I’ve done nothing for you, he thought, but he said, “I regret that you came all this way. I know you do, as well.”
And now his pounding heart stopped and he held his breath. He was waiting for her to say,I don’t regret it.
She did not say it. And he would notunsay it. Andso it was a reality. Silence stretched over the stable again.
“Is there anything I can do to help get underway?” she asked.
“No.”
“I saw the breakfast you laid and helped myself,” she offered. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“That is why it was there.” He led the mare to the hitching post.
“That’s a fine-looking horse.” She followed him into the sunlit paddock.
“Fleur, she’s called. You were riding through the forest when Meade set upon you, so I assume you’re proficient on horseback.”
“Oh I’m proficient,” she said on an exhale. She tightened her gloves. “I’ve a multitude of problems, but riding a horse is not one of them.”
If nothing else, Ryan was behaving more like herself today. She was listening, she was waiting. No implorations to remain; no begging for passion. Also, a man was sending her packing. How familiar it was to be overlooked, or passed by, or whatever was happening here with the saddled horses and the handing off to a sister.
At least she had last night.
It was not Ryan’s nature to feel sorry for herself and she tried very hard to shake the feeling that she was beingunchosen. She would focus on her next plan of action instead. And on empathizing with Gabriel’s struggles, which were clearly significant to him—they would be significant to anyone. He was sending her away, but he was not a happy man with an easy life.Meanwhile, her life before Maurice had been rather charmed, the loss of her mother notwithstanding. Gabriel was clearly a stalwart, deep-feeling man, and one did not live in the forest unless the outside world was untenable. She should see his challenges and encourage him to endure. Seeing and encouraging were restorative gestures. The more she felt for others, the less sorry she felt for herself.
Gabriel stalked to the stables to bring out his own mounted stallion. Compared to his house, the interconnected maze of paddocks and pens was new and modern. The fence gleamed with a fresh coat of paint. The shingles were straight and flat. The sod was trimmed. There was a kitchen garden and rose bushes in large pots. The contrast surprised her; she’d seen the outside last night, but only by torchlight.
In the stalls and the paddock, horses grazed or stared languidly out, watching Gabriel. The dogs—the pair of them—had clearly been warned to keep their distance, because they sat in the open doorway of the stable, alertly observing her. There was a coop for chickens and pens that housed swine and goats. It was a bustling enterprise, as tidy and well maintained as the house. And to think, all of it buried so very deep in the forest.
“The facilities for your livestock are beautiful,” Ryan called to him.
“Samuel Rein’s family sustained themselves on a perfectly workable layout here for fifty years,” he said. “Samuel trained me in this paddock—or rather, a cruder version of it. I’ve made improvements over time. Space is limited in a small valley at the base of a large hill, but I’ve managed to make the most of it.”
“And you find that no one disturbs you here? No other forest dwellers, no travelers who have lost their way? Huntsmen? No one? You’re completely alone?”
“It is very remote.”
“Your preference,” she observed.
“My necessity.” He rounded the stallion at the hitching post, reached for his saddle horn, and put a boot into the stirrup.
“But we’re goingnow?” she asked.
“My grooms will arrive soon to start their day. I’d rather we be gone by then.”
“Oh, right. Of course.” Ryan took a step toward the saddled mare.
“Forgive me,” she said, “but can I trouble you for a hand up?”
Gabriel paused, halfway in his saddle.
“Or,” she tried, “I can lead the horse to a mounting block?”
Gabriel dropped his foot to the ground.
“Icanmount up without help,” she volunteered, “but it’s an ungraceful enterprise. And it will upset the balance of the saddle.” She shaded her eyes and looked at him.
“Sorry,” he said, speaking to the horse.
