“Perhaps, but I’m speaking the truth nonetheless.” He gestured for one of the stableboys to come over.
After a quick chat and a few coins, the boy vanished into the stable, coming out again on a pony with a harness but no saddle, bringing to mind Rupert’s own childhood capers.
The three of them set out. Again, he thought her brave, knowing it must be hard to learn such a thing at her age when adult fears imagined the worst possible consequences.
“Besides, Lady Delia, do you really think Blossom is going to start tripping and falling simply because she has your slight weight upon her back?”
“I suppose not.”
After a few minutes, during which they’d gone from a walk to a trot, he couldn’t help praising her again.
“You are naturally good at this.”
“Impossible!” Yet a small smile touched her lips. “My teeth are rattling.”
“Then we must canter. Blossom will do as my horse does if you urge her to it.”
Lady Delia did as he said. Together, as Rupert had envisioned, they cantered over the field. What’s more, he would swear she was enjoying herself. Slowing again to a walk, then once more trotting and cantering, she seemed comfortable directing Blossom to do all three.
“It’s like dancing,” she said.
“How do you mean?”
“I can see it with your horse, but I can feel it with Blossom. When we walk, there are four beats.Bom, bom, bom, bom, over and over. When we trot, it is simplybom, bom,very quickly. I jolt up and down.”
“Lift off your saddle on one of those beats,” he advised. “Or on both if you’re able. It’s called posting. You’ll feel the difference in how you maintain your balance. The trot is an important gait, symmetrical and balanced, at least to watch. I always have a horse trot before I buy because I can easily see any lameness more than with any other step. Even if I see the horse’s head bobbing too much, I can detect lameness.”
“Still, it makes me think of the dancing master’s lessons,” she said. ”The canter is the waltz.Bom, bom, bom. Repeat.Bom, bom, bom.”
“You are a clever lady. Sometimes, as with dancers, the horse gets it wrong. Then it’s called a cross-canter. You may occasionally catch a horse switch its lead leg, and it looks ugly. Enough prattle,” he said. “Are you ready to gallop?”
Her brown eyes opening wide, she nodded. Their young chaperone, who in truth was entirely inappropriate, already raced ahead.
“Get Blossom cantering. Then urge her faster still. You’ll feel it when she changes her stride. There are times when you shall be like a bird.”
“I am not sure I wish to be a bird,” Lady Delia said nervously.
Regardless, Rupert thought her a good sport to try. As soon as Blossom went from canter to gallop, however, Lady Delia shrieked and pulled back on the reins.
“The ground is rushing by,” she declared.
“You only galloped for a few seconds,” he said gently. “Try again. Let’s get to the river.”
After galloping a little longer, fear overtook her once more. On the third try, however, Lady Delia galloped to the River Avon.
“Congratulations!” He was exceedingly proud of her.
“And I am enjoying it,” she said, with disbelief. “I believe Blossom likes me.”
Rupert hid his smile. Blossom didn’t know Lady Delia from any other rider, but it was a good sign she was bonding with her horse.
Dismounting, he helped her from the saddle, relishing the feel of her soft, shapely curves sliding down the front of him.
When she looked up with trusting eyes, however, he calmed his passions. After all, the riding lessons weren’t a ruse. He hadn’t enticed the lady out there to take advantage of her. At least, not unless he was certain she wanted him to.
He showed her how to hobble a horse with the reins, even though the stableboy was there to look after both their mounts. The lad was more interested in throwing stones and sticks into the snaking river.
“Shall we take a walk?” Rupert asked. They managed to get a fair distance from their useless chaperone.
