Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
“Miss Amelia,” the groom said, turning around from the horse he was brushing, “to what do I owe the pleasure of seein’ ye.”
Darragh was there, watching Amelia speak with that mask of cordiality. She hadn’t expected to find him here. There was a chance that he’d thwart her plan, but this made the test even more important.
Amelia smiled at both of them, projecting exaggerated professionalism. She’d taken a page out of Isla’s book. If she were truly free, truly allowed to do as she pleased, she should be able to do this.
“I was hopin’ to go ridin’ today,” she said, polite but firm. “Mrs. Rowan and Hazel believe that if I’m to heal, I should strengthen me ribs with real movement rather than pacin’ the corridors like a restless ghost.”
“I can prepare a pony for ye,” the groom said immediately.
Before he could get too far, Darragh held up a hand. His eyes were still on Amelia, looking her over as if he were trying to come to his own conclusions about her reasoning. Finally, he asked, “And where is it ye’d like to ride?”
“Well, it’s nay like I can truly strengthen meself if I’m just ridin’ in the inner courtyard,” she said, carefully keeping defiance out of her voice. “I was plannin’ on goin’ a bit further.”
Darragh’s jaw ticked, and she braced herself for the inevitable argument. He would only prove to her that the freedom she’d been granted was a farce. It was a leash, and he was about to tighten it.
So, when he said, “I suppose their advice is sound,” her jaw dropped.
“Ye’re lettin’ me ride outside of the inner courtyard?” she asked, unable to keep the surprise from her voice. She recollected herself quickly, saying, “I expected that ye wouldnae be keen on me goin’ out of yer guards’ sight.”
“I’m nae lettin’ ye go on yer own,” he said as he looked toward the groom. “Prepare me mare as well. I will accompany Amelia.”
“Yes, Me Laird,” the groom said, bowing slightly before disappearing deeper into the stables.
“I’m capable of ridin’ on me own,” Amelia argued as soon as they were alone. “Ye daenae need to watch me.”
“Ye may be capable,” Darragh said, deceptively light, “but ye’re still nae fully recovered.”
“Ye speak as if ye daenae think I can ride,” she challenged, though that didn’t feel quite right.
“That’s nae at all why I’m comin’ with ye,” he replied. He took a step closer to her, and she cursed the way her breath caught. “It’s only practical. The outer hills are uneven, and ye may need some help. I’d prefer me, guards daenae find ye on the ground incapacitated.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond. There was truth to that statement, she could tell, but there was more. It didn’t feel as though he was caging her.
Perhaps he’s tryin’ to make up for invitin’ the McGowans despite me nae wantin’ it. It’s the same as when he granted me freedom to roam the keep. An apology.
“I suppose I should thank ye for yer concern,” she said after a beat, unable to find a way to argue against his presence, “though I’m quite competent.”
He grunted, something flashing in his gaze. If she didn’t know any better, she’d mistake it for surprise. He didn’t have time to give her another response, though, as the groom approached, leading two well-behaved horses. She recognized the bay from the first time she met Darragh.
“She’s a beautiful animal,” Amelia whispered before she could stop herself.
“Aye,” Darragh agreed, leading her toward the smaller dun. “Her mother belonged to me, predecessor. Her bloodline has been in the clan for nearly as long as the clan has existed.”
She nodded, her fingers twitching at her side with the desire to reach out and touch. Instead, she stroked the snout of her own filly. “And her?”
“Her mother was a gift when I became Laird,” Darragh replied.
Amelia swallowed around an emotion she was too afraid to name. Before she’d fully recovered, he came to her side. For a moment, she tensed. Then, she realized he was only there to help her into the saddle.
“I’m capable of doin’ this meself,” she complained, though she kept her voice low and didn’t resist when he grabbed onto her wrist. “I’m nearly recovered.”
“But nae fully,” he observed, his hands coming to rest on her waist. “Daenae strain yerself before ye even get to ride.”
He lifted her, then. His hands were gentle, but she felt secure. Each one of his fingertips smoldered against her skin through her gown. She tilted her head, allowing her hair to fall in front of her face to hide the way she blushed as he settled her comfortably in the saddle.
