Page 31 of A Game of Hearts

Emma forced herself to focus on the groom rather than on Lord Limnwood’s approaching figure.

“Yes, miss. Lady Anne’s mare came up lame this morning - nothing serious, mind, just a stone bruise - so she’ll be riding Bella instead. Which means you’ll need to take Shadow, as he’s the only other mount suitable for a lady.”

Emma’s breath caught. Shadow was a beautiful black gelding, but rather more spirited than the sort of horses that she usually rode. She had admired him from afar but never...

“Is there a problem?”

Lord Limnwood’s voice was carefully neutral.

“Not at all,” Emma said quickly - too quickly, perhaps.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“Shadow can be challenging, from what I’ve seen. Perhaps...”

“I am perfectly capable of managing him.”

Emma lifted her chin, ignoring the flutter of nerves in her stomach. She would not show weakness, not with Lady Anne watching from her perfectly docile mount.

“As you wish.” But something in his tone suggested that he was not entirely convinced. “Though perhaps you would permit me to ride nearby? Simply to maintain proper supervision of the party.”

Her heart leapt at this transparent excuse to stay close to her.

“If you feel it necessary, my Lord.”

A groom brought forward the mounting block, but Emma hesitated, noting its slightly unstable placement on the cobbles. Lord Limnwood noticed her concern.

“Allow me to assist, Miss Everton?” He moved forward, positioning himself beside Shadow’s shoulder. “The yard is quite uneven here.”

Emma’s heart quickened as he cupped his hands to create a step. She felt his strength as she placed her foot in his hands and he easily boosted her up smoothly as she pushed against his support, allowing her to settle perfectly into the sidesaddle. The fluid grace of the movement surprised her - clearly, he had assisted ladies with mounting before, though something in his expression as their eyes met suggested that this time felt different.

“Thank you, my Lord.” She was proud of how steady she kept her voice, despite the lingering warmth she felt from his assistance.

He swung onto his own mount - a magnificent grey stallion - with easy grace. Emma found herself admiring the smooth movement, the way he sat his horse, and the strength evident in his shoulders, before she caught herself and looked away.

“Shall we?” The Duke’s voice broke into her inappropriate daydream. “I thought that we might ride to the old abbey ruins - the view of the sunrise from there is quite spectacular.”

They set out in loose formation, Lord James and Lady Beatrice in the lead with the Duke, other couples falling in behind. Emma found herself near the rear with Lord Limnwood, which she suspected was not entirely accidental on his part.

Shadow proved to be everything she’d heard - responsive but spirited, requiring constant attention. She focused on maintaining perfect form, very aware of Lord Limnwood watching her.

“You ride well,” he said quietly as they followed a path through the woods. “Though I confess, I find myself concerned about Shadow’s temperament.”

“Because you think me incapable of managing challenging situations?”

The words emerged in a sharper tone than she had intended.

Something flickered in his expression - concern, perhaps, or something warmer.

“On the contrary. I begin to think you quite capable of managing any situation. Which makes me wonder why you feel the need to prove it.”

She looked at him then, startled by the understanding in his tone. The morning light caught those golden glints in his dark hair, and for a moment she forgot to breathe.

“Perhaps,” she said softly, “because some people’s good opinion seems worth earning.”

Their eyes met, and Emma felt the world narrow to just this moment, this understanding passing between them. His expression softened in a way that she had never seen before.

Before he could respond, a pheasant burst from the undergrowth directly under Shadow’s nose. The horse shied violently, nearly unseating Emma. She kept her seat through pure instinct, but Shadow had already taken the bit between his teeth, charging off the path into the woods.