Chapter Nine
Dorian’s mood was not improved the next morning when he stomped down the stairs and made straight for the study, ordering some strong tea from a passing footman.
With the tea came the correspondence deemed too important to wait until he returned from Coylton Castle.
Despite his past neglect of his duties and his debauchery, he’d become very devoted to his estates and holdings.
Much like Amelia did, he insisted upon close contact with his solicitors and stewards.
It gave him a sense of control and order after spending years as a subject of derision and gossip, of floundering when he thought he’d already found his way.
As he skimmed a missive, the image of him and Amelia sharing a large, but cozy, study, each with their own desks, working in comfortable, companionable silence, came unbidden to his mind. It was a decidedly pleasant musing, muddying his mind with distraction on numerous levels.
Amelia, completing her work alongside him.
Amelia, smiling at him over a stack of accounts.
Amelia, sighing in pleasure as he rubbed the stiffness from her neck.
Amelia, bent over her desk, her skirts thrown up past her hips as he—
There was no use trying to concentrate.
He shoved his correspondence to the side, gulped down the last of his searing tea, and stormed from the study.
He caught the grooms off guard as he stormed into the stables earlier than they’d anticipated.
He needed to ride long and hard, exhausting himself in both mind and body, to drive back his musings over Amelia to a safer distance.
As soon as he could, he vaulted into Maximus’s saddle, the stallion already dancing in anticipation and sensing his master’s tightly coiled nerves.
They exploded from the castle gates, skirting a wide berth around the village, thundering along swelling, rocky riverbanks.
Out of habit, Dorian kept in the back of his mind several landmarks, the direction of the rapidly flowing brown water, and the angle of the sun so he might find his way back.
Both he and Maximus reveled in the brutal pace, the violent, whipping wind that stole their heavy breaths, the thrilling blur as they flew past the uniquely Scottish landscape.
They rode until Maximus was lathered in sweat, frothing at the mouth in glorious exhaustion; until even Dorian’s seasoned hands cramped and his thighs were aflame with fatigue.
He held the reins in his left hand, flexing the aching joints in his right before repeating the practice on the other side.
He and Maximus were still breathing hard when they happened upon Archie playing in the castle courtyard with a group of local children.
Scottish inflections flew back and forth as they sprinted and dodged one another.
Dorian continued to walk Maximus as he watched his littlest, most formidable obstacle.
The way to win Amelia had been through her son, he’d recognized that.
Now, he needed to figure out how to move forward with winning him over.
The stuffed leather ball the children were playing with came careening in their direction. Maximus tossed his head, startled, but too exhausted to do much else. Dorian held his seat and kept a firm grip on his horse, whispering calming words and patting his slick neck.
The children halted in their pursuit when they saw the towering mass of well-dressed, wind-whipped man and horse. Archie hung a little further from the rest, eyeing Dorian warily.
“Sorry, M’Lord!” One of the bigger boys ran over and apologized for the ball crossing their path. He jogged over and, one by one, the other children followed to admire Maximus’s size.
“Who’s ’e?” a little girl with her hair done up in bright red plaits asked Archie.
His reply was low and grudging, but Dorian did not miss how he was characterized as “his mother’s friend”.
“’E’s so pretty,” said another little girl, her eyes wide as they took in his horse. “Can I pet ’im?”
Dorian turned his winning smile on her and slid from the saddle, slipping the reins over the horse’s ears.
“Normally, I would say no, but Maximus is worn out from his run.” He crouched down and looked the children in the eyes. “You must all promise me that if you are in the stables, you will not go near him without me, though. No one else, either. He can be dangerous.”
They nodded, some going so far as to cross their hearts. Dorian pulled from the pocket of his coat a couple of carrots he’d swiped from a bucket in the stables and, after snapping them into smaller pieces, showed the children one by one how to hold their palms flat when they fed him the treats.
“She’s so beautiful,” said the girl as she stroked Maximus’s silver forelock.
One of the bigger boys chimed in, saying, “’E ain’t no lass—look a’ ’is bollocks.”
