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Waiting for Vangie to catch-up, she said, “Yesterday, Ben told me a mare is due to foal any day now.”
Having taken a wending dirt path through the woods, they emerged from the trees. The trail opened into a clearing a hundred feet from the rear side of the barn. Skirting around a pile of horse manure and used straw, Vangie and Ailsa paralleled the building. At the corner, they both stopped short, covering their mouths to stifle their giggles.
Ian and the stable master circled the paddock examining several horses, each haltered and held steady by a groom. A jet-black stallion followed the stable master like a trained puppy. Attempting to hail his attention, the horse tossed his head, wickered, and nudged the man’s bony backside every few steps.
Exasperated, the stable master pivoted to face the stallion. “Cease, ye blasted brute.”
The horse nickered in his ear then probed the groom’s coat pocket for a treat.
“Gerard, couldn’t you come up with a more suitable name for that fawning creature than Thor?” Ian goaded in a syrupy voice, grinning ear to ear. “Mayhap Muffy or Pookie? Does he do any parlor tricks? Beg? Roll-over?”
The other grooms snickered.
Other than raising his grizzled eyebrows, Gerard paid them no heed. Thor snorted and pushed his muzzle into the man’s calloused hand, eager for the apple he held. Patting the horse on the neck, Gerard turned his back on the others. “I have me a mare to check on. She’s nigh on ripe to foal.” Obviously affronted at being the object of everyone’s amusement, he stomped across the paddock to the stables, muttering under his breath all the while.
The ever-faithful stallion followed on the stable master’s heels. Thor bumped his large head into Gerard from behind every few steps, earning gap-toothed grins from the grooms and another hoot of mocking laughter from Ian, trailing a foot behind Gerard.
Nearly bent double, one hand over her mouth and the other clutching her stomach, Vangie tried to suppress her laughter.
Evidently, the stallion decided he didn’t appreciate being ignored. He blew a long, horsey breath on Gerard’s neck before extending his large tongue and licking the groom’s cheek. Howling with amusement, Ian slapped Gerard on the back.
Laughing so hard he could scarcely speak, Ian entered the stables. “God Almighty…The brute…even licks…like a dog.”
“Leave off with the lickin’, or ye’ll be gelded by nightfall, ye old poger,” Gerard groused, his voice barely audible through the wood.
Upon hearing the muffled threat, Vangie and Ailsa erupted into another round of hushed giggles
It seemed the men were bound for the exit on the other end. With the maid in tow, Vangie reversed her direction, and they headed back in the direction they’d come. Nearing the end of the elongated building, she caught sight of Ian leaving the barn. He must’ve been momentarily blinded by the brilliant morning sunshine, because a few feet beyond the exit, he stopped, shielding his eyes.
Obscured by the trees and the barn’s shadow, she carefully picked her way around the putrid pile once more. Glancing up, she pulled up short, and Ailsa plowed into her from behind.
The Dowager Viscountess Warrick stepped from the path the women had used minutes before.
