Winning the Gentleman (Hearts on the Heath #2) - Kristi Ann Hunter Page 0,35

“For now.”

He never asked his friends for favors, but he just might have to give in on this one and request they help him find her new employment.

The prospect twisted his stomach until he thought he might be ill.

An awkward silence covered the yard as the horse was saddled again. Since mounting blocks weren’t a training stable necessity, Aaron had to step forward to assist her into the sidesaddle. Her foot landed in his hands. Just like the day before, he could feel her bones through the thin, worn leather. It was a reminder that he could not simply turn her away.

Nor could he buy her a proper riding habit or boots. If he arranged new clothing for her, the whispers and rumors would turn cruel and any hope of her obtaining proper employment in this area would wither and die. He’d never bought a jockey a pair of boots before. He couldn’t start now.

Once she was settled, she gathered the reins and looked down at him. “What now?”

“Now we see if you can learn how to guide Equinox through his paces in a way that keeps you on course while obtaining the maximum speed. Yesterday it would have been enough for you to hold on and not die. Now we have a week to try for something better.”

Mr. Barley grunted. “Let’s get on with it, then. Yard’s not getting any less crowded. The onlookers want to see what you’ve gotten us into.”

The trainer was no longer attempting to hide his derision at the circumstances, and Aaron chanced a look up at his jockey to see how she was taking it.

Her chin was a notch higher and the lines of her neck were strained, as if her teeth were clamped together. She was the picture of determined defiance, and blast it all, but it just made her look prettier.

Eleven

Sophia had been on the back of a horse since before she could walk. She knew how they moved, how to communicate with them, how to assess different temperaments.

It was the racing of them that left her weak in the knees.

Of course, that sensation could also be attributed to the ache that radiated from her bent leg up to the middle of her back from the effort required to sit aside while the horse ran as if hounds were nipping at his heels.

Equinox was taller, faster, and all-in-all far more terrifying than the grey thoroughbred from the day before.

Not that she would tell anyone.

After an hour of experiencing how the horse would jump into a gallop at the start of the race and attempting to learn how to change her reins and leg commands to communicate with a horse incredibly focused on moving with such speed, she was grateful for the way her skirt fabric never lay quite right over her trousers. It prevented anyone from seeing the way her legs trembled when she dismounted.

Unfortunately, she had nothing to disguise her tongue.

“That was more difficult than I anticipated,” she blurted out as she braced her feet on solid ground.

There was no immediate response. Perhaps she’d said it low enough that no one other than the horse had heard?

She glanced sideways at Mr. Barley’s stunned face. Mr. Whitworth’s expression was so blank that it had to be deliberate.

They’d heard.

She lifted her chin, folded one hand around the reins, and buried the other in Equinox’s mane. “All told, I think I did sufficiently well.”

Mr. Barley grunted.

Mr. Whitworth said nothing.

The stable lad who appeared to collect the horse avoided her eyes entirely.

She curled her hand tighter around the reins, hoping the bite of leather into her palm would remind her to keep her mouth shut.

It didn’t work.

“I didn’t fall out of the saddle, which is a feat you might not fully appreciate, given you’ve likely never ridden aside. Fortunately, the saddle didn’t slip. I admit that was somewhat of a concern.”

Stop talking, Sophia.

“There were several onlookers, I’m sure you noticed. Some were impressed. One man remarked on my fine seat.”

Mr. Barley spluttered, Mr. Whitworth blushed, and Sophia realized the man’s comment hadn’t necessarily been complimentary. Heat spread over her cheeks, and she cursed her fair skin and lack of makeup.

The stable boy tried to tug the reins from her hand, but Sophia thought she’d be better off biting the leather than relinquishing it. Anything to stop herself from talking.

“I need the horse, miss,” the lad said quietly.

Sophia’s cheeks flamed more as she pried her fingers loose and crossed her arms over her chest. Forcing herself