Already His (The Caversham Chronicles - Book Two) (29 page)

Taking the reins, Elise led the mare to the center of the paddock where the horse wouldn’t get the feeling of being cornered, which could be scary to a young animal. After working with the mare a few minutes on some of what Elise thought to be the basics, she lifted the reins over the horse’s head. Then grabbed a handful of mane and rein, and started tugging, getting the horse acclimated to the pressure. She jumped up and down a few times at the beast’s side, and once she’d determined the mare was ready, stood at the sloped shoulder, and threw herself over the mare’s back, laying over her as the filly began to take a few steps. Elise spoke calmly to her, and with pressure on the reins, asked her to stop. When the horse quit moving, Elise dropped the reins, maintaining hold of the filly’s mane. Elise dropped to the ground.

“No one has been on your back like this, have they?” She cooed to the filly. “Well my sweet girl, you are in for a treat.”

She repeated the procedure for several minutes, until finally she threw her leg over the animal’s back. Once she’d adjusted her position, she cued the mare to walk forward. The horse took a hesitant step, then two, each time stopping when asked. Elise beamed, thrilled at the animal’s quick learning.

“Lor! Would ye look at that?” A second boy arrived at the rail to watch.

“Shh. The lady asked that we not move sudden-like or talk too loud,” the first boy replied.

Within minutes Elise had the horse turning left and right, walking and stopping, then trotting and stopping with only the barest shift in her seat and leg pressure. The animal had a nice, comfortable trot. Elise wanted to canter now but the paddock was really too small, so she motioned to the lad to open the gate. Three boys now stood at the rail, watching. She asked the mare to walk through, and out into the yard. The mare bolted through, heading for freedom. Elise stopped her quickly by pulling her into a tight circle before the horse gathered too much forward momentum, then brought the mare back into the paddock. They spent more time walking and stopping, walking and stopping. When she was ready, she asked the lad to once again open the gate. This time, rather than walk through the gate, Elise continued to walk and stop in the paddock, while the gate remained open. Only when Elise thought the mare would behave would she ask the mare to walk through, slowly and obediently.

“Just because the gate is opened does not mean you have to bolt through it. It is far more polite for a young lady to gracefully walk through the gate. It is as my finishing governess tried to instill in me,” Elise chuckled as she pat the horses neck. “Ugh. I can hear that woman now. Though in this regard she was correct.” She pointed the mare in the direction of the gate and cued the mare to walk in a nice relaxed pace.

Beautiful
, Elise thought as she made it through the gate without the horse bolting out into the open. The animal was turning out to be more responsive than she’d first understood from her talk with the stable lad. She stopped and started the mare several times in the stable yard, then once in the open field, she did it again at the walk and trot. On prompting her into the canter, the mare gave several bucks, not understanding what her rider wanted. Elise sat through them, pushing her forward with her seat and soon the horse moved into a wonderful rolling gait. With proper training, the gray would become a lovely hunter once she matured.

Wanting to feel the wind in her face and hair, Elise asked the mare to move a little faster as she let the animal have her head.

U
nable to lie in bed any longer, Michael dressed and went to the stable to arrange for mounts to be readied for the promised ride with the children. It was still early, and he doubted Elise or the children were up and about yet. He decided he’d get his ride out of the way, then work on some paperwork before they breakfasted. He had to keep busy or he’d think about last night. Again.

Strolling through the main barn, he didn’t see anyone about and wondered where everyone was. Normally there would be lads mucking out, bedding stalls and conditioning leather—all the chores of maintaining a proper stable. He heard voices behind the barn and followed the sound, and saw the lads all watching a rider far off in the field. When he reached the fence rail of the practice field, he stopped and watched the training session along with the others. He noted the skill with which the rider managed one of the young horses. The lad had amazing balance for such a gangly youth, and said as much to the hands nearby.

“That’s no lad, my lord,” said one youth. “That’s a girl! And she’s really good. You should’ve seen her swing on that mare’s back from the ground, then sit the fits the mare threw at her. Just wrapped her legs about the filly and held on like one o’ us!”

Michael’s breath froze in his chest. He only knew of one ‘girl’ who could or would do such a thing.
Damn her hide.
What was she thinking? She’d break her neck! All he could do was watch as she galloped across the fields, leaning forward over the mare’s neck, her long legs wrapped around the beast, racing the wind.

And winning.

She slowed to a canter and turned the mare easily, changing leads several times with cues from her seat and legs. As if she sensed his presence, she looked directly at him and smiled a broad, radiant, beatific grin. Slowing to a trot which she sat with the practiced ease of a riding master, she led the mare to the rail.

“Good morning!” Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “The day promises to be wonderful.”

“Get down from that beast right now,” he said with barely controlled rage. She could so easily have come off the horse, been horrifically injured, or even killed. He’d been afraid from the moment he recognized it was her on the mare.

“And good morning to you, too, Elise,” she replied, her grin changing quickly to a sneer. Then she continued to mock him as she imitated his autocratic voice. “I see you’ve started out your day in your favorite pastime. Tell me, Elise, how does the mare go?”

“Don’t get impudent with me, Elise,” he ordered, wanting nothing more than to take her over his knee. “You could’ve broken your neck. Or worse.”

At the booming anger in his voice, the filly began to step sideways away from the fence. “Temper your voice, Michael, you’re making the mare nervous. And, no I couldn’t have gotten hurt. This spirited mare is wonderfully responsive and a joy to ride.”

“You could have fallen.”

“And so? I would have fallen. I know how to fall, Michael. I’ve done so more times than I care to count.”

“Get off that horse.”

“I will when
I’m
ready. Not because
you
want me off or the
horse
wants me off, that’s for certain. It wouldn’t be good for her training.” She walked the mare forward, then backed her away from the rail, turned her away and cued her to canter across the field again. Then she disappeared onto the trail leading into the woods.

