Humming a little through her wide grin, she danced to the door, counted to twenty and stepped into the sunshine to corner her prey.
Collin slanted an annoyed glance at the small stable, wondering if it were clean. The cottage itself looked sturdy enough, well tended, even welcoming. He should turn around and ride away before he complicated both their lives. He dismounted instead.
The small blue door opened just as he gathered the reins to lead his mount to the stable. Collin's lungs seized for a long second, and before he could manage to take her in—or draw another breath—she skipped out the door to run to him.
Catching her midair, he swung her around and away from the shying horse, assuring himself that the thrill crashing over his body was fear for her safety.
"Welcome to our rendezvous," she cried, arching her whole body back, counting on Collin to hold her secure. She grinned up at him with flashing eyes, and he couldn't stop his answering smile.
"Rendezvous, eh? Have I stepped into the middle of an outdoor drama then?"
"Yes," she responded with a lift of her chin. "It's called Hell in a Handcart. I hope you enjoy it."
Throwing back his head, Collin laughed and let his trepidation slide away. His heart lightened, broke free of its doubts and denials, and he pulled her up, curved her into him and held her an inch away from his mouth. She closed her eyes and waited.
"I can't kiss you yet, or Samson will likely spend a week here in the yard."
She nodded, eyes still closed, just-parted lips curved in a small smile. Collin groaned and set her a safe distance away.
"Come. Tell me about this love nest while I tend the horses."
"Brinn has already been seen to," she said breezily as she swung along beside him, hand curled in his. "You brought a groom?"
"I did not!"
Her bare toes peeked beneath her skirt as she walked, catching his eye.
"Really, Collin, do you think yourself the only person who can care for a horse?"
He arched a doubtful glance at her and shook his head. "You groom your own horse?"
"Well, not every day. But I am in the stables constantly and I'm not a raging idiot."
"Perhaps not." He dodged a small, well-aimed foot.
"Come now. What other noblewoman do you know who can do that? My surprise is warranted."
She sniffed, but she wasn't truly offended. He could see not a smidgen of tension in that jaw. And he'd seen it hard as steel often enough.
"Catherine the Great."
"What?"
"Catherine the Great. A noblewoman who personally cared for her horses."
Collin stopped at the stable door to gape at her. She couldn't possibly mean. . . Then she tilted her face up and smiled with a boldness that left no question.
"She was quite the horsewom
an, I understand." She slipped into the dim of the stable, leaving him shaking his head that he'd even doubted what she meant.
"I'm beginning to think you a fraud. A tavern wench masquerading as a duke's sister."
"Not a tavern wench," she called, stroking her mare's flank. "A saucy farmer's daughter."
Collin snorted and led his horse to the far stall. He'd ridden a sturdy gelding this time, knowing Thor wouldn't stand a week in a small stable with such a lovely mare as Brinn. He saw to Samson's brushing and feeding, hiding the looks he sent toward Brinn, not wanting to reveal he was checking Alex's work. She'd done a fine job.
Alex lounged against the rough wood wall, watching his hands and explaining the arrangements she'd made.