By the time he mounted his mare, stroking her neck with reverence, Amelia’s cheeks had cooled. Her palms thrummed with anticipation as she took hold of the reins. It had been more than half a year since she’d last had the chance to ride.
“Are ye ready?” he asked, already moving his horse forward as he glanced at her over his shoulder.
“Aye,” she replied, grinning without apology as the wind hit her face.
* * *
As soon as the crisp air washed over her, Amelia pulled her horse in front of Darragh. He said nothing, a bit enraptured by the ease with which she moved. He allowed her to keep her lead until they were out of the inner courtyard.
The hills began to open up before them when he trotted to her side. He got in close and slowed down, reaching over to run his fingers along her spine. She shivered, but immediately sat up a little straighter.
“Yer form is good,” he observed, leaving her space once more, “but ye’ll want to keep yer back a bit straighter, so ye daenae strain yerself.”
“Ye’re correct.” Her voice was clipped, and her focus was on a point in the middle distance. “It’s been a while since I’ve ridden.”
“Do ye see why I insisted on comin’ with ye?” Darragh asked.
“I’ve already thanked ye for yer concern,” she bristled, though she didn’t sound truly upset. “I cannae bow to ye if that’s what ye’re waitin’ for. I’m a bit preoccupied on me horse.”
He laughed, unrestrained and unexpected. Getting ahold of himself quickly, he said, “Nay, ye daenae have to do anythin’ like that lass. But we’re comin’ up on some steep inclines. Let the saddle absorb the slope, nae yer ribs, aye?”
She made a sound of annoyed acknowledgment, though she took his advice. Her body shifted in the leather, her hips becoming more grounded in the curve. When they began moving up, her new posture redirected the impact with each hoof fall.
As they continued their ride, he observed how she moved.
She handled the horse confidently. While he’d believed that she had ridden before, he hadn’t expected her to ride quite like this.
It was almost as if she were communicating with the filly silently.
The trail dipped, and while the animal corrected her path, Amelia shifted her hips with instinctive balance.
She’s been on these animals enough to trust them to do their jobs.
Keeping quiet, he allowed her to go in front of him as the trail narrowed. She took the twists and uneven ground without looking away from the landscape. The light filtering in through the trees caught the curve of her nose, painting her cheeks in soft, golden light.
It cascaded down her body, caressing her backside. He felt mesmerized by the way she moved, and he could imagine exactly how the shifts would feel against his chest. The fire within him for her that never fully went out flared hotter.
After a few more minutes of rocky terrain, the landscape opened up. With a little laugh, she nudged her horse forward, widening the small gap that had been between them. The action was deliberate, a test of just how much freedom he was giving her, but it didn’t feel defiant.
As she continued to pull away, she glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes were bright with challenge, and the carefree smile he’d seen when she was in the kitchens was back. When he said nothing, she pushed further, turning back to the path in front of her.
Is she challengin’ me?
For a few moments, he allowed it. Her posture loosened in the saddle as grass replaced rock. When she sped up, her hair flew behind her. The strands whipped out like threads of spun gold in the sunbeams.
He waited, allowing her a few more moments to lengthen the distance between them. Then, he dug his heels into his mare’s sides, leaning over her neck and urging her faster. She responded immediately, and he could tell just how excited the animal was to show off.
Ach, I’m nae lettin’ ye get away from me, lass.
The mare’s hooves dug into the ground, eating away the distance easily. Cool air bit into his skin, but the sun warmed the places it touched. It didn’t take him more than a minute to catch up with Amelia.
With a smirk, he effortlessly guided his mount across her path, forcing her to slow. She and her horse let out a snort of protest at the same time. With a bit of finesse, he brought them to a stop.
I should have taken her ridin’ sooner.
“Ye’re nae as subtle as ye think,” he said, amusement threading through the words.
She lifted her chin slightly, a playful glint in her smile. “Neither are ye.”
He scoffed, looking around the landscape. The sun was still high in the sky, and without the cover of the trees, the air was pleasant. It was incredibly green this time of year, with more shades of green than he could name.
