face, her blue eyes blazed like sapphires. She was tapping one booted foot upon the cobblestones with impatience.
“I am ready to go,” she said again. “How long does it take that silly stable boy to saddle two horses?”
“If you think he’s so silly, I wonder that you feel safe riding out with him,” I couldn’t quite resist saying, and saw the way she flushed.
“Thank you for your concern,” she said tartly.
She continued to tap her foot as the minutes went by, the tempo accelerating the longer we stood in the courtyard. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, shooting anxious glances toward the stable.
She is nervous,
I realized suddenly.
Before I had time to consider what that might mean, Raoul appeared, leading two horses. One, the tall black he preferred now that he’d given the dappledgray to Niccolo, and a mare the color of honey Both were neatly saddled, their coats brushed to a glossy shine. He’d brushed his own hair, as well, I noticed.
Anastasia’s color rose a little higher, but her voice stayed as sharp as always.
“There you are. It’s about time.”
For a fraction of a second, I thought Raoul would answer back. I could almost see him bite the inside of one cheek to hold in the smart reply. Then, in a move so unexpected both Anastasia and I blinked, he sketched a quick but perfectly acceptable bow.
“I am at your service, lady” he said, as he straightened up. And then he smiled. Anastasia caught her breath with an audible sound. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. “I’m ready to go whenever you are,” Raoul went on sweetly. “But perhaps you’ve changed your mind.”
I bit the inside of my own cheek now, for it seemed to me I understood. He was going to drive Anastasia mad with kindness. Be so attentive she couldn’t possibly complain.
I saw her give a little shake, as if snapping herself out of a dream. “Of course I haven’t changed my mind,” she said. “Help me to mount.”
Without a backward glance, she began to march smartly toward the riding block, the small raised platform a lady might use to mount her horse more easily. I expected Raoul to bring the mare to her. He stayed right where he was. When she realized he wasn’t moving, Anastasia stopped and turnedaround. She put her hands on her hips and glared. His face expressionless, Raoul gazed back.
He is daring her to come to him,
I realized.
At first it seemed she wouldn’t do it. Then, with a lift of her chin, Anastasia took up the challenge. She closed the distance between them with brisk, rapid steps. Raoul bent at the waist, and linked his hands together to form a stirrup. Anastasia placed the toe of her soft leather riding boot between his hands, rested one of her own hands on Raoul’s shoulder for balance.
In the next moment, Raoul straightened, and, graceful as a bird, Anastasia went flying upward. She landed in the saddle in a flurry of dark blue skirts. She hooked one knee over the pommel on her lady’s riding saddle, gathered the reins into her gloved hands.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You are more than welcome.”
I stared, not sure which of them had astonished me more. It was the first time I had heard Anastasia say thank you for anything. Raoul sounded polite as a lord. Then, as if to make absolutely certain it was clear who was in charge, Anastasia rapped her heels smartly against the mares sides, putting her in motion. Raoul had to step back quickly to avoid being stomped on.
“I don’t like to be kept waiting,” Anastasia announced, even as Raoul was vaulting into his own saddle. “Do try to keep up.”
They were gone the whole afternoon, as the weather changed, turning thick and sultry and still, a ringof clouds creeping in from the edges of the sky.
“Thunderstorm weather,” Susanne announced with a click of her tongue. “You mark my words, there’ll be a storm before the night
is
out.”
By late afternoon I was fractious and edgy, as if my clothes had
“I am ready to go,” she said again. “How long does it take that silly stable boy to saddle two horses?”
“If you think he’s so silly, I wonder that you feel safe riding out with him,” I couldn’t quite resist saying, and saw the way she flushed.
“Thank you for your concern,” she said tartly.
She continued to tap her foot as the minutes went by, the tempo accelerating the longer we stood in the courtyard. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, shooting anxious glances toward the stable.
She is nervous,
I realized suddenly.
Before I had time to consider what that might mean, Raoul appeared, leading two horses. One, the tall black he preferred now that he’d given the dappledgray to Niccolo, and a mare the color of honey Both were neatly saddled, their coats brushed to a glossy shine. He’d brushed his own hair, as well, I noticed.
Anastasia’s color rose a little higher, but her voice stayed as sharp as always.
“There you are. It’s about time.”
For a fraction of a second, I thought Raoul would answer back. I could almost see him bite the inside of one cheek to hold in the smart reply. Then, in a move so unexpected both Anastasia and I blinked, he sketched a quick but perfectly acceptable bow.
“I am at your service, lady” he said, as he straightened up. And then he smiled. Anastasia caught her breath with an audible sound. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. “I’m ready to go whenever you are,” Raoul went on sweetly. “But perhaps you’ve changed your mind.”
I bit the inside of my own cheek now, for it seemed to me I understood. He was going to drive Anastasia mad with kindness. Be so attentive she couldn’t possibly complain.
I saw her give a little shake, as if snapping herself out of a dream. “Of course I haven’t changed my mind,” she said. “Help me to mount.”
Without a backward glance, she began to march smartly toward the riding block, the small raised platform a lady might use to mount her horse more easily. I expected Raoul to bring the mare to her. He stayed right where he was. When she realized he wasn’t moving, Anastasia stopped and turnedaround. She put her hands on her hips and glared. His face expressionless, Raoul gazed back.
He is daring her to come to him,
I realized.
At first it seemed she wouldn’t do it. Then, with a lift of her chin, Anastasia took up the challenge. She closed the distance between them with brisk, rapid steps. Raoul bent at the waist, and linked his hands together to form a stirrup. Anastasia placed the toe of her soft leather riding boot between his hands, rested one of her own hands on Raoul’s shoulder for balance.
In the next moment, Raoul straightened, and, graceful as a bird, Anastasia went flying upward. She landed in the saddle in a flurry of dark blue skirts. She hooked one knee over the pommel on her lady’s riding saddle, gathered the reins into her gloved hands.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You are more than welcome.”
I stared, not sure which of them had astonished me more. It was the first time I had heard Anastasia say thank you for anything. Raoul sounded polite as a lord. Then, as if to make absolutely certain it was clear who was in charge, Anastasia rapped her heels smartly against the mares sides, putting her in motion. Raoul had to step back quickly to avoid being stomped on.
“I don’t like to be kept waiting,” Anastasia announced, even as Raoul was vaulting into his own saddle. “Do try to keep up.”
They were gone the whole afternoon, as the weather changed, turning thick and sultry and still, a ringof clouds creeping in from the edges of the sky.
“Thunderstorm weather,” Susanne announced with a click of her tongue. “You mark my words, there’ll be a storm before the night
is
out.”
By late afternoon I was fractious and edgy, as if my clothes had
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