He called for a boy to bring him his gelding and to be quick about it. Within minutes, he was following behind her. Hopefully she had the sense to slow down. He didn’t see her, and his heart hammered inside him as he looked ahead for some sign of a fallen rider or riderless horse. There was none.

When he reached the wooden bridge crossing the creek, he stopped. Elise stood at the creek with the mare’s reins in hand, allowing it to drink. He leaped from the saddle and went to her, crushing her to him, to reassure himself she was indeed in one piece.

She turned her face to his and opened her mouth to say something. He silenced her with a bruising kiss. He intended to punish her, to teach her not to take lightly his feelings, especially when it concerned herself. But when her free hand wrapped around his neck, he became the one reprimanded. When she returned his fear and anger-filled kiss measure for measure, he understood. The things he wanted to discipline her for were the very qualities he adored about her—her passion for living, and her unconventional independence of spirit and mind.

He was falling in love with her. And that was why he was so frightened for her.

His hand roved lower and when he felt her bottom covered in leather breeches, he remembered this bit of unconventionality, too. Breaking the kiss, he looked into her face and stated flatly, “You are never to ride out like this again, understood?”

“No, Michael, I don’t understand,” she retorted. “Do you mean me taking a horse from your barn without asking you? Or not using a saddle? Or is it my wearing leather breeches? Because I have a very good reason for all of these, if you would care to hear them.”

“I don’t want to hear any excuses you may have. You are not ever to do these things again. You could have killed yourself.”

“Michael, I’ve been riding since I could walk. And riding
astride
for nearly as long. These breeches are made to my specification for exactly what I do. They provide better grip on horses’ backs than a saddle does. The horses seem to like it, too. They feel my seat and leg cues more clearly, thus understanding comes easier. I’ve found when training a horse, the most common mistake the human makes is not being clear in his or her requests. Once the horse understands what I am asking, I reintroduce each cue from the saddle and their learning proceeds in a less complicated, more natural way.”

He stood there, stunned speechless. “I never knew....”

“Michael, you’ve ridden horses I’ve trained at Haldenwood. Your chestnut in town, Attila, I trained him for
you,
Michael, because you’d shown interest in him.”

That was the horse Ren had refused to sell him because he’d originally wanted it for his own. While his friend was in Morocco, the Caversham groom had sold him the horse, saying his master decided to sell the horse before he sailed.

He groaned with sudden realization. “That was you with Old Ned at Monument Corner the day of the sale.”

It wasn’t a question, rather an observation made several years too late. Elise just nodded. As she did, his heart fell. Understanding slowly dawned and it both relieved him and angered him. Relieved that she obviously was more skilled than he’d ever known, and angered because this information was kept from him, though he understood why Ren did so. If the society matrons knew this about her, it could ruin her. Ladies simply did not ride astride, most especially without the use of a saddle.

Michael remembered how quiet and obedient Attila was, and gave up, deflated, his last argument nullified.

“Michael, Ren will tell you, that I’m good at what I do. In fact, I’m surprised he never has.”

“Perhaps it’s because he thought to protect your reputation.”

“Poppycock! No one pays a bit of attention to me or what I do. Why, I believe that until Marcus’ christening, half the
ton
didn’t even know I existed.”

“You’ve been allowed free rein too long, Elise.” His voice sounded weary, even to himself. He feared first for her safety, then for her being shunned by society. “Now you must think about your future and the future of our children. Your eccentric ways need tempering. I’m not saying you have to stop doing the things you love and being the vivacious young woman you are, but....” His voice was strained. Pained even. “I know what it is like to grow up in the shadow of scandal. It isn’t something I’d wish for our children.”

Elise’s brows came together as she squeezed her eyes shut. In the silence, Michael could see she struggled with some decision, as she was quiet for a moment. She heaved a deep, shaky sigh before turning those beautiful golden-brown eyes up to him. “I might be willing to concede to some of your points, but only while in town. When I am at home, in the country, I will continue as I have. It’s what I
do
, Michael. I don’t
know
anything else. I’m easily bored indoors. I’m hopeless at the pianoforte, I’ve tried. I also cannot sing or paint watercolors. And if that isn’t enough, my embroidery skills are wretched.” She wiped at something on her cheek and sighed. “So I suggest that if those are qualities you seek in a wife, then you need look elsewhere, because I can’t fulfill your requirements.”

If he ordered her to not to ride astride or wear breeches, she would only disobey him. With a sigh, he said, “Never in town and only when I am with you. Agreed?”

She was silent, refusing to acquiesce. Well, he didn’t care if she agreed or not. He was doing this for her own good.

“Also, please refrain from this behavior while my mother is here. I want her to think you a perfect countess—not judge you as too young and impulsive.”

A rumbling in his stomach reminded him they’d missed breakfast. “Let’s get back. I’m hungry.”

Rather than ride, they walked back to the barns, giving both of them time to collect themselves before running into the children or his sister.

A
fter they breakfasted, Elise and Michael took the children for a ride in the field behind the main barn where she’d ridden earlier. Elise was surprised to learn that the two older girls had their own ponies at Woodhenge, a gift from their Uncle, with little Sophia holding fast to a promise that he would get her a pony of her own as soon as her mother said she was old enough. When Sophia realized she would not be able to ride alone today, but only seated in front of her Uncle or Elise, she began to cry and ask to go back to the house. Her sisters were willing to let her leave, rather than include their youngest sibling. So Elise shared a secret with Sophia, then took the little one by the hand and went back into the barn. They returned a few minutes later with an aged gelding devoid of saddle. Elise had also removed her skirt, and was again in her breeches.