Harriet and Zach arrived in the dining room together. Nick scowled and Zach grinned, while Harriet was oblivious to the undercurrents and sniffed appreciatively at the food on the sideboard before loading her plate.
After eating a hearty breakfast, Harriet requested fresh carrots and wrapped them in a cloth in her coat pocket. Nick arranged for his own little cloth-wrapped bundles of bread and cheese and tucked them into various pockets of his greatcoat. Great invention, pockets.
Father Miguel arrived, along with a footman bearing a picnic lunch in a knapsack as well as skins of wine and water. “So you will not have to stop as often or as long,” he explained. He folded his hands. “I confess, after so many years, I am sad to see Tesoro go,” the priest said. “But I am greatly relieved to know he will be safe, appreciated, and treated with the care he deserves.”
“Oh, he will be, Father,” Zach said. “He will be.”
“You’re sounding rather possessive about something that does not belong to you,” Nick observed.
“That can be remedied,” Zach said, with a wink at Harriet.
She was adjusting the bundle of carrots in her pocket and missed it.
Nick narrowed his eyes but followed Father Miguel out to the stable without pursuing the comment.
Grooms had already saddled Tesoro when they arrived, as well as their rented horses. Senhor Perez was speaking softly to Tesoro, stroking his neck. To let him have a private farewell with the horse he’d spent so much time training, Nick and the others went to the office. They made quick business of retrieving the ledger and purse and tucking them into Nick’s saddlebags.
More words of goodbye and thanks, and they headed out, with Zach riding Tesoro and leading his stallion. Nick decided not to argue the point, as Zach did have more experience with horses, and there was no telling how Tesoro would respond to a long ride.
They made good time riding downhill, the fog lifting and allowing them to enjoy the view of the valley and terraced hillside covered in grapevines, occasionally broken up by clusters of olive trees or cork oak trees.
They rounded one of the hairpin turns and Nick inhaled sharply. This was where Marlow had tried to bash in his skull yesterday. Nick had seen two gagged men sitting with their backs to the tree and dismounted to investigate. He’d heard the crunch of a footstep on dirt and acorns behind him, and before he could even turn his head the world had gone black. Marlow was tying Nick’s hands behind his back when his senses returned, his head throbbing. He had pretended to still be unconscious in the hope that Marlow wouldn’t feel the need to tie his feet or gag him, like Ruford and Hornsby.
A soft gasp beside him alerted him that Harriet had recognized the spot, too. She gave him an anxious glance. He shook his head and flashed her a smile. The bright spot of the incident had been having Harriet’s hands all over him. She’d come close to finding out just how much his body appreciated her touch when blindly reaching behind her. Her tender ministration of the gash on his brow, her hands gentle on his face, had been a balm.
At some point in the near future he was going to contrive to have her touching him again. Without other people nearby.
They rode to the bottom of the hill, to the estalagem they’d stayed at two nights ago. Another bout of vertigo slammed into Nick when he dismounted. He closed his eyes and clutched the saddle with one hand and his horse’s mane with the other until the dizzy spell passed. When he turned, Zach and Harriet were walking the horses across the inn yard. He quickly caught up with them. They watered the horses, and the humans had a light meal of bread, cheese, and wine.
Nick went in to have a discussion with the innkeeper about the port wine he’d drank the other night. No, he didn’t want a bottle or two; he wanted two dozen cases. The innkeeper was delighted. His cousin owned the winery and was already loading a shipment headed to their shop in Vila Nova de Gaia. He could have Nick’s order delivered on a rabelo alongside the Wind Dancer by noon tomorrow.
Business concluded, Nick went back out to the yard.
“You want to try it again, don’t you?” Zach said to Harriet when they were ready to leave.
She briefly ducked her head, then proudly lifted her chin and looked him in the eye. “Yes,” she declared.
Zach handed her Tesoro’s reins and took the reins of her grey gelding as he mounted his black stallion. Nick moved closer, planning to boost her into the saddle. Zach subtly shooed him away.
Puzzled, Nick watched as Harriet patted Tesoro on the neck and fed him a bite of carrot. She gripped a large clump of his mane near the wither with her left hand while standing with her back to his shoulder, took a deep breath, then turned and hopped up at the same time she swung her right leg up. It took her a moment to settle into the right spot on the saddle but then she was steady, reins soft in her hands, ready to go, big smile breaking across her face. Apparently Tesoro hadn’t been the only one practicing in the pasture yesterday while Nick had napped.
She was so pleased with herself, Nick couldn’t help sharing her joy.
“The vicar’s pony was just as big to me as Tesoro is now when I first started riding her,” Harriet said as she urged Tesoro out to the road.
“Bareback,” Nick said.
“Of course.”
“With the vicar’s permission?”
She gave him an impish grin. “He was awfully busy with the people in his parish.”
Zach laughed.
“I begin to suspect that Harriet the schoolmistress—the teacher of deportment, the shy miss with the maid—that I met in London was a facade,” Nick said slowly as they traveled down the road, “and this adventurous Harry is your true personality.”
Harriet tilted her head, considering his words, but didn’t reply.
