He bowed, still sitting on his horse. ‘My dearest wish is to serve you.’
Frederica turned to Jim, thanking him, and sending him home. Then she pulled the reins of her horse to angle her mare next to his stallion. ‘Shall we race?’
Mark pointed to a fence a couple of hundred yards away. ‘First to the fence?’
‘First over the fence,’ she said, kicking her heels into the horse’s flank and yelling, ‘Giddyap.’
Frederica did not turn her head to see if he was following. She knew he was. Her grey was a beautiful animal, but it was not in the same class as Sir Alexander’s stallion. If she had any hope of winning, she could not lose focus for a moment. She heard the other horse’s footfalls behind her. Spurring on her own mount, she let her head fall back and wind rush over her face. It was moments like this where she felt truly free.
Weightless.
‘Come on,’ she urged her grey as they approached the fence.
Mark soared past her and over the fence, as if it were no more than a small stone in the road.
Her winded grey took the fence, but it was not a victory. ‘I suppose you won.’
He grinned at her again. Mark was truly handsome, but he was not Samuel. ‘Even after you cheated.’
‘If you’re not cheating, you’re not trying.’
Mark laughed, a merry sound. ‘Shall we return to the city?’
She nodded and they cantered together across a green field. Frederica pulled up on her reins when she saw Samuel. Her body was all shivers and tingles at the sight of him.
Mark checked the stallion as well and touched his hand with his chest. ‘He’s come to steal you away.’
‘If you knew me better, you would want me to be stolen,’ Frederica told him primly.
Laughing, he bowed his head to her and then to Samuel before riding away. Her betrothed looked furious. His full lips in a tight line. His broad shoulders back and tensed as if he was preparing for a fight. He was a stocky young man and Frederica was certain that Samuel could brawl with the best of them. Her brother Wick had taught him how to throw a nasty left hook.
‘What were you doing with Wallace?’
She gave him an arched look. ‘What do you think we were doing?’
He grimaced. ‘Riding.’
‘Nothing that naughty,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘We were racing.’
Samuel nodded, his expression still murderous. He did not seem to appreciate her euphemistic jest. ‘And did you already find bread and cheese for your midday meal?’
‘Not yet,’ she said, pointing to a farmhouse near the road to Genappe. ‘And we have yet to try the fare of La Haye Sainte.’
‘Far be it from me, to keep you from your cheese.’
She clicked her tongue and urged her mare to a walk on the road. ‘This farmhouse is not nearly as large, nor as grand, as Hougoumont.’
‘I daresay the gardens aren’t as secluded either,’ he said dryly.
It was her turn to blush. Unwittingly, her fingers stole to her lips. Samuel had kissed her so thoroughly that day that she had forgotten where she was. He had pressed his hard body against hers and she had melted into his arms. And for the first time in any kiss or embrace, she had lost all control of herself. Of her feelings. Her heart.
When they reached the white farmhouse, Samuel assisted her off her horse and tied their animals to a fence. They walked around the picturesque farm and Frederica wondered if it would be the same after the battle. There was a sort of frantic energy in the air. Like the breath of wind before a mighty gale. Would it ravage this peaceful little farm and all those around it?
After the tour, she purchased some bread and cheese from a farm worker. Samuel offered to pay, but she liked handling the money herself.
She broke off a chunk of bread and handed it to him. ‘Shall we eat like heathens?’
Samuel had already taken a large bite and he said with a full mouth, ‘Yeth.’