Chapter Three
As November slid into December, and the Christmas season neared, much of the talk around Upper Bicklesworthy focussed on the upcoming Mistletoe Cup.
Traditionally held on the day after Christmas, the idea was to run the race in the early afternoon, weather permitting, finishing in time for everyone to clean up and attend the annual Mistletoe service at the Church of St. Stephanus in the village.
At the conclusion, the Vicar would certify the race results and formally award the trophy to the winner.
Exactly when it had been decided that heavenly approval of the winner was required…
well, nobody was really sure. It had been that way for generations, and traditions were always honoured.
In addition, it was one of the few times the Vicar could be assured of almost a hundred per cent attendance on the part of his flock.
Immediately after his declaration, the entire congregation would take itself off to the Bickle Arms, where copious amounts of ale and mulled wine would be consumed in celebration.
The lucky winner would hold both Cup and bragging rights for the next eleven months, after which period it would be returned to Kendall Manor, to be held in trust for the next victorious rider.
Always aware that she was ineligible to participate, thanks to her sex, Geraldine felt the usual frustration creeping up as the event drew closer.
Early one morning, she decided to take a major risk, and ride the course on Flora.
Just for her own enlightenment. The sun was barely up, it was definitely chilly, and she doubted anyone else would be abroad at this hour.
She’d seen Sir Blaine once or twice, receiving little more than a brief nod in passing.
Whether he knew who she was or not…well, it was never clear, and she applauded herself for making sure her appearance was guaranteed not to attract his attention when he visited Holly Grange.
She didn’t mind one whit, of course. He was of no interest to her at all, other than his plans for the stables before selling up.
He did have quite nice brown eyes, knew his horseflesh – to judge by the beautiful pair of blacks drawing his carriage – and could probably handle a seventeen-hand mount like Thunder with no difficulty. But other than those positive qualities, she had tried to put him out of her mind.
Especially this morning, since she was clad in warm, tight breeches, snug riding boots and several layers of wool wrappings, topped by another ancient boy’s riding jacket she’d found in the attic.
In this shockingly outrageous get-up, she put the reins on Flora, mounted her with the help of a block, and rode her from the Holly Stables into the weak sunshine.
It was brisk and she blessed that scruffy cap, grinning as she recalled the groom’s face when she asked for it back. It had taken a few minutes to persuade him she was quite serious about her request.
“Where are yer off to, then, Missy?” Jepson blocked her, ignoring Flora’s whinny of disgust.
“We’re going…” Geraldine sighed. “If you must know, we’re going to ride over the Cup course. You must have heard that Sir Blaine has opened it to all comers? A nice thought, actually. If one is familiar with it, then a lot of problems can be avoided, and it makes for a better race.”
“An’ I’m sure everyone’ll have a good run because of it,” he replied dryly. “Don’t mean yer gets ter run with ‘em.”
“I know. This is as close as I’ll probably get, and that saddens me, but at least I’ll prove we could have finished.”
“Well, if yer must, yer must. I can throw a saddle on fer yer in two shakes of a lamb’s tail…” His voice sounded uncertain.
She laughed. “Jepson. You know me and you know Flora. Do you really think I need a saddle?”
He harrumphed. “Don’t yer be breakin’ that neck o’ yers.”
“I promise.” She grinned at him and turned Flora’s head, gently touching her with the heels of her boots. “We’ll be back before you know it.”
Heading away from Holly Stables, Geraldine wanted to sing her joy aloud as she walked Flora decorously across the fields toward Kendall Manor. Even though it was quite early, their stables would be filled with the usual activities, so she decided to pick up the racecourse in the woods just beyond.
Encouraging Flora into a steady canter, they made good progress and before long the smooth swath of turf running into the woods lay before them.
“All right, my girl.” Geraldine leaned down and rubbed Flora’s neck. “Want to have a run?”
Long ears flickered and the horse gave a tiny whinny, as if she knew exactly what her rider had in mind.
Laughing aloud, with a touch of her heels, girl and animal plunged forward, going into a full gallop within moments.
Exhilarated, leaning low over Flora’s neck, Geraldine let her have her head, easing her into a smooth stride that ate up the distance through the woods. She had no idea of the time, but she knew they were flying as fast as any other horse out there.
At the end of this portion, the trees would thin out and the first field would come into view. Geraldine had studied this course so often, she could ride it blindfold if she had to, but there was always the threat of some unexpected rabbit hole or fallen tree to slow their progress.
“There we are, Flora. The field…”
Sunlight glistened on the frozen ground as the horse pounded over it, her breaths making clouds of fog, mimicking those of the girl on her back.
For a big horse, Flora was light of foot, and Geraldine comfortably held on with knees and hands. Andalusians were known for their power, and this carried into their pace – even and comfortable.
“Right then,” called Geraldine. “A hedge. We’ll clear that with feet to spare, won’t we?” She eased Flora a little to the right and headed for the lowest point, sailing over with barely a hitch in the horse’s pace.
“Wonderful. Good girl,” praised Geraldine as they sped up again to cross the next field.
This one was bordered by a hedge and then on the other side was a small stream.
She’d have to slow for it, since the surfaces might be icy and the last thing she wanted was Flora sliding around and losing her footing.
Just as they reached the approach, she heard something behind her and turned her head for a quick look.
A rider was closing on her, a man on a big black horse. Was that Thunder?
“Oh damn.” Geraldine clenched her teeth. Of course it had to be Sir Blaine Kendall, damn the man.
Returning her concentration to the ride, she gave Flora her head to clear the low hedge, which she did without a check.
