CHAPTER FOUR
‘What are you doing, Wyatt?’ I protested. ‘You said we wouldn’t be moving from the spot. Where are we going?’
‘We’re doing a lap of honour to please the crowd and sell more tickets,’ he called, ever the showman.
‘Right.’ I closed my eyes, feeling sick.
It felt so precarious, despite the fact that Wyatt now had the reins in one hand and was holding me around my waist with the other.
As the trot accelerated into a full-on canter, I could feel Wyatt’s fingers exploring the waistband of my shapewear. ‘What on earth are you wearing? Jumbo-sized knickers?’
‘Regency-style underwear,’ I gasped, staring ahead, my eyes like saucers as the road full of cars loomed ever closer. ‘Got to be authentic.’
Wyatt was taking the reins in both hands now.
And then suddenly we were slowing down and turning away from the road.
I breathed a sigh of relief as we began trotting at a more leisurely pace around the perimeter of the green. Thank goodness. I could just about cope with this kind of pace.
‘See. You’re fine,’ murmured Wyatt. ‘I knew you’d enjoy it.’
‘I don’t know about enjoying it,’ I grumbled, still annoyed with him.
But after a while, as we trotted around the green, I started to feel the old familiar rhythm of being on horseback, and I was even able to smile at the crowd that had gathered at the edge of the green by the café.
My rigid shoulders were slowly relaxing.
And by the time we’d completed several laps, with lots of people apart from Ellie now taking photos, I was even starting to enjoy myself, remembering how much I’d loved cantering across the fields at the riding school.
If I’d got right back on that horse after falling off, I wouldn’t have suffered from a fear of saddling up a horse ever since.
It was actually thanks to Wyatt that my terror was now melting away. And I made a decision right then that in future I would try to be more spontaneous. More adventurous.
I’d be more Wyatt.
I took the reins for the last lap as the appreciative audience clapped and cheered.
And when we finally ended up back at the café, Wyatt called out to the small crowd, ‘If you’d like to see more of us, come to the Regency Romp Festival at Brambleberry Manor a week on Saturday! We’d love to see you there.’
He jumped off the horse and I admired his athleticism. He had so much energy, despite being six years older than me. (Wyatt had been thirty-nine for the past four years – for publicity purposes – although I knew that his passport said he was forty-three.)
He pulled some leaflets from his pocket and began handing them out.
Feeling stranded, I glanced down. It was a very long way to the ground.
But Wyatt was chatting away to the people gathered there, charming them with his smiles and jokes, and doing a great job of convincing them that attending the Regency Romp Festival, celebrating Jane Austen, would make their life complete.
I looked around for Ellie, but she must have gone back into the café, and I was starting to panic a little. The horse seemed to be growing restless, shifting around. But if I tried to get off while wearing this dress, it could all end in disaster –
‘Need a hand?’ said a voice, and I smiled as I turned in the saddle, thinking it was Wyatt.
But it was Dante.
To my annoyance, I detected a small twist of amusement to his lips.
Yes, ha ha. It was all so hilarious, wasn’t it?
I was the scatty waitress who fell in ponds and ended up covered head to foot in green slime, then found herself stranded on top of a horse with no way of getting down!
I really wanted to decline his offer of help.
But a horrifying vision had flashed into my head: attempting to get off the horse myself and ending up collapsed in an ungainly heap at Dante’s feet. Or worse, revealing rather more than a thigh in the process and flashing my lurid green fat pants at the assembled crowd.
So I smiled stiffly and said thank you.
It was a big horse but he was easily tall enough to reach me.
Standing up in the stirrups, I wriggled my dress a fraction higher and managed to swing my right leg awkwardly behind me.
As I slid down, I felt the firm pressure of Dante’s hands on my waist from behind as he guided me safely to the ground.
Feeling oddly unnerved, as soon as I was down, I turned and tried to pull away from him. But in my eagerness to escape the unsettling touch of his hands, I felt myself veer slightly to the right, and I might have fallen over if he hadn’t grabbed hold of me and steadied me.
‘Okay?’ His eyes were darkly quizzical, his hands gripping my upper arms, and I felt a strange little tingle dance along my spine.
He’d lifted me down from that horse as if I weighed no more than a feather.
I nodded, my throat too parched to speak.