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A look crossed over her features, her brow furrowing.
Matthew longed to hear her thoughts, to know what she was working through in her mind—just as he longed to help. But as each moment ticked by, he could see her emotions shift, clarity rushing through her gray eyes.
She swiped at another tear, moisture smearing across her cheekbone like shining glass. “It’s like, I just want to shut up and get on the dang horse, you know?”
He smiled, despite himself, her words so like her.
She looked up at him, her tears disappearing, her breathing steady, and brow setting. “So that’s what I’m gonna do,” she said, her words determined. “I’m gonna shut up and get on the dang horse.”
Matthew couldn’t help the pride swelling in his chest.
Before another moment could pass, he reached down, laced his fingers together, and lifted her into the saddle with ease.
And there she sat, tall and regal and ladylike.
In a word, she was perfect.
Winnie adjusted in the saddle, the seat comfortable, the stirrup irons steady at her feet, Prince firm in his footing. Her fears lingered, but only as a distant memory, replaced with her firm desire to ride.
“How does that feel?” Matthew asked from below, peering up at her with those caring eyes of his.
She took a moment before responding, closing her own eyes to immerse herself in the moment. The feel of the horse beneath her. The sound of Prince’s soft nickering as he relaxed at her touch.
With a smile, she opened her eyes and looked down at Matthew. “It feels…amazing.”
He grinned in response. In a matter of moments, he mounted Nightshade, then they were off.
The first few steps took Winnie’s breath away. It felt like a lifetime had passed by since she’d ridden, and yet, in that moment, it was as if no time had passed at all. For all she knew, she could have been that same eighteen-year-old girl, riding her heart out, moving fluidly with each step her horse took, at one with the animal, with nature. With herself.
Yet, she wasn’t the same now. She was older. Wiser. She’d learned what heartache and loss were. She’d given up everything for her dad and for her family. And now? Now…she finally, for the first time in years, felt like herself. No more Winnie Knox of the Knox family.
Just…Winnie.
And she loved it.
“You were clearly born to ride,” Matthew said beside her. “But how do you fare during a race?”
His eyes took on a challenge, and Winnie felt a burst of excitement.
Trotting, cantering, galloping. They all seemed like a distant dream. And yet, with a grin and a flash of recklessness she wasn’t accustomed to, she clicked Prince forward. The horse didn’t need much more encouragement, launching across the grass with fervor.
Winnie had been worried for the briefest of seconds that she might be thrown, that she wouldn’t be able to handle Prince’s obvious power. But then, how could she call herself a horsewoman without pursuing a little adventure?
If she was thrown, she was thrown. What was life without flying?
And so, she flew. She flew across the English countryside, the countryside that taught her to be. She flew atop Prince, his hooves pounding against the grass, digging it up as they raced for the horizon. She flew with young Winnie inside her heart, telling her to be brave, to be herself.
And she flew alongside Matthew, across the grounds of his family’s estate, feeling a freedom she hadn’t experienced—a joy she hadn’t experienced—in far, far too long.
A half-hour into their ride, rain began to fall, so Winnie and Matthew jumped down from their horses and led them nearby to the shelter of a large oak tree, the branches so thick, they could only hear the rain from above instead of feeling it.
With the horses grazing beside them, Winnie propped her hands on her hips, still breathing hard from the exhilaration of their ride.
“I forgot how it felt,” she said, staring across the green expanse, mist blurring the trees in the distance. “Riding, I mean.”
Matthew came to stand beside her. “There’s nothing like it.”
“There really isn’t. And now I’m just mad at myself for waiting so long to do it again.”
