Chapter Twenty-Five
The following morning, Nathaniel rode in as Frances walked the girls to the stables, or as close to them as she felt comfortable getting, then turned back towards the house as soon as they galloped off.
“Just in time.” He stopped her, then smiled as he dismounted, handing the reins to a stable hand before walking over.
He’d decided he wouldn’t ask about her reaction the night before, but he’d been trying to come up with something he could do to either distract her or remind her she could be happy here.
“For what?”
“Your lessons.”
Frances did not share his enthusiasm.
“No, no, I came to walk the girls over and get some fresh air. I have no interest in—”
“Horses? Or simply riding them?”
“I’m fine with them. From a distance.”
“What about feeding them carrots and sugar cubes?” he tried.
“Are you short a stable hand?”
“No, but I would hate for you to be held back because you never got a chance to know them.”
“I don’t see why I would ever need to ride.”
“For exercise? To get out of the rain? To explore the countryside? There are many reasons. Have you met Buttercup?”
“Are they a horse?” He nodded. “Then no, I have not.”
“Buttercup was Lizzie’s horse, but she hardly comes anymore, and poor Buttercup, well, she’s feeling quite neglected, forgotten, unloved.”
“Are you attempting to guilt me into getting onto a death trap?”
“It sounds wrong when you put it like that, but I am trying to guilt you into letting me show you that there is nothing to be afraid of. Because I think that if you did, you would enjoy it.” She looked at him with fear and skepticism, so he added, “I promise to be as careful as the first time I rode with Grace, and to stop the second you no longer wish to.”
“I already don’t wish to.”
“I know, but worst comes to worst, I’ll have given you the means to fill a saddle bag with gold and escape to France if needed.”
He tried to get her to smile, but he also imagined the final years of marriage had been easier on Lizzie because she could ride for hours, or even to Lark Estate if she truly needed to.
“Do you wish me to escape?” Frances turned it on him.
“No.”
He was surprised by how certain he was of that fact.
As much as it killed him that he couldn’t be what she’d hoped for—what she deserved—he did enjoy her company.
Doing things she would enjoy and watching her blush when she accidentally called him hers.
He wasn’t sure if he ever wanted her to figure it out, though it would be better for everyone once she did.
“Horses are more dangerous if you’re afraid and don’t know how to approach them.”
“It’s out of concern for my safety that you want to teach me to ride away?” she teased.
“Precisely.” He meant it. They both knew it. And even if he failed, she was smiling again.
“I’ll give it a try.”
He grinned.
When Nathaniel set Buttercup beside a wooden step, Frances wanted nothing more than to remind him of his promise to stop as soon as she no longer wished to ride. A feeling that continued as Mr. Brimley helped her climb…basically into Nathaniel’s lap.
“Women ride side saddle, but my main concern is getting you comfortable with horses,” Nathaniel explained.
She was sitting on one of his thighs while her legs dangled over the other, her arms around Nathaniel’s neck and her head buried in his chest. She assumed she was supposed to be looking out at some point, but as tall as horses looked from below, it was higher from atop, and she much preferred it with her eyes closed, breathing in Nathaniel’s scent to calm herself.
“Are you well?” he asked after a couple of minutes at a steady pace she was certain was slower than walking.
“Wonderful,” she said directly into his shirt.
“This trail leads to the old stables, which we mostly use for storage now. The new ones are better for the horses, but I always wanted to climb up these vines here.”
“You’re trying to trick me,” Frances warned.
“I’m trying to draw you out and get you to concentrate on something other than your fear.”
She chanced a glance and saw the old building was covered in wooden vines, almost like they were trying to swallow it.
“Did you ever try?” she asked.
“No, but Thomas made it onto the roof once, as did Teddy. Lizzie was about to as well, but James had gone before her, and he fell. It was forbidden after that.”
“Was James injured?” Not that Nathaniel was a rule breaker, but she didn’t see him giving up so easily.
“My father saw two boys on the roof and ran over, just in time to catch him. James told everyone the story of what a hero our father was, but I saw the terror in his eyes when he was running over and never wanted to cause anyone that pain.”
Nathaniel should have chosen a happier story if he wanted to draw Frances out and make her feel safe, but her eyes were on his face now. He cleared his throat and looked ahead.
“Those bloom every year for maybe three weeks, and the entire area gets covered in tiny white petals.”
He took to telling her about the flowers he could see, before pointing out structures in the distance. She kept her arms around Nathaniel’s neck, probably holding on tighter than she needed to, but she let her eyes wander, discovering bits and pieces of Lark Estate.
