Page 72 of Courage, Dear Heart

I step back, trying to tamper the growing desire. Jamie watching us with a curious expression hits me like a splash of cold water. “There you go,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel.

She glances down at me, her lips curved into a small, almost shy smile. “Thanks, Elliott.”

I nod, trying to shake off the lingering heat from the brief but electrifying contact. Turning to my own horse, I adjust the stirrups, taking a moment to exhale the tension still coiling in my chest.

The ride hasn’t even started, but I already know I’ll have a hard time trying to keep my focus anywhere but on her.

Jillian pats the mare’s neck. “What’s your horse’s name?”

“This is Mr. Darcy.”

She laughs. “I love that!Pride and Prejudiceis one of my favorite books.”

“Yeah? Which movie version is your favorite?”

Her eyes widen. “You have a favorite movie version ofPride and Prejudice?”

I nudge my gelding into a walk. Jillian and Jamie keep the slow pace with me. “Doesn’t everybody?”

She shakes her head. “Wow, it’s like you fell out of a book yourself,” she murmurs low as if she didn’t intend for me to hear.

“So book boyfriend material, you say.”

She blushes a deep pink. “What do you know about book boyfriends?”

“I have two sisters. Do you have any idea how many times they drag me to a bookstore? And you still haven’t answered me. Which movie version?”

“My favorite is the version with Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen. Yours?”

“Well, if you ask me in front of Grace, I’ll swear it’s the BBC version with Colin Firth, but since she’s not here, I agree with you. But if you tell her, I’ll deny it.”

She laughs. “Is that so? Grace would be mad if she thought you like the newer version better?”

“Oh, not mad. She’d spend the next two hours comparing every detail between the two movies, the book, and give you a hundred reasons why the version with Colin Firth is better. And swear it has nothing to do with her lifelong crush on him.”

She’s laughing so hard now, she has to hold on to the pommel. I reach over and put a hand on her hip to steady her. “Don’t fall off before we even leave the stables.”

I pull my hand away and coax Mr. Darcy to the gate, where Jamie is patiently waiting for us, a curious look in his eyes.

We exit the paddock with Jamie between us. Buttercup’s reins in his hands. I trust the mare to stay steady. She doesn’t spook easily and is sure-footed. “What do you think, Jamie? Are you ready to go down the trail?”

He nods eagerly. I look at Jillian for confirmation that it’s okay for him to hold the reins, and she nods as well.

“Okay then, let’s go, and remember, we want to go nice and easy and slow. So no racing yet.” Not that Buttercup would. I’ve never met a horse more determined to do things at her own pace, and her pace knows only one speed: slow.

We make our way around the house and wave to Grace when we pass the porch where she’s taking a catnap in the hammock. Jamie waves at her, confident and more enthusiastic than ever. We go up the same trail we walked before. Nero trails behind us for a few minutes and then steps ahead, leading our slow canter. He’s vigilant and looking over his shoulder, guarding us from imaginary predators.

The breeze blows Jillian’s hair on her face, and I wish I could reach over and tuck it behind her ear, wrap my hand around her neck and bring her face up to mine. I want to kiss her so badly it hurts. And I think she might feel the same way about me if the look she gives when she thinks I’m not paying attention can be trusted.

I’m a goner for this woman. I want her so badly, but I can’t move fast. She’ll spook like a green filly. I have to move at Buttercup’s pace, even if the anticipation is set to kill me. Because for Jillian, I’d literally do anything.

THIRTY-NINE

Jillian

After dinner,Grace shoos us out, stating she’ll meet us in a few minutes. Elliott walks us to the back of the house, where a large stone firepit is ready to be lit. Logs piled nearby. Comfortable chairs surrounding it. The sky turning pink and purple and indigo as the sun sets. The scene unfolds under the soundtrack of thousands of insects chirping and singing. The air is fresh and pine-scented.

Elliott lights up some dry pine needles and they quickly catch, setting the kindling and logs ablaze. It’s not a cold night, but it cooled down several degrees as the sun disappears behind the tall trees.

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