Dorian tried not to laugh at the candidness of the comment. Instead, he turned his attention to Archie, who hadn’t moved one inch closer the entire time, despite all of his playmates having abandoned him for the horse.
Dorian held out the last morsel of carrot to him, knowing that when he’d been his age, the only thing he’d longed to do (besides skip Latin lessons) was ride his horse.
“Come on. There’s one more for you.” Quickly, Archie shook his head and retreated a step.
“What is the matter?” Dorian tried to coax the boy nearer with a wiggle of his fingers, but it only sent him back further.
The perceptive older boy from earlier chimed in, saying, “That willna do any good. He’s afraid of horses.”
He knew, with sudden, terrible clarity, just as to why that was.
The boy’s father had been killed in a terrible riding accident.
Archie’s cheeks flushed bright pink; he spun on his heel and bolted. Dorian uttered a curse and hailed a groom from across the courtyard to take Maximus’s reins so he could follow Archie.
Terrifying and mortifying the boy was not a way to win his favor; not to mention, Dorian felt like an ass.
How could he have forgotten such a thing?
The London tabloids had recounted the tragic news that Amelia’s husband, Archie’s father, had broken his neck after his horse had spooked on a hunt.
Of course, the lad would be wary of horses after such a loss.
Dorian hurried along through the kitchen entrance, startling the cook and some poor maids as he followed the small figure up the servants’ stairs.
The boy didn’t turn when Dorian called his name, so he increased his pace.
Archie might have had a head start and better knowledge of the castle, but Dorian had speed and length of stride on his side.
He caught Archie just as he ducked through a doorway on the third floor.
The boy wriggled and protested, but Dorian held fast to his collar.
“Let me go, ya cur!” Archie tried to use his best, most commanding laird voice, his burr thickening remarkably, but Dorian was undeterred.
“I wish to speak with you,” he said calmly.
When he crouched down and met the child’s angry glare, he was surprised to find that tears glistened in the boy’s bright green eyes.
Dorian slowly released Archie’s collar once he stopped thrashing, and he half expected him to bolt, but he did not.
“I am truly sorry about what happened. It wasn’t my intention to embarrass you in front of your playmates—”
“You didna’—did not—embarrass me,” the boy grumbled, swiping at his nose.
“—or to inadvertently force you to recall…unpleasant memories.” He gave the boy a pointed look until he turned his head. “I was simply trying to be your friend.”
“Why would you do that?” Archie snapped.
“Because…” Dorian paused, not anticipating having to explain himself, “because your mother and I were once very good friends. Then, we had a falling-out of sorts, and we did not speak for a very long time. I am here trying to…make right a wrong that happened even before you were born.”
The boy finally met his eyes. “What happened?”
“That is rather complicated and unimportant at this time.”
“So, what does being my friend have to do with anything?”
“Because your mother loves you dearly, and I would like to be kind to everyone she loves. It is a lot easier to do with a friend. So,” Dorian held out his hand to the boy, “will you be my friend, then? You would be doing me a great favor.” Especially if you no longer see me as a threat, he added silently.
As the boy gripped his hand, however, Dorian experienced a jolt of guilt for intending to use a child’s goodwill with untoward intentions.
He also felt unsure about which wrong he was now trying to right.
Was he still exacting his revenge and attempting to excise Amelia from his life, or was he trying to reclaim what he’d once lost to foolishness?
The boy ran off down the hall, and Dorian stood, watching his small frame retreat. He didn’t know if the interaction could be qualified as a success or a disaster.
Amelia stepped out of her hiding place to face a disheveled looking Dorian. She might have believed his conversation with Archie to be contrived for her hearing had he not looked so surprised and abashed by her appearance.
“How long have you been there?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Long enough.” She had to clear her throat before speaking again, more moved by the candid scene than she’d realized. She approached Dorian and straightened his windblown lapel. “Went for a ride, did you?” she asked gently, looking up into his handsome face.
“Yes. And I made the mistake of trying to convince Archie to go near Maximus.”