Always a Maiden (The Belles of Beak Street #5)(39)

“Why don’t you ride?” he asked as if he couldn’t understand.

“Because of this.” She thrust out her maimed arm.

“Because of your…arm?” he whispered. His hand circled her arm, his thumb brushing the scar. “What happened?”

“One of those murderous beasts threw me,” she said with more anger than she’d intended. She wrenched her arm out of his grip. The horse had been trying to kill her, and if she hadn’t rolled away, it might have succeeded. “And then it kicked me.”

“Hush, darling,” he whispered while turning her to face him. The brush of her body against his solid chest did strange things to her. He folded his arms around her, but he was looking up at her house. “We should discuss this away from here. You don’t have to ride if you don’t want to.” He twisted to look around but kept her folded against him. He rubbed her back with one hand.

She just wanted to stay there with him cradling her. If she kept her nose against his chest, she could pretend the horses weren’t there. She felt foolish. Her control was slipping and that shamed her as much as her certainty that horses were treacherous dangerous beasts.

“I thought when you said you enjoyed riding your pony, that you might enjoy a gallop—never mind. I can probably find a hackney…somewhere.” But he couldn’t keep the doubt from his voice.

If they were leaving the theatre, a hackney might be waiting for a fare. But finding one this late in a part of town where people drove their own carriages would be nigh on impossible.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She had told him she enjoyed riding her pony, but horses were a different matter.

“Here.” He pulled her to the inside of the walkway and unlashed the horses. He connected a long leather strap between their bridles. “We can walk,” he said. “I’ll lead the horses.”

“Where?” she asked.

“I arranged for us to go to Hyde Park and ride on Rotten Row,” he said a rueful tone to his voice. Then with one arm around her and his other hand on the nearest bridle, he started them forward.

The horses so near made her tense and her legs felt rickety, but he was between her and the animals.

She tilted to the side and looked up at him. “But the park is closed at this time of night.”

“It only took a small bribe.” He smiled. “The moon is full, the night is pleasant, it seemed like a good time to run horses. I wasn’t certain of your skill, so I found a gentle mare for you to ride.” There was something in his voice that almost seemed to indicate he wouldn’t hurt her. “On the other hand, I do have a hearty basket of food.”

Was he worried about her eating? “I’m not on bread and water any longer.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I feared you were still locked away on slim rations.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, so she said nothing.

The horses plodded along beside them, the hoofs clomping on the cobblestones. Each click sent a new jolt through her, but they were acting docile enough. Although she half believed they would attack if given a chance.

Evan continued to rub her back, soothingly. The heat his touch provoked, clashed with the icy tendrils of fear until she felt like a jumble of raw nerves.

He startled her when he spoke. “So I gather your arm was broken when the horse tossed you. How old were you?”

“Eight,” she answered. “My father had got rid of my pony and said it was time to ride horses.” He hadn’t care that she had been small for her age and that being atop a horse felt like being perched on the highest tower of the tallest castle to her. Never mind, that she wasn’t strong enough to control a horse if it had a mind to go elsewhere. “It was only my third time of being on a horse. I asked for my pony back, but my father said I was too old to ride a pony.”

“And you haven’t ridden since?”

“Only once when I couldn’t avoid it, and it didn’t go well. I know it is stupid to be afraid of horses,” she said. The shame of admitting it burned in her cheeks.

“Shh,” he responded. “There are vicious horses. Although they are rare. Often they are the result of mistreatment. The one that threw you might have had an aversion to humans. Or sometimes a horse has a sore mouth and is reacting to pain or the person it perceives causing that pain.”

That was the first time she could remember anyone telling her it might have been the horse’s fault. She had been told again and again that the horse throwing her was her failure. If she couldn’t manage a horse, she had no business riding. It had been another way to keep her trapped inside and more of her time spent perfecting ladylike pursuits. She stopped walking. “Really? Mother said it was my fault I was thrown.”

“Did she see it happen?”

“No. The groom that was with me said he didn’t really see either. The horse took off even though I was pulling hard on the reins.”

“So you weren’t trying to take a fence?” he questioned.

“Of course not. I didn’t want to do more than a trot.”

“It sounds to me as if you were put on a horse that was too much for a little girl,” Evan’s voice tightened. “If you enjoyed riding a pony, riding a horse should have been enjoyable, too.”

“I didn’t enjoy breaking my arm.”