“It’s quite bonnie out here,” she observed, capturing his attention again.
She wasn’t looking at him, though. Her focus was on the sky. A pure white cloud floated lazily across the blue canvas above them. He took the opportunity to commit her image to memory. She looked even more relaxed than he thought possible.
I may have to rethink me strategy with her. It seems she’s flourishin’ in me company this afternoon.
After a few long beats, Amelia urged her horse to turn around. Her gaze focused on the path they’d taken to get there. As the filly took a step a bit too hard, a flash of pain crossed Amelia’s expression, gone just as quickly as it came. He caught it, though.
Immediately, he dismounted and marched over to her. Already, she was trying to pretend it didn’t happen, giving him a put-on look of confusion. He ignored the expression, examining the saddle.
He spotted the problem quickly. At some point, the balance strap had loosened, the saddle shifting and redistributing Amelia’s weight, adding pressure to her ribs.
With strong, decisive hands, he adjusted the leather slightly, avoiding her riding cane when she turned back to watch him work.
Then, he walked around to the other side and glanced at the stirrup.
It was positioned just a bit too high, probably putting undue strain on her knees.
Ach, the groom is nae used to preparin’ horses for women ridin’ sidesaddle. It’s a wonder it took her this long to feel the pain.
Above him, Amelia went still, but the tension that had marked most of their interactions was absent. She was still wary, but she said nothing as he lowered the stirrup. He worked with deliberate care, his brow furrowed, his fingers precise.
“Ye look very serious about it,” she said.
It sounded like an invitation to restart their banter, but he didn’t give his usual sharp exchange back. He was quite serious about this. He wasn’t going to let her injure herself further. When he finished, he smoothed the girth, assessing its position.
If her well-bein’ wasnae in question, perhaps I’d play along.
His callused fingers brushed against her lithe ones as he put the leather back into place. He let his touch drift over her knuckles, lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary. Even when he pulled away, the residual tingling of the contact worked its way through his limbs.
For a long moment, his eyes traced the place where the soft of her thigh, wrapped in the sky-blue fabric of her new gown, met the solid leather of the saddle.
His gaze traveled up slowly, taking in the rise and fall of her chest. When he caught her watching him, her breath caught, but it wasn’t from her ribs.
Her eyes are sparklin’.
He was close enough now that he could see the faint flush along her cheekbones. He felt, more than saw, the moment she forced her lungs to cooperate. She was waiting. He might even believe that she was inviting him in.
He couldn’t refuse a request from her.
Just as he began to give in to the magnetic pull, his hand going back to hers, his mare whickered sharply behind them. Both of them pulled their hands back to themselves suddenly. Neither moved for a beat, then Darragh returned his attention to the saddle.
Jealous animal.
He checked each of the buckles with calculating efficiency. Then, smoothing the horse’s hair, he stepped away. Amelia tilted her head slightly, the blush slowly fading from her cheeks.
“Test the saddle, Amelia,” he instructed her, his voice low but not demanding, as inviting as he could muster.
She did as he said, moving without complaint. She looked down at her mare as she shifted her hips in the saddle. Her foot sat more comfortably in the stirrup, and the pressure on her body redirected fully away from her injuries. Finally, he took a step back.
“Well?” he asked when she stayed quiet.
She lifted a brow, her mouth quirking upward as she said, “Adequate.”
“That’s high praise from ye,” he rumbled, the warmth he felt for her leaking through.
“I suppose it is.”
He held her eyes for another beat. All of the hitched breaths and subtle tension settled in the space between them. Then, he forced himself to look away, mounting his horse once more.
She waited until he was seated to nudge her filly forward. Her pace was slower this time, not pulling too far away. Darragh followed her, urging his own mare to close the gap.
When he fell in behind her, she looked over her shoulder. There was a question in her gaze, and she looked pointedly at the place beside her before returning her attention to the trail. He took it as the invitation that it was.
Taking his place at her side, he gave her one last lingering look. He didn’t know what had changed, but he no longer felt as if he needed to defend his presence. And considering the way that the ghost of a smile lingered on her lips, he was certain she felt the same way.