When I reach my hand over the door, he snuffles my fingers in a friendly manner. He’s about two hands bigger than Cinnamon, but I’ve ridden big horses before. Big, spirited horses who are known to throw other riders. You just have to learn how to read them and reassure them if they get nervous.
Before I know what I’m doing, I’m opening the stall and getting in there with him. The horse snorts in greeting. Cassian must ignore him, locking him in here for his own selfish reason.
There’s a black saddle hanging up on the wall, and it’s the work of just a few minutes to saddle him up. The whole time, he stands there placidly. When I take the reins and lead him out into the yard, he follows me like a little lamb.
“I don’t know what Cassian’s so afraid of. You’re a sweetheart, aren’t you? How about I take you along South Row? You’ll enjoy that.”
I put my foot in the stirrup—which is a bit of a stretch as it’s so high, though I manage it, and mount up. There’s no one around, and we walk at a gentle pace out of the stable yard and along the road to the park.
As we near the gates, I notice that several people have stopped strolling to stare at us. He’s a beautiful and imposing horse and looks of admiration are to be expected, though the expressions of stunned incredulity are odd. As I urge the horse into a trot and he springs forward, some people pull their phones out of their pockets and start filming us. I’ve never experienced this on Cinnamon before.
We reach the bridle path, and I encourage Onyx into a canter. He races joyfully down the sawdust track, his powerful shoulders bunching and flexing. What a simply magnificent horse. We draw even more stares and are filmed by just about everyone we pass. I finish a lap of the park, and I’m heading into a second, when I hear the thunder of hooves behind me.
Glancing over my shoulder, I see Cassian on his silver Arabian, bearing down on us at a gallop. He looks furious. Ho hum. So I took the stallion without permission. It’s not like I’m stealing him.
“Cassian,” I begin in a bored drawl, as he reaches me, anticipating his overreaction. “Don’t start, okay? I’m just taking him for a ride.”
He leans over and snatches the reins from me. “Get down from that horse, now.”
“For heaven’s sake, I’m just exercising him.”
“I said get down.”
Beneath me, the black horse tenses and dances around on the spot. We were doing just fine until Cassian came along, but now, he’s is getting upset. Without the reins, I suddenly don’t feel safe. I swing my leg over and dismount. Everyone’s filming us, now. For heaven’s sake, why did he have to make us so conspicuous?
“Give me your hand, quickly.”
I glare up at him. “Why should I?”
Cassian reaches down with a growl and pulls me up behind him on Aster. I barely have time to grasp his waist and get settled before he’s clicked his tongue, and we’re racing back toward the stables, the black horse thundering along beside us.
There are still people with their phones out as we race out through the gates and back up the lane to the stables. I don’t have a good seat on Aster, so I wrap my arms tightly around Cassian. I get a first-hand experience of what his wood-chopping muscles feel like moving beneath my hands.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Cassian chants under his breath. He slows the horses to a trot as we ride through the gate.
As soon as we reach the stables, I slide from Aster’s back and brush off my hands, trying to dispel the lingering memory of how Cassian’s body felt. “Don’t you know you shouldn’t gallop a horse all the way home? It’s dangerous to bring them back all worked up.”
Cassian rounds on me, and I realize I should be more worried about his state than the horses’.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done? How could you be so stupid?”
“Don’t call me stupid. It was just a bit of exercise.”
His blue eyes flash. “Exercise! Make yourself notorious on your own time. Don’t drag me and the stables into your stunts.”
My stunts. So that’s what this is about. “Don’t tell me you believe that silly story about me getting too close to a stallion. I started that rumor myself.” I feel a pinch of loss at the memory. Wraye told that rumor to Viscount Karloff, when we were still friends, so I could dissuade one of the suitors Daddy chose for me.
“I don’t give a fuck about the stories about you. I’m talking about what you did here, now. Today.”
“Stop shouting at me! I was exercising a neglected horse. Calm down.”