabe threw back his head and laughed. “You’ll do, young Nicky! You’ll do. But we can’t go off gallivanting just yet—I need to get you back before your mother misses you. And first we have to fetch that portmanteau.”
“And Mama’s slipper?”
“Possibly.” He added, “If I dismount and lead Trojan, can you sit up there by yourself?”
He looked uncertain, but nodded gamely. Gabe dismounted and left Nicky clutching the pommel. He led the horse along the narrow path, searching for signs of last night’s activities.
“Ah, this is where it happened,” he said at last. He lifted the boy down and tossed him the reins. “Tie Trojan to a bush, would you?” Nicky took the reins with an air of importance and led the big horse away.
Gabe peered over the edge of the cliff at the path leading up from the pebbly beach. A difficult climb for a woman and a child with a bad leg, especially in the dark, never mind the portmanteau. Why the devil had she landed here, of all places?
Nicky joined him and peered over. “It was very hard climbing up in the dark. We could not see and the path was very steep.” He added, “But it was not so muddy as it is now.”
