stable hands’ wing. She peeked inside one of the empty chambers. The room was immaculate and its furniture clean and proper. The stable hands’ quarters were larger and more comfortable than her chambers at Marston Heath!
She hurried to take a glance at some of the horses. Lifting a lantern from its hook, Alicia strode past the tack room toward the horse stalls.
“Wha’ ye doin’?” A lad, not much older than her ten-and-four-year-old sister, poked his head out from the last stall. She had apparently awakened him by the look of his tousled red hair and sleepy eyes.
“I’m inspecting the quarters,” Alicia replied. “Who are you?”
The boy warily studied her plain dress and riding boots. “Name is Penn. I’m one o’ the stable boys.” He scratched his head and frowned. “Ain’t never seen ye before.”
Alicia bit back a smile. “I’ll be working here for a while,” she said instead.
A golden horse, similar in size to her own stallion, stuck its head over the stall gate and neighed a welcome.
Without a thought, Alicia peered over the rail, eager to see the animal’s conformation. Suddenly, from the far end of the stable, came a piercing cry, followed by a chorus of whinnies from the other horses.
“What was that pitiful sound?” Alicia asked.
Penn’s freckled face paled. “Nothin’.”
“Nothing?” Alicia pushed past him and rushed toward the racket. The agonizing sound reminded her of the day, last spring, when one of her mares had broken loose and wandered along the river. Alicia had followed that fearful bellow until she found her horse, stuck in the mud, just in time to save her from a pack of wild dogs.
The racket in the stable stopped as quickly as it had began. Raising the lantern, Alicia rounded the next row of horse stalls. At the end of the wall stood another box stall, walls too high to peer over.
Alicia forgot everything as she dashed toward the cubicle, hung the lantern on a peg and lifted the stout beam that held the door fast.
“Don’t go in there, Miss,” Penn yelled. “E’ll kill ye.”
Ignoring the stableboy’s warning, Alicia stepped inside and closed the door behind her. In one corner stood a massive black stallion, trembling with fear. The horse’s piercing black eyes were ringed in white as he backed into the corner, watching her with apprehension.
Alicia gasped. Somehow she knew this Thoroughbred must be Wexton’s Bashshar. Dismissing thoughts of the man, she moved away from the stall’s door to give the animal a sense that he wasn’t cornered.
He tossed his massive head; the lantern’s soft glow emphasized the fiery glints along his satiny black coat. The stallion pawed the ground, ears laid flat against his head, teeth bared.
Alicia’s need to comfort far outweighed her fear. In a low clear sound, she began to hum, while in her mind she pictured a soothing image—wind rippling through swaying willow branches. At a safe distance from the horse, she stood still, allowing him to become accustomed to her scent. Although Alicia thought the stallion might rear, she held her ground and continued to hum.
She looked for some outward sign of his distress. Raised white scars zigzagged across the animal’s left flank, shining in the lantern light. She grimaced but leaned closer. The laceration had occurred within the month, as indicated by the proud flesh—the raised, white tissue—that formed around the wound.
She met the animal’s frightened eyes. Aye, what troubled the horse was more than his wounds. She could feel his terror and agony.
Penn peeked through a knothole in the wooden wall. Immediately, the horse caught the brief movement; his eyes again were ringed in white. Lips curling, the animal let out another terrifying scream. Alicia felt as if her body were being ripped in two. She squeezed her eyes shut, and reached to touch the animal’s neck.
Immediately, the horse’s feelings of fear and confusion shot through her—feelings so intense that she thought she had been pounded hard alongside the ear. Forcing the fervor from her mind, Alicia cleared her thoughts and braced herself. Her hand pressed gently along Bashshar’s warm, silky neck.
“Nobody dares touch the ‘orse ‘cept ‘is lordship.” Penn had opened the door a crack, keeping a respectful distance from her and the stallion.
Alicia turned to face the lad, “Then this is Bashshar?”
Penn nodded, his eyes wide.
“How did the accident happen?”
When Penn didn’t answer, she stopped petting the horse and backed up toward the door, moving very carefully so as not to frighten Bashshar.
“I asked you how the accident happened.”
“Dunno.”
“Nonsense. A valuable animal like Bashshar is injured and the stable boy knows nothing about it?” Maybe it was the severe look she gave him, but Penn finally answered her.
“Me father is Ulger, the stable master. He said fer me t’ say nothin’ ’bout that night.” Penn muttered so softly she could barely hear him.
“Why would your father give such an order?” But as soon as she’d asked, she wondered if Ulger felt intimidated by the duke. She decided on a change of tactic. “Was the duke of Wexton riding Bashshar when the injury occurred?”
Penn’s widening hazel eyes was his only answer.
“Please, Penn. If I knew how the horse was injured, it would help me understand him.” She felt guilty pressing the lad, but she needed to find out what she could. “Was the duke riding the horse when the accident occurred?” she repeated.
Penn pressed his lips into a grim line. “Yes, my lady. An’ weren’t no accident, neither.” His gaze narrowed with intended meaning.
“Surely you don’t mean that someone deliberately harmed the animal?” She studied Penn, who immediately averted his gaze.
No, Alicia thought. Penn wouldn’t dare say anything derogatory about his master, either. She took a deep breath. “Did you see—” she hesitated “—the incident?”
Penn shook his head. “Me father an’ the master brought the horse in an’—” He shook his red curls. “Never saw Bashshar like ’e was that night. Never saw any animal like ’im, thank God. When I asked what ‘appened, they told me t’ get out an’ sleep in the servants’ wing.” Penn glanced around as if he might be overheard. “After I left the stable, I couldn’t sleep thinkin’ o’ th’ poor creature’s sufferin’.”
Although she wanted to know more, Alicia didn’t want Penn telling Ulger or the duke that she was prodding the lad with questions. She’d find out what she needed to know in her own way. “Thank you, Penn. I won’t say a word to anyone about the matter.”
He gave her an uneasy look, then scratched his head.
Alicia felt the horse begin to settle. “Go back to sleep, Penn. I’d like to remain with Bashshar for a time.”
His
