LITMIR.BIZ

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her horse. Gifts were not permitted. He wanted to spoil her, but she wouldn’t let him. Normally he liked to keep the women he was seeing out of his daily life, but he found himself thinking about her at odd times of the day and storing up little stories so that he could relate them to her on their rides, particularly about Rupert’s attempts to master newts and his sudden liking for the circulating library, a place Kit had never known him to visit before.

      ‘There are more horses than I had considered there would be.’ She clutched her reticule to her chest and skirted around a cart. ‘I want a horse which can ride, looks good and has a reasonable temperament but where do I start? Who can I trust?’

      ‘You can trust me.’ Kit tucked her hand in his arm. ‘Accept my verdict. Despite his many faults, my father did have good eye for horse flesh and he made sure I learnt. The patience he had with horses was amazing.’

      Hattie merely raised an eyebrow at his words, but her face took on a fierce aspect. Kit shook his head. She looked like she wanted to do battle for the boy he’d once been.

      ‘I’m far too independent now to allow someone free rein.’ Her laugh sounded forced. ‘You tell me what to look for and I will see if the horse has it. What is wrong with that bay?’

      She pointed towards a showy bay which was prancing about, definitely changing the subject away from his past. Kit frowned. Normally it was his choice to keep his past separate. He had wanted to share, but she refused.

      He always said that he preferred independent women, but Hattie carried her independence that bit too far.

      ‘Can’t you see me on that horse? We would practically fly over the walls.’

      ‘You and how many other people? The owner means for that horse to be seen. It is the sort of horse that people buy for its beauty.’

      ‘I like beautiful things.’ Hattie developed a stubborn set to her jaw.

      The horse reared up and pawed the air. All Kit could see was Hattie being crushed under the hooves. He shuddered and pushed the thought away. He turned, expecting to see Hattie cowering.

      Hattie’s eyes shone with admiration.

      ‘That is a magnificent animal!’

      ‘You like untamed animals.’

      A mischievous smile lit her face. ‘They have their uses. More than I thought.’

      ‘You need a decent mount, Harriet,’ he said, leading her away from the mayhem. ‘Something reliable, but with a bit of spirit. The horse you have been riding plods, but that one would throw you as soon as look at you.’

      ‘I’m amazed you can tell that with just one glance. High spirited, but I’m sure I can ride it with a bit of practice.’

      Kit clenched his jaw. Not if he had anything to do with it. There was a balance to be struck—a horse who could keep up with Onyx, but not one which would harm Hattie.

      ‘See how she throws her head about? She hasn’t been schooled properly. Breaking your neck isn’t part of this exercise. A novice rider and an unschooled horse are a disaster waiting to happen.’

      ‘I doubt that will happen.’

      In desperation Kit gestured towards the growing throng of people. ‘See how many people are interested in her? Do you really want to compete against them?’

      She withdrew her hand from his arm. ‘I’ve no wish to pay over the odds for a horse. I want a horse with spirit, but not one that everyone else is competing for and therefore will cost me dearly.’

      ‘Practicality in all things.’

      ‘I learnt how to budget after my husband died.’ She lifted her chin with a proud tilt. ‘How can I tell the difference between a good horse and a bad one?’

      ‘Look for the little clues—how they hold the bit, place their hooves or react to small noises—as well as the big items such as the way they move or their teeth.’ He smiled down at her, preparing to be indulgent now that she’d agreed not to buy that horse.

      She nodded seriously. ‘Anything else?’

      ‘My father used to say to look at the neck. You can tell a lot about a horse by the way it carries its head. It is probably an old wives’ tale, but it has held me in good stead. There is something about a horse’s neck.’

      ‘Do you judge people in the same way?’ She turned and Kit looked at her long swanlike neck. He wondered that he had ever thought her severe and lacking in beauty. Every time he saw her, he found something else to admire. Her charms might not be as on display as some, but he found himself thinking about her at odd times of the day, remembering different features.

      ‘I like your neck.’

      She laughed, a tinkling sound that filled the air with light. He could listen to it all day. ‘I shall take that as a compliment.’

      A horse crossed in front of them and he took the opportunity to move closer than strictly proper. ‘I intend to show my appreciation later.’

      ‘Is that a promise?’

      ‘Of course and you know I never break my promises.’

      He basked in her smile, but their current arrangement was unsatisfactory. Finding odd ways to meet and conducting their affair away from prying eyes was sensible, but he wanted to spend more time with her. He tried to tell himself that it was purely physical and, once they spent time together, he’d start to see her faults. He’d become bored or she’d become demanding. Right now the key to that was finding a suitable horse.

      ‘We will find the proper horse for you today. Traipsing all over Northumberland is not going to happen. There will be more suitable horses over here.’

      ‘Kit?’ Hattie said, confused. Kit’s mood had suddenly changed. He had to understand that the horse needed to be her choice, not his. He didn’t answer, but continued to walk away from her.

      She hurried after him. ‘Where do you think you are going?’

      A scrawny boy in rags leading a chestnut horse caused him to draw up and she caught up with him. His face appeared very serious.

      ‘What is the problem?’

      ‘I spied Mr Dent and wasn’t sure if you wanted to be seen with me.’

      She breathed a sigh of relief. He was considerate. ‘Mrs Hampstead is sitting with a cup of tea and Harvey, my groom, is about ten paces behind. Everything is above board. I did think about that eventuality. Wherever you go in the Tyne Valley, you are sure to run into someone you know.’

      ‘What about the grey?’ He pointed towards where a large placid horse stood.

      Hattie peered more closely at the ragged boy and then the chestnut horse shook her head and she knew. She knew precisely what Kit meant by looking for the little things. ‘I want the chestnut unless you have an objection?’

      ‘The chestnut? But that one is a bit more spirited than I would like.’ He put his hand under her elbow. ‘You might like to take another look at the grey. I think the chestnut may have been mistreated.’

      Her eyes narrowed. ‘Why do you say that?’

      He nodded towards the boy who soothed the horse with his hand. The horse calmed instantly. ‘Instinct.’

      ‘But horses recover from ill treatment.’

      ‘Some better than others.’ He nodded. ‘It takes time and patience. The boy has a way with horses that most people can only dream about. All you have to do is watch him and see how he moves.’

      Hattie’s heart constricted at the sight of the boy’s pinched face and the way his ragged clothes hung off his frame. ‘Oh, Kit. He looks half-starved. Can you do anything? We ought to buy him a pie.’

      She fumbled in her reticule.

      ‘I

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