Leo’s frown lifted slightly, but he still looked stern enough to make Cecily anxious. Her brother was nothing if not protective and she would not have chosen to meet him in this way. She wished Zach had shown more discretion—a glance at his expression showed no apprehension. Did he not realise their social blunder?
Of course he does not. He is a Romany.
‘I understood you said there was a horse needing your treatment, Gray.’ Leo’s voice was clipped with annoyance. His gaze flicked to Cecily and, to her chagrin, she felt her cheeks heat. ‘I trust my sister did not distract you from your errand of mercy?’
He strode towards them. As he reached for Cecily, ready to help her dismount, a loud braying noise rent the air. Polly laid back her ears and skittered sideways, away from Leo. Cecily, her leg already lifted over the pommel and her foot free of the stirrup, was taken unawares and she lurched across the horse’s neck, her hat falling to the ground. As her arms flailed in an attempt to grab the pommel, a strong arm wrapped around her waist from behind, plucking her from the saddle and onto Zach’s lap. Before her brain could even register the sequence of events, Cecily felt her body relax back into the solid strength of Zach’s as though she belonged, safe and secure in his arms. His lips pressed momentarily to her hair. Then he swung his right leg across his horse’s neck, so he was sitting sideways on the horse, and he held Cecily close as he slid to the ground. There was no stumble as he landed—graceful as a cat—and he gently set Cecily on her own two feet. Only then did he release her, with a slide of his hand and a brief squeeze at the side of her waist.
Leo’s face was like thunder but, before he could speak, Daniel said, ‘Oh, well caught, Absalom. Lucky you were there, or Lady Cecily might have come a cropper.’
‘My sister is an accomplished horsewoman.’ The manner in which Leo bit out his words told Cecily of the effort it cost him to keep his temper in check. ‘She would have recovered her seat without help, I assure you.’
Cecily cast an imploring look at Dominic, who ghosted a wink in reply to show he understood her silent plea to defuse the tension. He walked over, picking up Cecily’s fallen hat on the way.
‘Was that a donkey?’ he asked, as he handed the hat to Cecily.
He gazed in the direction of the sound, as though expecting one to materialise from among the trees further along the riverbank and beyond a narrow brook.
‘It was,’ Zach said. ‘He will—there he is.’
And, sure enough, a donkey emerged from the nearby copse and stared, ears stiffly upright, in their direction.
‘Why is he not tethered? Does he belong to you?’ Leo still scowled, his attention still locked on Zach.
‘He is not tethered because he is free.’ Daniel slapped Zach on the back. ‘That’s one of the first things I learned about my friend here.’
He emphasised the word ‘friend’ ever so slightly, and Leo’s gaze switched to him. With a barely perceptible nod, he signalled he had taken Daniel’s point and Cecily breathed more easily.
‘He can charm the birds out of the trees,’ Daniel continued. ‘Creatures love him and he allows them to stay or go as they please.’
The donkey—brownish-grey with ludicrously long ears and huge eyes—had crossed the brook and wandered over to them as they talked. He nudged his head against Zach, who scratched behind his ears. Cecily reached out and stroked his velvet-smooth nose.
‘Does he have a name?’
‘Sancho.’ She caught the quick glint of humour in Zach’s dark eyes—not black as they sometimes appeared, but the deepest, darkest brown she had ever seen. ‘Sancho Panza.’
Dominic guffawed. ‘Sancho Panza! Did you hear that, Father?’
Leo’s lips twitched in a half-smile. ‘And you see yourself as a modern-day Don Quixote, do you, Gray? You and your faithful squire on a quest to revive chivalry, undo wrongs and bring justice to the world?’
There was challenge and a hint of mockery in his tone, but Zach seemed not to notice. He stood, completely relaxed, the donkey by his side.
‘I have yet to mistake a windmill for a ferocious giant,’ he said, with a smile, ‘but it seemed a fitting name.’
Leo acknowledged the comment with a tilt of his chin. ‘Come, Cecily,’ he said. ‘I shall escort you back to the house.’
Before he could move, however, Zach was by Cecily’s side, lacing his fingers for her to step into.
‘Permit me, my lady.’
She stepped into his cupped hands and he effortlessly hoisted her on to Polly’s back. Then he faced Leo.
‘You may entrust Lady Cecily to my care, your Grace. The mare will be ready to treat by now, so it is time I returned. We’ll leave you to enjoy your fishing.’
To Cecily’s surprise, Leo accepted this with a curt nod, but the look he sent her warned she was likely to suffer a lecture on the wisdom of riding around the countryside accompanied only by a Romany. The hypocrisy of his attitude fired her sense of injustice. She knew only too well that Vernon and Thea had, prior to their marriage, spent several unchaperoned days and nights together on the road as they searched for Daniel, who had gone missing. Compared to that, a short morning ride around the Markhams’ estate was completely harmless. She batted away the nagging voice that reminded her that the difference was that she was female.
Thea is a woman, too. And Leo does not think any the less of her for her behaviour.
‘Your brother disapproves,’ Zach said as they rode away, Sancho following behind at a trot.
They crossed over the same little brook and headed towards the copse from which Sancho had emerged.
‘He is protective. It is who he is.’ Cecily might find Leo’s attitude exasperating, but she was allowed to criticise him and be irritated by him. He was her brother.
‘My opinion of him would be less if he were not. He is a strong man and he cares for those he feels responsible for.’
‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’
His expression blanked and she cursed herself for asking such a direct question. Had she not already established that he did not respond well to curiosity? They rode along the edge of the copse until it gave way to a large hayfield. Between the edge of the uncut grass and the trees was a camp, with a tent and a cart. Standing next to the dead ashes of the fire was Myrtle, tail wagging so hard she was almost wriggling with joy.
‘Why is Myrtle here? We left her at the stables.’
‘She would not remain there on her own. This is her home. She will always return.’ Zach turned his head and caught Cecily’s eye. ‘It is where she feels safe, where she is loved.’
Cecily’s heart squeezed at Zach’s words. Home. That is exactly how she felt about her home and her family—safe and loved. But hankering over the past was pointless. She accepted that now. Everything had changed and she was determined to find her new place in the world.
Zach leapt from his horse’s back and crouched down to fondle the dog, murmuring, his voice too quiet for Cecily to make out his words. Then he sprang once more on to his horse and Myrtle settled down, her head on her outstretched paws, and heaved a sigh. As they rode away, Cecily looked back, seeing that the donkey, too, remained at the camp, cropping at the grass.
‘What did you say to Myrtle?’
He sent her a sharp glance. ‘You think it odd that I talk to her?’
She did, a bit. But she did not say so. ‘I have never had a pet dog. Rosalind—the Duchess—she has a dog. He is huge, almost up to my waist, and she talks to him all the time.