Ignoring him, I turned to her. “We’re taking a ride out to one of my properties, actually.”
My stomach churned with excitement and nerves for what lay ahead. I tried to limit my looking over at Felicity because it was painful. I knew I wouldn’t cross any lines, but my unwavering attraction to her was unnerving. As a married man, I shouldn’t ache to kiss another woman. I shouldn’t so instantly remember what she tasted like and yearn to taste her again. But nothing ever went as it should when it came to Felicity Dunleavy.
Her eyes widened when we arrived at the property known as Brighton House. My father’s widowed sister lived here most of the year, but she was currently in France on holiday. My aunt Mildred loved animals and kept a large farm on the estate. Her house manager, Nathaniel, happened to be a longtime friend of Sigmund’s. I knew my cousin would likely head inside to have a drink with him, and that would allow me some alone time with Felicity.
Sure enough, Nathaniel came out to greet us, and Sigmund disappeared inside. I’d introduced Felicity as a friend I’d be showing around the farm. Although Nathaniel looked confused, I was certain Sigmund would have a field day filling him in on the soap opera my life had become.
“Let’s take a tour of the farm, shall we?”
“I’d love that.” She smiled.
It was a relief to see her at least momentarily happy.
“My aunt is an animal lover, like you, and this is her farm. She’s away on holiday right now, so her staff tends to the animals. Mildred lost her husband when she was in her thirties. He died in a car accident.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“She never remarried and never had children. The animals are like her kids.”
As we walked toward the barn, excitement built in my veins.
Several ponies congregated behind a wooden partition.
As she looked over at them, Felicity beamed. “Oh my God. Is that a Shetland?”
“Yeah.” I couldn’t contain my smile.
“He looks just like Ludicrous.”
I arched my brow. “Just like him, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Look closer.”
There was nothing better than the look on her face when she realized it.
She pointed in disbelief. “That’s not him…”
“It is, Felicity.”
“What?”
I opened the gate, and she ran toward him. Felicity wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. Honestly, few things in life had brought me greater joy than witnessing this moment. I could certainly relate to the feeling of seeing someone after believing you’d never see them again in this lifetime—because that’s what I was experiencing right now.
Leaning her head against him, she said, “I don’t understand. I thought you found a farm in Rhode Island to take him? I told you to let me know if you couldn’t find a place for him. You didn’t say anything, so I assumed that was all set. How did he end up here?”
“No way was I going to leave you with that responsibility. I just never got back to you before I left. I did get that farm in Rhode Island to agree to keep him until I could transport him back to England. But that was all they were willing to do, since they didn’t have the space for him. About a month later, he was here. And he’s been here ever since.”
Ludicrous neighed.
She began to tear up as she petted him. “I told myself I wasn’t going to cry today.”
“As long as I’m not the one causing your tears, I’m good.”
“I’d considered trying to find him,” she said, running her fingers through his mane.
“Little did you know…”
“I can only imagine what your aunt must have thought when you brought him to her.”
“She was thrilled, actually, and considered it more a gift than a burden. My one condition was that I asked her to keep his name.”
Felicity looked up at me. “Well, this trip certainly has been full of surprises.”
She spent about twenty minutes with her precious pony before I suggested we take a walk; I was running out of time with her, and we needed to have our conversation.
“We’ll circle back around and spend more time with him before we leave,” I told her.
I’d arranged to have a late lunch laid out on a table overlooking the hills. We walked for a few minutes until it came into view around a bend.
When she noticed the spread, she said, “What’s all this?”
“Well, I can’t take you out for the day and not feed you. Don’t worry—I had nothing to do with cooking any of it.”
“Well, thank God for that.” She chuckled.
“Not a can of SpaghettiOs in sight.”
We fell into an easy and comfortable conversation over the meal. She told me more about the job she’d left at the law firm and why it had burned her out. As she spoke of the life she planned to lead when she returned home, I felt myself longing to be back at that serene house on the bay.