She already was. Falling toward him, and she’d lost balance long ago. She swallowed hard, pushed the truth away. “So am I a new performer, then?”
“No. The audiences of London can’t have you.”
She did not dare meet his eyes to see his unspoken claim. London could not have her because she belonged to him alone. Her performances were for an audience of one.
His possessiveness should rile her to rage, should tie her good humor in knots and birth demands to leave her be, give her space, know his place in her bed and nowhere else.
But oh, she felt none of those things. No one had ever been jealous of her attention. No one had ever wanted her for herself. She’d been a title, a connection, a body to bear children. She’d been a confidante and cousin, a mother and unseen observer.
But he saw her, and he wanted her for no other reason than that. And how it sliced her deep and wide, a wound she’d never be able to knit shut. Because she wanted him, too, felt … lost to him entirely.
Lost to a man who did more than kneel atop horses. He did the somersaults she joked about. He rode the horse at a madman’s pace, not the insignificant trot that carried her in an almost motionless circle around the arena. He lived fully as she wished to, but therein lie the unavoidable danger, the dangerous truth. One she felt more fully now than ever atop a horse.
Falling bodies, broken bones.
She was lost to him. If he fell, hard and fast from his horse one night, she would fall, too; would grieve harder and longer than she had before—a wounded widow, not a wicked one. And what of Izzy and Bridget then? Their hearts would break alongside hers. A second papa, gone. What was she willing to sacrifice to keep those hearts whole?
Twelve
Freddy was flawless. A sharp realization glimpsed in the very instant she’d stood to full height atop the mare’s back.
No. Not true. He’d known it from the first moment he laid eyes on her in that crumbling abbey Max dared to call a house. He’d thought her flawless, then, but he’d had no idea how right he was. No mere quip, no shallow flattery. God’s truth.
But now more than that, too. She was the keeper of his heart, the lover he wanted forever.
Damn it all. She did not want a forever. She wanted a frenzy, a heated, heightened now sort of thing that sizzled a quick death. Wrong. Forever would be better, hotter. Forever would be flawless.
But he could not fall into complete despondence when one hope-breathed flame still flickered. She said she didn’t want forever, but she wanted him. That he knew, and she wanted him badly enough to promise him she’d seek out no other lover. That kept the anguished, jealous monster in his gut satisfied. For the time being.
“What should I do now?” Her voice wavered from up high.
“One lap around the ring, then you can come down.”
A tight nod. “I can do this.” Worry, and a hint of fear made her words spiky things.
She needed a distraction. “Of course you can. Perhaps you could stand on one leg. For a challenge.”
“No. Thank you.”
“Well, then, you could always attempt to stand on your head.”
She laughed, and then she cried out, wobbled, righted herself as he wrapped an arm around the backs of her legs to help her find her balance.
“Do not amuse me so while I am up here.” A lecturing tone, gentle as a candle flickering. Better.
“Do you know that it’s actually easier to remain atop the horse and balance if you’re going faster?”
She snorted. “I do not know that, and I do not believe you.”
“I’m a master in this situation, the expert instructor. You should believe me. It’s absolutely true, and I’ll tell you why. It’s called centripetal force. When the horse is riding fast around the ring, the gravity changes, pulls you toward a center that helps you balance.”
“Sounds like magic to me.”
“It is a bit. Riding is very much like magic.”
“You make it look so.”
It felt so. Yet he contemplated an end to it. Not a hard end, not a never again. No. He contemplated a signature on a bit of paper, reduction of rides around the arena every week. He contemplated a new life as Garrison’s business partner. With a family at his side.
