by Chloé Duval
Thank God I was usually smoother than this. Otherwise, my students probably would make short work of me.
“All right,” he said. “I’m in.” He smiled again, and once more, I felt the earth shake beneath my feet.
Chapter 12
“Ready to go for a ride?” Romaric asked when I joined him in the stables two days later.
The previous day had been fun, a real holiday lazing about and taking long walks on the beach. Upon returning to the inn, I’d caught a glimpse of Romaric brushing the horses—shirtless. I admit I got carried away fantasizing about his perfect body for a moment or two, right up until Gwenn came up to ask me if I had a little time to spare to teach her how to knit.
When she found me drooling over her brother, she abandoned for a minute all thought of learning to knit. She was much more interested in playing matchmaker. After a fruitless attempt to convince her that no, I was not in the market for romance—which was, strictly speaking, the truth—I’d simply given up and changed the subject. She’d been kind enough not to bring it up again.
We’d spent the rest of the day together knitting sweaters for penguins—or at least, I was knitting and she was watching me and learning the ropes—and chatting away about various topics such as our jobs, the horses, the bed-and-breakfast, tourists, tides, men, Port-l’Abbé, Karouac, Erwan, Amélie . . . and most definitely not mentioning Romaric. I’d told her about wanting to write the story of Amélie and Erwan, and she’d asked to read it once I was done. I said yes, of course, and I wondered what it would feel like to read the story of someone you were so close to. I verbalized this, and we discussed it for a long time before the conversation circled back to my search for Erwan . . . and Amélie. When Gwenn asked me about her, I told her everything I knew. Her opinion on her uncle’s long-lost love, I quickly realized, was more nuanced than Romaric’s. She, like me, was curious to know what exactly had happened and if there was a way to fix it. Little by little, we’d come to speak of lost moments, and life in general. And somehow, in the midst of our conversation, we slipped into what resembled friendship.
That day, I discovered that Gwenn, like her uncle and brother, was both considerate and kind. The rush of affection I had felt for her when we’d met had proved to be justified. She had charmed me just the way Erwan had. Her brother charmed me in other ways—and I still didn’t know exactly how that came to happen or what would come of it.
We’d ended the day by having dinner at Erwan’s with the entire family, and once more, the ground under my feet had shaken so hard I had been afraid it would give way.
I had gone to sleep utterly won over by this family that I was growing fonder of by the minute. Which, of course, was not going to make leaving any easier as my time with them ticked away.
After such delightful days, I was starting to dread returning to my everyday routine. I knew I was going to miss Erwan, Romaric, and Gwenn something awful when I returned to Karouac.
But for now, I’m still here, I thought, catching Romaric’s eye as he waited to lead me on what promised to be a memorable ride.
“Ready and raring to go!” I exclaimed, lifting my arms and twirling around.
“That you are,” he said, looking me up and down appreciatively. “Seems like you found everything you needed in Gwenn’s wardrobe.”
I glanced down. I had mentioned to Gwenn the day before that I didn’t have anything appropriate for riding, and she’d immediately offered to lend me an outfit. I was slightly shorter and slimmer than she was, but she’d chosen something that was “a bit snug” for her. I was wearing gray and black riding breeches with high black leather riding boots—luckily enough, we had the same shoe size—and a black cotton halter top. The finishing touch was the black riding helmet, something Gwenn had told me I could not do without.
I’d taken a long look in the mirror before coming down to join Romaric, and I had to say the effect was kind of spectacular. I felt like a female Indiana Jones, utterly confident and sexy, ready to face any adventures that fate—and Romaric—would send my way. Excitement bubbled inside me. Searching for Erwan and Amélie had been the wildest thing I’d done since . . . since I’d become a teacher, really. But today, I was anything but the professor, and I was determined that for once, I, rather than characters in my book, would live the adventures.
