Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Saskia might’ve gasped, Liam couldn’t be sure.
What he was sure of, however, was that over the course of their walk and conversation the dreaded riding lesson had completely slipped her mind.
Well, it hadn’t slipped his.
“I think so.” Her words emerged more question than enthusiastic yes.
Which wasn’t the most auspicious start.
“What we’re doing now—simply walking the horses—can be your first riding lesson, if you like.”
She turned his offer over in her mind for a moment. “No, you’re right. I should learn to ride.” Her intention audibly firmed by the word. “And if I’m going to learn to ride, then I want my teacher to be you.”
Liam liked those last words. They were words a man could bask in. And perhaps he would, later. Now, he had a riding lesson to teach.
“And see? Your secret will be safe.” He gestured toward the surrounding park and specifically Rotten Row with its long, dual rows of plane trees. “Not a single fashionable aristocrat in sight.”
Still, nerves skittered about Saskia. As she was the most logical person Liam had ever met, he intuited the best approach—to talk her through it.
“First, you’ll give Peony another treat.
” He slipped Saskia a chunk of apple to give the filly.
“Now, we’ll check that the straps are secure.
” He led her to Peony’s flank and confirmed all was right and tight.
Saskia soaked in his every word and instruction, showing herself to be responsive and teachable.
Like a good filly.
He would keep that observation to himself.
“Now”—he was unable to put off the inevitable any longer—“it’s time you put your newfound knowledge into practice.”
“Into practice?”
She was buying time. He could only imagine her mouth had gone dry.
“It’s time to mount.”
He took a step toward her, and she froze. “What are you doing?”
“You’ll need my assistance.”
“Oh…ah…hmm.”
“Saskia.” He held her gaze steady. “There’s an attuning that happens between horse and rider when you allow it to happen, all right?”
She nodded, though her eyes gave her away. She didn’t believe him.
He handed her Peony’s reins. “You’ll hold these with one hand, and the pommel with the other.”
She did as instructed.
He squatted and laced his fingers together.
“As we don’t have a mounting block, I’ll give you a leg up.
You’ll place your left foot in my hands.
” When she hesitated, he said with a note of command in his voice, “Go on.” Tentatively, she placed her boot in his hands.
“Now, on three, I’ll lift and you’ll push off, then you’ll hook your right leg over the pommel. Simple as that.”
Her brow lifted with disbelief. “Simple?”
“Simple.” He gave that a moment to settle, then got straight to it. “One…two…three.”
And like that, she was up in the saddle, her right leg hooked on the pommel, her left foot secure in the footrest, an anxious laugh breathing past parted lips, an expression of plain amazement on her face. “I…I did it.”
As she stared down at him from her perch, a light flickered in her eyes—trust. She’d given over and trusted him. Trust went two ways. Horses had taught him that much. There was trust earned and trust given. There couldn’t be one without the other. And this woman…she trusted him.
He knew down to the marrow of his bones that he would never betray this woman’s trust.
That was what the light in her eyes said—she knew as much down to the marrow of her bones.
Liam swung into the saddle of his mount and turned Homer so he faced Saskia. “I’m going to give one click, and Homer and Peony will start walking. All right?”
Though trepidation skittered in her eyes, she nodded. He could only imagine her palms had gone sweaty. He clicked his tongue, and the horses eased into motion as they’d been trained to do. After a few steps, he asked, “How does it feel?”
“It feels…”
Liam found himself holding his breath.
She shook her head with a stunned laugh. “Wonderful.”
A stunned laugh of his own joined hers “We’ll make a horsewoman of you yet.”
More laughter sprang from her, and with that laughter, he sensed all her remaining tension release. “Will we go any faster today?” she asked.
“Do you want to?”
“I think I might.”
He could see she’d gotten the feel of Peony’s motion, her body moving with rather than against it. The attuning he’d spoken of, she’d found it. She was ready to take the pace into a trot.
They reached an offshoot bridleway that veered left. “Let’s take this path.”
Soon, they found themselves in a more overgrown part of Hyde Park. None of the park was actually wild, but here it was less tamed and less open to public speculation. Here, it was possible to pretend they weren’t in the center of a teeming metropolis.
Here, it could be just him and Saskia.
“So, Lady Saskia,” he said, playful, “you would like to go faster.”
“Oh, yes.”
