right.
Knowing whom he’d find, he turned his head.
Sophia had looked like a laundry heap before she’d taken Equinox out. Now she resembled a discarded pile of rags. He wasn’t at fault for that part, but the stark paleness of her face and the wide pain-filled eyes could be laid at his feet.
Guilt and shame kicked him with the force of an angry plow horse. He ran both hands across his face, pressing hard around his eyes, as if that would somehow release the pressure building inside him. “I didn’t mean that.”
“I should hope not,” Bianca scoffed.
“You”—Aaron pointed a finger at Bianca—“stay out of this. Until you marry the owner of this stable or he absolves me of my responsibilities, which horses you ride is up to me, and I say no.” He turned his back on the woman who’d become the annoying younger sister he’d never wanted and faced the woman currently wreaking havoc on his life.
Was there any apology to fix what he just said? Perhaps if he showed her he did indeed care for her well-being. “I have a safe place for both you and Rhiannon to stay. Fitzroy as well, if he’s so inclined.” He looked about the stable. “I’ll take you there when you’re ready to leave.”
Sophia didn’t say anything.
That was all the evidence he needed to prove she hadn’t accepted his apology. Though a little distance between them after the events of yesterday was a good thing, this wasn’t how he’d wanted to achieve it.
He liked Sophia, and that was dangerous. When he let himself stop thinking about everything that could go wrong, he enjoyed their conversations. He told her things he didn’t even tell Graham and Oliver. If he didn’t keep a rein on that, it would run away from him and leave him somewhere he’d never wanted to be.
He’d made promises he needed to keep. Just because he’d made them to himself didn’t make them any less binding, and he couldn’t let the confusion one woman inspired overshadow decisions made over years of sober thinking.
“I’ve finished the tasks you gave me, and Jonas is brushing Equinox down. Unless you’ve something else?” She tipped her chin up, and if he wasn’t mistaken, it quivered slightly.
He couldn’t take her to Trent’s house now. She’d spend the afternoon crying into her pillow. If they did more training, maybe she’d realize he believed in her, or at least in her abilities.
“Let’s get you another horse saddled. We need to make sure you don’t fall off in your next race.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t fall off in the first one.”
“Nor were you secure in the saddle.”
Her lips pressed tightly together, but she didn’t correct him.
He took her and the horse to one of the fenced-off areas of pasture beyond the stable. This training could quite possibly be an utter disaster, and they didn’t need an audience. She knew how to ride but didn’t know racing. He knew racing but not the first thing about riding aside.
For the next hour, she did whatever he asked but said nothing in return. There were times in the past week he’d have welcomed the silence, but now he found himself prodding her, trying to break through the wall she’d put in place.
She didn’t break. She focused on staying upright in the saddle as the horse ran through a curve. Sometimes she managed well, other times she ended up half bent over the horse’s neck. Pieces of his advice were useless since the sidesaddle situated her farther back on the horse’s back than he would have been.
After one attempt Sophia winced and she pressed a hand to her side. It was only for a moment, but it was enough to swell Aaron’s guilt. If she was in pain, she wouldn’t believe he wanted her to remain unhurt. “That’s enough for today.”
She gave a nod and pulled the horse to a stop. Then she kicked her foot free of the stirrup and jumped down before he could reach her side.
“I was coming to help you,” Aaron said with a frown.
“Afraid for my well-being?” Sophia bit out.
“As a matter of fact, yes, I am.” He sighed and placed a hand on the horse’s neck, moving to the opposite side of the horse so he could see her clearly without invading her space. “I didn’t mean what I said, Sophia.”
“You always mean what you say.” She gave him a sad smile. “That’s why you say so little.”
“I don’t wish you ill.”
“That’s rather