brother disapproves,’ Zach said as they rode away, Sancho following behind at a trot.
They crossed over the same little brook and headed towards the copse from which Sancho had emerged.
‘He is protective. It is who he is.’ Cecily might find Leo’s attitude exasperating, but she was allowed to criticise him and be irritated by him. He was her brother.
‘My opinion of him would be less if he were not. He is a strong man and he cares for those he feels responsible for.’
‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’
His expression blanked and she cursed herself for asking such a direct question. Had she not already established that he did not respond well to curiosity? They rode along the edge of the copse until it gave way to a large hayfield. Between the edge of the uncut grass and the trees was a camp, with a tent and a cart. Standing next to the dead ashes of the fire was Myrtle, tail wagging so hard she was almost wriggling with joy.
‘Why is Myrtle here? We left her at the stables.’
‘She would not remain there on her own. This is her home. She will always return.’ Zach turned his head and caught Cecily’s eye. ‘It is where she feels safe, where she is loved.’
Cecily’s heart squeezed at Zach’s words. Home. That is exactly how she felt about her home and her family—safe and loved. But hankering over the past was pointless. She accepted that now. Everything had changed and she was determined to find her new place in the world.
Zach leapt from his horse’s back and crouched down to fondle the dog, murmuring, his voice too quiet for Cecily to make out his words. Then he sprang once more on to his horse and Myrtle settled down, her head on her outstretched paws, and heaved a sigh. As they rode away, Cecily looked back, seeing that the donkey, too, remained at the camp, cropping at the grass.
‘What did you say to Myrtle?’
He sent her a sharp glance. ‘You think it odd that I talk to her?’
She did, a bit. But she did not say so. ‘I have never had a pet dog. Rosalind—the Duchess—she has a dog. He is huge, almost up to my waist, and she talks to him all the time. He lives with us now.’
‘You are a good horsewoman. Do you not talk to your horse?’
‘Not really. Only if they need calming down.’
He shook his head. ‘I find that odd.’
‘Is it because you live alone, do you think?’
He laughed, tilting his head to the sky and breathing deeply, as he had the other night. ‘I am not lonely, if that is what you wish to know. I am content. I enjoy this life and being outdoors. I love nature. I am a fortunate man.’
A picture of his campsite formed in her head. He had so little, compared to the riches and the opulence she and her family took for granted: the huge, sprawling Cheriton Abbey in Devonshire, minor estates scattered around the country, each one of them with a house at least as big as Stourwell Court, and a full contingent of staff to keep them in readiness for family visits, plus a magnificent town house in Grosvenor Square in London. And yet he was content, and she...she...
I have done nothing but complain. Poor little me: my brother got married and I am no longer the mistress of the Abbey and all his other properties.
Zach’s attitude was humbling.
‘You are fortunate to be so content. I hope to be as settled and as happy as you in the future.’
‘True contentment comes from following your heart and in appreciating what you have, not hankering after that which you have not.’
She pondered his words. ‘That is true, but only to an extent.’
She pictured Leo’s bleak expression as she had ridden away with Zach. She knew her brother well enough to know he used his anger to mask his concern, as well as any hint of weakness, and she also knew she had upset him by following her own inclination—her heart—and returning to the Court with Zach rather than with Leo.
‘What if, by following your heart, you cause pain to someone you love?’
Zach’s mouth twitched. ‘Then you have a choice to make about which is more important to you.’
‘Mayhap that is why you are so content. You only have yourself to please.’
Pain flashed across his face and was as quickly gone.
‘What is it?’
‘My mother—she died last summer.’ He raised his hand to the diamond in his ear.
She touched his arm. ‘I am sorry. Is...is your earring a traditional Romany adornment?’ Her fascination with that glinting diamond prompted her to risk the question.
‘It was part of a wedding gift from my father to my mother. She had to sell her jewellery after he died.’ Bitterness lit his eyes. ‘But she gave me the ring and I had the stone made into this.’
Diamonds? Cecily hid her surprise that a Romany could lavish such an expensive gift upon his bride, but she felt the poignancy that Zach’s mother had been forced to part with such a treasured gift. ‘It is a lovely memento of both of them.’
They had arrived back at the stable yard and a groom emerged to take charge of the horses.
‘I shall see you later,’ said Zach after he had helped Cecily to the ground. His dark gaze roamed her face, then drifted down her body, conjuring heat wherever it lingered. Her corset grew tight, restricting her lungs. ‘I am invited to dinner. I refused the invitation last night, but I shall accept tonight.’
The news pleased her. She longed to learn more about this enigmatic man and watching him interact with the others at Stourwell Court would hopefully allow her to do so.
‘Are you going to treat Thea’s mare now?’
‘Star? Yes, I am.’
‘I should like to watch.’
He held her gaze. ‘Your brother will not approve.’
She smiled. ‘But my heart is telling me I wish to see how you help her even though my head tells me I ought to return to the house.’
* * *
And he could not argue with that, because it was how he had encouraged her to think. Zach shook his head at her, smiling, then strode into the stable, where Star was tethered in a large pen at the far end, rather than in one of the stalls. The heels of Lady Perfect’s boots rang on the cobbled floor as she followed behind.
‘Wait outside,’ he said, hoping she would not chatter and distract him while he worked.
He stripped off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and entered the pen, where he was joined by Pritchard, the head man, and an older groom called Malky, who went to the mare’s head to hold her. Zach stripped the blanket from her back and brushed away the wisps of straw, listening to the low murmur of Malky’s