I looked up and shot Romaric a smile that fit my mood—daring. “It was really sweet of her to offer. I didn’t have anything appropriate and I doubt a dress would have been very convenient.”
“It suits you,” he said, still staring at me.
“Thank you.” I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. “You’re not too shabby yourself.”
Understatement of the year. Or the century.
He was gorgeous.
His brown riding breeches hugged his muscles in a very flattering manner, and his white T-shirt made a stark contrast with his tanned skin and his blue eyes. Along with the black riding boots, it was a simple outfit, but he took it to a new level and made it look sexy as hell.
As if he weren’t attractive enough.
“So what’s the plan?” I asked, trying to look more relaxed than I actually was. “Unless that’s a surprise too . . .”
His gaze snapped up to my face. “The destination is a surprise, not the journey,” he said. “How about we start with an hour’s lesson on the basics to ease you into the saddle. Remind me, have you ever ridden before?”
“A few hours a long time ago. Nothing really noteworthy.”
“Okay, we’ll take this from the top. Let me introduce you to your mount.”
I followed him into the stables. Two heads were poking out from the ten-odd stalls inside. As if he recognized me, Moonlight stretched his neck to sniff at me.
“Hey, you,” I murmured as I drew closer to stroke his nose.
He whinnied softly.
“He says he’s glad to see you again,” Romaric translated.
“So you do speak horse, then?” I teased, glancing at him from under my lashes.
“I took a course,” he assured me with a straight face. “I was pretty good, but I had to drop it in high school since they didn’t offer the class anymore.”
My lips quirked, amused by his particular brand of humor.
“And this is Belle.”
I stepped closer to finally meet the gorgeous white mare I’d only seen from afar up to now.
“Hi, Belle. Your name is perfect for you.”
I stroked her forehead wordlessly for several moments, mesmerized by her grace and beauty. She was a princess among horses. She tolerated my attention with equanimity, even seeming to enjoy it. She nuzzled my hand, probably looking for something to eat. Gwenn had advised me to bring apples, so I fed her one and gave the other to Moonlight.
“Are you trying to bribe them with apples?” Romaric asked from behind me.
From just behind me. He was so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath on my neck. An involuntary shiver ran up my back.
“Absolutely! Maybe this way I can get through this day with a minimum of bruises on my backside and without embarrassing myself in front of you!”
“Belle is a real sweetheart, so you’re not going to fall off. But should it happen, I promise not to laugh.”
“I certainly hope so!”
“Ready to go?”
“Ready when you are.”
After saddling the horses and leading them outside, he started by explaining the basics to me: how to understand a horse’s signals, Belle’s in particular, how to hold the reins and sit in the saddle so as to move with the horse, not against her. He explained how I should give commands to Belle, how I should move depending on the horse’s gait. Old memories surfaced, and I slipped back into the few skills I’d managed to attain during my beginner classes all those years ago.
When it was time to try out the theory for real, Romaric laid his hand on my waist to help me into the saddle. Of course, I immediately blushed and my heartbeat rocketed up, a
s it usually did. I didn’t know whether it was the feel of his hand on my waist, firm and gentle, the heat of his body so close to mine, his watchful gaze on my face, or maybe all three at once, but I needed all my restraint not to jump him then and there and have my wicked way with him right in the middle of the field.
Of course, I held back. That would have been disastrous. After more or less jumping into his uncle’s arms right after arriving, Romaric would think I was crazy if I did the same to him. Really, I had more self-control than that.
At least I hoped so.
Because right then I was a hairsbreadth away from giving in to my baser instincts.
If he could feel the tangled knot of my emotions, Romaric gave no sign of it, guiding me through sitting in the saddle correctly with the same cool, relaxed manner he’d had up till now. But when I was situated properly, a few endless seconds later, his hand lingered on my waist and his eyes stayed glued to mine for longer than seemed strictly necessary.
I thought I was done for.
