Page 39 of How the Duke Saved Christmas

“Actually, it was. When I was in the village, I also paid the blacksmith and carpenter to spend every waking hour between now and Christmas making toys to hang on your tree.” He rubbed at his nape and grumbled, “I think I’d be better off just having the estate’s accounts go straight to their shops.”

Her expression melted, and now when her eyes glistened, he knew it wasn’t from frustration and grief. It was exactly the reaction he’d hoped for. “You…ordered toys for the tree?”

He shrugged. “There was no possibility that you and the children could make enough toys yourselves in time for the open house to give one to every child on the estate.”

“Or the quality of toys that real craftsmen can make.” Her voice trembled. “Thank you, Michael. That was very kind of you.”

“Anything for the children.” He paused. “And for you.”

She stiffened and swung her attention back to the horse. “The toys for the children are one thing, but you need to stop going to so much trouble for me when nothing can come of it.”

“I don’t think that’s the case at all. I think a very enjoyable afternoon will come of it, and perhaps even more rides for you in the future.”

Shaking her head, she gestured futilely at the mare as the horse idly worked her muzzle into a gap between the stall wall and its door. “I only have one leg to grasp with. I won’t be able to stay in the saddle for anything more than a slow walk.”

“Good. Because I don’t plan on doing anything more.”

Frustration darkened her face. Clutching for any excuse for why she couldn’t go with him, she countered, “The horse might startle and throw me.”

“Any horse might startle and throw its rider.” He watched the grey mare, who was fascinated by whatever was inside the stall. “But I’d bet my estate this one won’t.” Which was exactly why he’d picked her for Clara. “She’s the most docile creature who’s ever been under saddle.”

The mare lifted her head from the gap where she had sneaked a mouthful of hay from the stall’s hayrack. A long piece of dried grass dangled from the side of her mouth, and she paused in mid-chew as she looked back at them, as if she knew they were talking about her.

Michael bit down a grin. That fat, old mare wouldn’t jump in surprise if someone shot fireworks off between her hooves.

Clara knew it, too.Her shoulders sagged, but he wasn’t certain if she’d given up on arguing or onherself.

He knelt in front of her. “I know how much you used to love to ride, the exhilaration of it, the freedom.” He slowly reached for her hand. If she refused to let him take it, it would end him. “I know how much you liked horses better than most people.”

A short laugh rose on her lips, and she let him hold her hand.Thank God.

“I know things are different for you now and that every day is a challenge. But you’ll be on horseback again. You’ll have that freedom back.”

She looked down at their joined hands and took a long, deep breath.

“At least try it, will you?” He squeezed her fingers. “You’ll never know if you could have done it or not if you don’t try, and there’s no one here to see you if you can’t. No one will ever know but us.” When she hesitated, he knew the moment was now or never, and if she gave up now, she would lose completely any gains she’d made since her arrival. So he changed tack and baited her. “But if you don’t feel confident enough, I understand completely. After all, you can’t blame avoiding this experience on the accident.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you know…” He slowly pulled his hand from hers, rocked back on his heels, and stood. “You were never considered a skilled horsewoman even before the accident.”

Her eyes flared, and he welcomed the spirit in her, even if it meant there’d be hell to pay for it.

“I was averyskilled horsewoman,” she fired back.

Hoping to stir up her irritation even more, he challenged, “I know you rode slowly through the park on Sunday mornings.”

“I galloped, even though it was against the rules. And jumped.” She scoffed at his description of her rides. “Show me another society miss who can gallop and jump sidesaddle.”

“Inever saw you do any of that.”

“That’s because you were still too foxed from the night before to be up early enough to go riding.” When he opened his mouth to lie and dispute that, she quickly added, “I was a better rider than most London gentlemen, in fact.”

“You’ll have to prove it, then, because I don’t believe you.”

“I will.” But as soon as the words passed her lips, she realized what she had just agreed to, and she clutched once more at straws. “But I can’t use the block, so there’s no way for me to mount.”

“I can help with that.”