By the time they got back to the stables, Frances almost wished they could stay out longer.
The following morning, Frances walked out looking uncomfortable in a pelisse that hid the riding pants Nathaniel gave Sarah the night before.
“I was worried you wouldn’t wear them.”
For a moment, he feared she was going to say something about obedience. He would abandon the entire project if she was doing it only because he, as her husband, told her to.
“I’ve seen your sisters wear them, so I assume wearing them within the estate is not the worst thing.”
“It isn’t,” he agreed. “I don’t know how to fit two people on a side saddle, but I’ll let you take the reins today.”
“I think we can wait a few weeks for that,” she protested.
“Do you trust me, Frances?”
She opened her mouth to reply, then sighed, and Nathaniel realized he was holding his own breath, waiting for her answer. He’d meant it as a teasing, don’t-you-know-I-won’t-hurt-you, but she seemed to be weighing her options.
“I’ll hand them over if and when you feel comfortable,” he decided, trusting Mr. Brimley to keep the horse steady while he took her hand to help her into the front of the saddle, quickly climbing up behind her before she had a chance to process that she was alone on the horse.
The saddle was meant for someone quite large, so it fit the two of them, but Frances’ back was pressed against his front. She was nearly shaking with fear.
“I’ve got you,” Nathaniel assured her, reaching his arms on either side of her waist to grab the reins, resting his arms closer to her body than they needed to be, so she could feel them.
He took deep breaths and let them out, thrilled when she followed his lead until her heart was no longer racing.
Or at least it wasn’t going any faster than his, which was perfectly fine while galloping on a horse, but apparently not when pressed against his wife, breathing in the lavender from her hair, and questioning what made him think this was a good idea.
“I’m fine.” She sounded like she was convincing herself as much as him.
“Are your eyes open?”
“Yes.”
He smiled, convinced she’d opened them just before answering.
“Keep them that way, and don’t forget to breathe.” Her hands were white from how tightly she was gripping the pommel. “It’s best not to jerk on the reins, so if you’re afraid and want me to stop, you can tell me, or grab my thigh.”
“Are you sure you’ll feel it?” she asked nervously.
He squeezed to get the horse moving, and she reached for him, as he’d expected. The feel of her hand on his thigh went right to his core, even before her nails dug into his pants.
“I promise you, I will feel it.” He didn’t mean to, but the words were gruff, said almost as a whisper into her right ear. Her breath hitched, hopefully due to his warm breath on her neck rather than the hardness he tried to keep from her in the saddle.
They went out a little longer, with Nathaniel again commenting on everything they rode past, keeping his arms around Frances to make her feel safe, to show her what to do once she took the reins.
If anyone asked, he would say it was awkward yet necessary.
But by they end of the ride, the thought of anyone else teaching Frances to ride in this manner made him sick.
It would be in everybody’s best interest for her to be proficient on her own as quickly as possible.
On the fifth day, Frances let Nathaniel convince her to hold the reins for a bit on the ride back. After a week, she steered when they were walking or trotting, but handed them back whenever they cantered or galloped, because she didn’t trust herself to be in control when she had her eyes closed.
Every time they went fast, she concentrated on the sound of Nathaniel breathing at her ear, the warmth of his body against hers, the beating of her own heart in her ears.
She understood that he wanted her to get used to it so she wouldn’t be afraid if ever it happened when she was alone on the horse, but she prayed it never would.
She did, however, enjoy the way he held the reins in one hand and wrapped his arm tightly around her middle, whispering reassurances in her ear that felt like a caress every time they slowed down after.
At first, the riding was something she dreaded and only did to please Nathaniel—and because it allowed her to spend an hour in his arms every morning, learning about his childhood and her new home—but she could see how it might not be the worst thing to spend a day on horseback, exploring the countryside.
Assuming you had the right company.
“If ever I’m alone and my horse goes that fast—”
She was going to say her heart would give out before anyone could reach her, but Nathaniel was helping her dismount, and while he usually just placed her down in front of him, this time he slid her down the length of his body before her boots hit the ground, standing so close to Nathaniel that he could probably feel how fast her heart was pounding against her chest.
She looked up at him, their breathing shallow, sharing the same charged air, as his eyes moved down to her lips. Frances’ eyes closed, waiting for the kiss she’d only dreamed of, but the sound of horses, most likely his sisters returning, had Nathaniel taking a step back.
“I’ll be sure to rescue you,” he said. “Preferably before it happens, but definitely before you close your eyes and assume the worst.”
He gave her a sad smile, then wiped his thumb against her cheek, presumably because of dirt, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d found a tear.