He reined in Homer and allowed Saskia and Peony to take the lead. “Now,” he called out, “give two clicks of your tongue to signal to Peony that you would like her to increase her gait to a trot.”
A moment passed while Saskia considered his words and decided if faster was what she wanted. Then she clicked her tongue and Peony increased her pace. Behind, he waited. He would know fairly quickly if Saskia had taken it too far, too fast—and he would be there if she needed him.
Then he heard it—laughter trailing in her wake. A wild note trilled through that laughter, which shouldn’t have surprised him. Here was the part of herself that Saskia accessed when she wrote—the very same place from which Arabella sprang.
The truth was he’d now read two of her books.
He’d just been having a bit of fun with her earlier in the library.
Her writing was beautiful and insightful—observed.
This woman had observed life and those flowing through it alongside her.
But, also, her writing possessed this—daring…
wildness…that which ventured beyond restraint.
And that was her now—a daring woman—discovering her love of riding.
It had been important to him that she feel thus, but he hadn’t comprehended how important until this exact moment.
For in loving this—in loving riding—she loved a part of him, didn’t she?
Freedom.
The wind in her hair…crisp morning air in her lungs…Peony striding beneath her—striding might’ve been a stretch—Saskia felt free in a way she never had in her entire life.
It wasn’t only the ease of movement one experienced with a horse at one’s command, but, for example, she’d never once entered this untamed part of Hyde Park, a prospect that would’ve taken too long on foot.
She was a busy person. But on the back of a horse, one could see the world.
Alexander the Great might’ve been on to something with his equally great warhorse, Bucephalus.
Yet it wasn’t only about ease of movement and distances covered.
Communion existed between horse and rider.
An attuning was what Liam called it, and he was right.
Through some strange alchemy, she and Peony had become attuned to one another, and from there flowed a feeling of joy Saskia had never expected.
She’d always kept her distance from horses.
Simply, they were too big and humans were too small.
She’d never understood how humans came out with all their limbs intact in that equation.
But, now, she understood it.
A trill of laughter—a giggle, really—erupted from her and floated in her wake.
“Enjoying yourself, are you?” came from behind her.
“Oh, aye.”
Abandoned to joy, that was her in this moment.
Liam caught up to her, so they now rode side by side. “You’re a natural horsewoman, Lady Saskia.”
Yet another giggle released from her. How free she felt. “When you invaded my library this morning—”
“Invaded? A rather combative way of putting it. Is this how you speak to all new members of Sirens?”
She cut him a saucy glance. Her…saucy. “I wasn’t sure what to expect,” she continued.
“Then you said there was to be a riding lesson.” She shook her head.
“The thing is when I became a lady, I suffered through all manner of lessons.” She held up one finger at a time as she counted them off.
“Dancing…comportment…tea serving…needlework…oh, you wouldn’t believe all the lessons young ladies must suffer. ”
“But never riding lessons.”
“I put my foot down there.”
“And now have you experienced a change of heart?”
She twisted to meet his amused gaze. “Liam, I love it. I love…this.”
What word other than this would’ve followed had she not hesitated in the split of a second before it passed her lips?
For a word other than this seemed to want to follow the two words preceding it.
She swallowed that word down. “And”—she gathered her wits before she became entirely carried away and made a complete fool of herself—“you’ve been riding since you were a child?”
“Oh, aye, Gemma and I were practically barn cats we spent so much time in the stables.”
“Who is the older twin—you or Gemma?” She was making light conversation—the sort of conversation she never made—and found herself enjoying it.
“Gemma is the elder.” He snorted. “And believe me when I say she doesn’t let me forget it.”
“Aren’t sisters wonderful?” She gave a teasing roll of the eyes, even as she felt the sentiment in all seriousness.
“Aye, that they are.” He felt the same in both regards, that was what his eyes told her.
Really, they felt the same in a great number of ways, didn’t they?
“So, Saskia…”
“Yes?”
“What time would you like your daily riding lesson?”
She felt her brow lift. “My daily riding lesson?”
Her question went ignored. “Since you write and tend Sirens in the mornings, I’m thinking afternoons are your best time. Let’s say three o’clock?”
“But aren’t you leaving London? So, how…” she stammered, “who…?”
He nodded as if she’d just agreed. “Tomorrow afternoon at three o’clock, a groom from Rake and Gemma’s stable will arrive with Peony and give you a riding lesson. I know just the lad for the job.”