The other horse was gaining, though, and she had to move away lest they land too close and collide.
The stream was a few lengths yet, so she let Flora run, knowing she’d splash happily through and once on the other side they could fly away from their pursuers once more.
Flora, on the other hand, seemed to think differently.
She slowed, making Geraldine frown and nudge her insistently with her heels. “Come on, lovey. We can’t stop…”
But Flora, for the first time in her life, refused to obey. Instead of speeding up, or slowing down, she stopped short and bowed low.
Neatly precipitating Geraldine over her head and into the icy stream.
Blaine caught sight of the grey horse and small rider as they emerged from the forest on the Cup track.
He cursed luridly, unable to comprehend the level of idiocy required to ride the course alone, in the bitter cold, and without a damn saddle. Whoever the boy turned out to be, he was in for a good dressing down once Blaine got his hands on him.
The horse…well, if his eyes weren’t mistaken, it was an Andalusian. The colouring was right, the chest broad and muscles bunching with power as they galloped toward the hedge and the stream beyond.
He had to take a moment to acknowledge that it was indeed a beauty. He’d seen a few of them, of course, but never like this…unfettered and clearly enjoying the morning’s outing.
They took the hedge in a beautiful flying arc, and he followed, urging Thunder in pursuit.
A yelp from the other side made him rein in and he trotted over, just in time to see that lovely horse stop short and precipitate its rider neatly into the stream.
It was a precise and, if he hadn’t known better, planned move on the part of the animal, who moved delicately out of the shallow water, watching the rider as he struggled to his feet.
Waterlogged and probably freezing, the lad staggered to the bank, clearly uncomfortable and mumbling under his breath.
The horse, incredibly, moved closer and nudged him affectionately.
At that, the hat ripped off, and a tousled slick of wet curls fell down the back of the tattered jacket.
“Don’t try to make up for that, you horrid girl. What were you thinking?”
It was a woman’s voice, and Blaine suddenly realised he was looking at Miss Geraldine Foster.
Her teeth were chattering, but still she upbraided her horse. “Flora. What the hell did I ever do to you to make you do that? We were having a great run. You could have simply slowed down. Why drop me in the water? You bad, bad girl.”
The forceful lecture ended with Miss Foster dropping a kiss on the nose of the horse.
Blaine could have sworn the horse laughed.
“Good morning.” He decided it was time to make his presence known. He backed away, then took Thunder over the hedge at a distance, so as not to disturb the delightful scene of amused horse and wet rider.
“Oh d-d-damn. Just what I need.”
He heard the words quite clearly in the still air and managed to suppress a grin. “Having a spot of bother, Miss Foster?”
“N-n-n-o. Of c-c-course not.” She lifted her chin and pulled her wet jacket around herself, trying to conceal a large shiver. “If you-c-can just give me a l-l-leg up…”
“Oh good Lord.” He drew Thunder up alongside the grey and jumped down. “You’re freezing, you stupid girl.” He took off his riding jacket. “What the hell were you thinking?”
He asked her the same question she’d asked her horse.
“I was riding.” She lifted her chin in defiance, but pulled his coat around herself, her face white with cold.
“I could see that,” he answered dryly. “Until your mount decided she’d had enough.” He finally looked at the horse, who met his gaze with dark eyes. Again, just for a moment, he could’ve sworn he saw amusement deep within. “She’s a beauty, by the way. Andalusian?”
“Y-y-yes.” She lifted a hand to her face and wiped her nose on her sleeve.
He was about to ask more questions when he realised that young Miss Foster’s lips were far too pale.
“All right.” He turned to Thunder and pulled himself up into the saddle, then held out his hand to the wet puddle of girl standing next to him.
“Come on. You need to warm up or you’ll catch the ague, die, and everyone will blame me even though I had nothing to do with it. ”
“B-b-but…”
“Don’t argue. Just give me your hand. Wait.” He frowned. “Give me your horse’s reins first. Then you can sit in front of me, and we’ll go back to Kendall Manor. It’s closer than Holly Grange.”
He saw the battle raging within her and knew the moment she admitted defeat.
Silently she passed him the reins and then accepted his help, letting him easily pull her up onto Thunder’s back.
Her breeches allowed her to settle in front of him, where he made sure his arm was around her and her back pressed to his front.
Which was all well and good, but she was soaked through and not many minutes had passed before his now jacket-less torso dampened as well.
“God, it’s cold. And you’re wet. Has anybody told you you’re a headstrong idiot?”
She nodded. “M-m-more than once.”
“Nearly there.” He managed a smooth canter, pleased to note that the grey was matching them step for step.
Since they were close to the Kendall paddocks, the stables appeared in less than five minutes from the stream, and just before the moisture from his passenger hit his bare skin, they arrived.
With a sigh of relief, he slid off Thunder’s back and tossed the reins of both horses to the groom who came running.
“Look after these two, will you? Miss Foster will reclaim her horse before too long.” He looked at Geraldine. “Will she be all right with my grooms?”
The girl nodded. “She knows them.” Her teeth chattered. “G-g-good friends with Thunder.”
“Right. Well, come down then, and we’ll get you something to wear, and me a clean and dry shirt.”
She slid off Thunder’s back, landed, and staggered, nearly collapsing as the cold took her and weakened her legs.
“Oh for God’s sake…”
Blaine huffed out an annoyed breath, stalked over, and picked her up in his arms. She weighed next to nothing, and he wondered for a moment how the hell she controlled a horse the size of the Andalusian.
Then she shivered again, her entire body racked with cold, and he hurried toward Kendall Manor with a sigh. “Lord save me from stubborn and irritating women.”