Page 42 of A Most Unwelcome Acquaintance

Elizabeth stepped toward the center of the lane and lifted one hand.

“Mr. Darcy, you had better wait.”

He had no need of the warning, for he had shortened the reins and brought the horse almost to a halt. One ewe broke from the others and darted across the lane, causing the horse to shy toward the ditch. Sarah held her place.

Darcy turned it away, but there was no room for the animal to recover its footing. Its hindquarters struck the bank, and one forehoof slid at the soft edge of the lane. The horse lunged, tossing its head.

“Sarah, away!”

The dog backed toward the open gate. The flock scattered from her, and the horse gave a second sharp bound.

Darcy was out of the saddle before Elizabeth understood his intention. He landed near the horse’s shoulder, kept hold of the reins, and moved with it rather than pulling against it, his voice low. Elizabeth could not distinguish the words, though the tone carried no alarm.

The horse trembled, its nostrils wide and foam marking the bit. Darcy laid one hand against its neck and turned its head from the sheep. “Take the dog into the field.”

The command might have offended her in another circumstance. Now it was sensible. “Sarah, in.”

Sarah slipped through the gate and lay down inside the field while Elizabeth followed far enough to draw her away from the opening. The sheep watched Darcy lead the horse forward two steps and stop while it tested the ground.

“Can you close the gate?” he asked.

“Not until the sheep are back.”

His eyes moved from the scattered flock to the broken latch. “Then we must put them back.”

We.

Elizabeth expected him to wait until the lane cleared, perhaps with impatience concealed beneath good manners; she did not expect him to involve himself.

“The horse may not agree.”

“He will stand if he cannot see them.”

Darcy led the animal around the bend and tied the reins to a low branch on the bank. The horse shifted but did not pull. Darcy returned, removed his gloves, and looked at Sarah.

“Will she take instruction from me?”

“No.”

His glance came to Elizabeth.

“She takes instruction only from those she knows.”

“I remember.” He moved to the upper side of the lane, cutting off the two sheep that had wandered toward the bend.

Elizabeth almost smiled, as he sounded as though he were awaiting orders in a matter of consequence. “Stand where you are. Do not move unless one tries to pass you.”

Darcy took his position, and Elizabeth sent Sarah wide around the sheep nearest the ditch. The dog kept enough distance to avoid driving them into the water as the three drew together and moved toward the gate. One veered when it noticed Darcy, but he stepped forward and blocked the lane without waving his arms or attempting to seize it.

The ewe turned back.

“You have done this before,” Elizabeth said.

“Not with sheep.”

“With tenants?”

“No, my sister.”