“I understand that feeling more than you might expect,” Constantine said at last, his voice quieter than usual. “Augustus used to tell me I was too involved in his affairs. He said it so often that it became something of a jest between us.” The line of his jaw shifted slightly. “I never thought it was funny, though. When you are the eldest, the responsibility of them never truly leaves you, no matter how loudly they insist that they do not need you.”
“I think I am beginning to understand this feeling more now that I take care of William. It is distressing to think that this little boy you raised will one day decide to leave and start a life of his own,” said Elara.
Only you will not be there by my side to see him grow into a man.
The second horn blared through the air, announcing that the horses and their riders were in place and ready. After one more lingering look at one another, Elara and Constantine turned their focus toward the race as the third and final horn blew.
Cheers erupted from all around them as the riders took off.
“Come on, Houndstooth, come on!” Elara urged, getting up from her seat as she clenched her hands into fists.
Her excitement was contagious, and Constantine, as well, rose from his seat as the horses made their way around the second bend.
“What number is he?” Constantine asked, watching as three horses broke from the pack.
“Twenty-three,” Elara hastily replied, her eyes focused on the race.
Constantine looked for the number, and he felt a shot of adrenaline move through him as he saw that Houndstooth was in the top three. He could not believe it. Elara had not only been looking for Augustus, but had also bested him at betting on the horses as well.
“Come on, twenty-three,” Constantine found himself chanting as the horse broke from the third spot to the second as they rounded the third and final bend.
“Come on,” they said in unison as Houndstooth drew neck and neck with number eleven.
“Yes! Yes! Go, boy, go!” Elara shouted excitedly as Houndstooth broke into the lead.
Despite the riveting race, Constantine found his eyes drawn to Elara as the horses closed in on the last few yeards, and he watched, spellbound, as Elara let out a shout of glee and bounced on the balls of her feet. Her cheeks were flushed from excitement, her plump lips pulled back into the most beautiful grin he had ever seen, and those eyes—those ice blue eyes of hers were full of so much mirth that they actually glowed.
“He won!” Elara crowed, turning her blazing beauty toward Constantine. “He won, he actually won!”
Well, I’ll be damned.
The sound of her giggle was like a bolt of lightning to his heart, which struck him twice in a row as she suddenly jumped towardhim. Without a thought, he caught her mid-leap and brought her to his chest, letting her wrap her arms tight around his neck as she continued giggling.
Contentment washed over him as he held her close, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other tangled in her silky tendrils. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling her feminine scent and holding it in his lungs. He was not sure how long they remained like that. Probably only seconds, but time seemed to stand still as he sank into the feeling of being whole.
Then, as if only realizing what she had just done, she gasped and let go of his neck. Longing poured through him as he slowly lowered her to her feet and unwound his arms. Elara’s blush was deep and beautiful as she stepped back and pressed her hand to her cheek.
“Forgive me,” she murmured, casting her eyes to the ground. “I do not know what came over me.”
Constantine cleared his throat and straightened his clothing.
“Worry not. The excitement of winning can overcome anyone,” he assured her.
“I... See? I told you I would win!” The smile she gave him was small and appreciative, but she still did not look up at him.
“Come,” he said, offering her his hand. “Let us find Mr. Preacher. Now that the race is over, we can collect your winnings and perhaps question him further.”
Elara nodded and took his hand, and as they made their way through the excited crowd, Constantine focused on that now-familiar static feeling in his palm—the very spot where his hand connected with hers.
Chapter 16
“Congratulations on your winnings, Your Grace,” Mr. Preacher stated, handing a stack of bills to Constantine.
Unlike his cheery nature from before, Mr. Preacher now seemed quite displeased over making their acquaintance. Though he was not sure why, Constantine was certain it was not just because Elara’s first-ever gamble was a success.
“Thank you, Mr. Preacher,” Constantine replied, pocketing the money.
Mr. Preacher gave a single nod and then turned to leave. Most of the crowd had already filtered out of the stands and taken respite under the white tents, leaving Constantine, Elara, and Mr. Preacher with a bit of privacy.