About an hour later, Romaric estimated I was ready to ride. I wasn’t too sure about that, but I certainly was ready to follow him to the ends of the earth. He packed a picnic into Moonlight’s saddlebags and checked my seat on Belle one last time before he led the way into the forest. Our goal, he explained, was a beautiful clearing by a small pond in the middle of the forest.
“You’re going to love it. It’s safe from the tourists and full of legends and stories of star-crossed love,” he added with a smile.
Our horses walked side by side on the wide trail as Romaric started to tell the tragic tale of Lovers’ Lake, as the place was known.
According to legend, the pond had been born of the tears of a woman whose lover had been killed by her husband. He’d returned from hunting and found them in a most compromising position in the clearing where they had agreed to meet. In a rage, her husband had drawn his sword and killed his rival on the spot. Grief-stricken, the woman had fallen across her lover’s lifeless body and wept for him for days on end, her tears forming a lake that rose around her and drowned her, leaving both of their bodies to lie together for eternity at the bottom.
It was the kind of tragic love story that would have been right at home among the folklore of Brocéliande, the legendary forest of Merlin, Arthur, and the Knights of the Round Table, situated in Brittany, a bit east from here.
No need to say, I was fascinated.
As soon as he was finished, I asked Romaric whether he knew even more of these tales, after he’d told so many of them over the last few days.
“Enough for you not to be bored until we reach Lovers’ Lake!”
Completely focused on our conversation, I had ceased to pay attention to our surroundings. I had eyes only for Romaric. All I was aware of was his presence by my side, his warm and gentle voice lulling my thoughts and feeding my personal addictions—history, stories, him . . .
It happened so fast I never saw it coming, nor understood what was going on until it was over. Without any forewarning, Belle whinnied and started to stomp and buck. I barely had time to grasp onto her mane in order not to fall head over heels and break something. I cried out in surprise and fright before I caught myself and tried not to scare Belle even more. But my own panic was real. Very real indeed! Belle reared up, almost unseating me, and backed away as though something on the trail had scared her.
Millions of images sped through my mind, and for the first time, I regretted having such an overactive imagination. I could picture myself being thrown to the ground, crushed by a panicked horse, paralyzed for life and disfigured for the rest of my days. I tried to regain control by tightening my grip on Belle’s glossy mane and trying to hold on with my calves, desperately hoping my muscles would be enough to keep me in the saddle. My heart was beating fit to burst.
Fortunately, Romaric, gentleman and savior, reacted at once. He swung out of the saddle and made a grab for Belle’s reins, raising his voice to ask, “Are you all right?”
“I’m okay,” I replied shakily, though I wasn’t sure I was.
He nodded and pulled on Belle’s reins to bring her back down on four legs, speaking to her in a low, reassuring voice. In spite of my fright, I couldn’t help but admire his gentleness and calm. My heart thudded in my ears as he held the reins with one hand and stroked Belle’s nose with the other. After what seemed like an eternity, Belle seemed to settle down. She stopped stomping and I could feel her flanks rising and falling more slowly as her breathing calmed.
The whole thing couldn’t have lasted more than a minute, two tops, but it felt as though it had been hours. I felt empty, my muscles frozen.
Romaric gazed up at me, worry in his eyes. “Are you sure you’re all right? You don’t look too steady to me.”
“I am now.” I let out a long, slow breath. “Thank you. You’re my hero,” I quipped, trying to release the tension.
“I’m so sorry,” he replied, ignoring my efforts. “She’s never like this. Something must have scared her.”
“It’s fine. No harm done, right? Just a few years shaved off my life.” I laughed, putting on a brave front.
I didn’t want him to think I was weak; I was determined not to seem fragile in front of him. I wanted him to think I was strong, a true adventurer.
That was who I was supposed to be that day, right? Indiana Jones and Lara Croft would never have lost their cool over such a small thing.
He smiled and offered his hand for me to get down. In spite of my efforts to keep my dignity and not seem affected by what had just happened, my traitorous body let me down. As soon as my feet hit the ground, my knees gave way and I almost sagged. I reflexively grabbed onto Romaric’s broad shoulders, and his hands found my waist in a firm grip. Our gazes met, and when his blue eyes found mine, my heart rate went straight back up—and this time, it wasn’t out of fear.
“Whoops. You say you’re okay, but your body and eyes are not matching your words.” He frowned, obviously concerned.
“Uh, I think I’m fine now. I swear,” I added as my legs came back under control and I straightened.
This time, my muscles obeyed and I managed to stay upright, sparing myself further embarrassment. “See? No more weak knees!” I raised my eyebrows.
He let go slowly, ready to catch me if I were to wobble again.
It didn’t happen, to my great relief.
Well . . . not quite. My legs felt stiff and tired. Riding was fun, but it was tough work too.
“Okay,” he said, keeping his eyes on me. “I think we need a break anyway. Belle needs to calm down and so do you. It’s almost noon,” he added, glancing at this watch. “Why don’t we go back to the clearing we passed a few minutes ago and have our picnic there? We can ride on to the pond later if you still want to go.”
Chapter 13
“What do you think scared her?” I asked Romaric a little while later when he sat down next to me.
We’d retraced our path as he suggested, and he took care of our horses while I spread our picnic blanket next to the tiny stream curving around the edge of the clearing. It probably flowed into Lovers’ Lake, I thought. I had arranged the food then, and with a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure Romaric wasn’t watching, I’d dropped onto the blanket with about as much grace as a cow, my legs weak from riding and fright.
I may have played at being a supremely cool Lara Croft in front of Romaric, but inside, I had gotten a few years of my life scared out of me. I wasn’t quite over it yet.
“I don’t know,” he replied, gazing at the horses.
Moonlight had drawn closer to Belle and it seemed as though he wanted to comfort her, rubbing his head against hers and up her neck, their manes mingling, neighing softly. Belle pressed closer to him as though his presence soothed her. I could almost see little hearts rising above them—they seemed to love each other as deeply as two people would.
Or maybe I was just fooling myself—entirely possible, but I liked my first interpretatio
n better.
“A snake, maybe,” Romaric went on, answering the question I had all but forgotten about. “But she’ll be all right now.”
“Moonlight will take care of her.”
“In a way, yes.”
“Can horses fall in love?” I wondered as I nibbled on a cherry tomato.
I could feel the adrenaline receding and my stomach making its presence known. I was ravenous. Some people say strong emotions make you hungry—it certainly had proven true for me at least.
Romaric shrugged. “Honestly, I’m not sure. Maybe. Why not? Horses can feel deep attachment to each other. That much is true, and sometimes to the extent that they suffer from being separated. I knew a stallion that pursued a mare and refused to breed with any other than his favorite. He’d follow her around and keep her away from other stallions. Is that love? I don’t know. Maybe. It’s hard to tell, they can’t really communicate with us.”
“Belle and Moonlight seem very fond of each other.”
“They are. They’ve been living together for several years, and of course that creates a bond.”
“Have you had them long?”
“We bought them when we opened the bed-and-breakfast ten years ago. We couldn’t bear the thought of separating them, and anyway, we wanted a horse each. So we asked for a slightly larger loan than we’d planned on and bought both.”
“How old are they?”
“Twelve.”
“Is that old?” I asked him. I had no idea.
“Middle-aged. In human years, they’d be thirty-five to forty. In five or six years, we’ll retire them.”
“Oh. But you will keep them, won’t you? Or will you sell them?” I asked anxiously.
“I don’t think Gwenn has it in her to say goodbye to Belle, and I certainly couldn’t send Moonlight away. They’re part of our family now. I can’t imagine selling them just because they got old.”
“Phew! I was afraid they’d end up in an old-horse home . . .”
He laughed, and my heart practically stood still. “Not a chance. We love them way too much.”