Page 41 of How the Duke Saved Christmas

“How are you doing?” he asked, turning slightly in his saddle to address her.

“We’re doing fine.” With a smile, Clara reached to pat the mare’s neck.

The mare blew out a long, shuddering breath in exaggeration to show how worn out she was from their long ride.

Michael’s lips twisted. They’d been riding for less than fifteen minutes.

“Enjoying yourself?”

She sniffed and admitted grudgingly, “A bit.”

At that, he turned away before she saw him laughing. Good Lord, he wanted to cheer! She was enjoying herself far more than onlya bit. She’d reclaimed one of her most beloved activities, even if only at a dawdling walk. She wasn’t ready to trot and wouldn’t be for a very long time, but for her, this slow head-to-tail excursion rivaled the thrill of racing at the Epsom Derby.

“Then we’ll keep going,” he called back over his shoulder. “You don’t mind if we circle the field and stay close to the house rather than venturing near the river, do you?”

“Not at all.” She added suspiciously, “But I keep expecting the children to come running out of the woods at any moment so I can’t ask you to return to the stables too soon.”

He feigned wounding. “Would I do something like that?”

“Yes,” she called out, acknowledging his manipulations of the past sennight to coerce her out of her room. Thankfully, though, there was no anger in her voice, only acceptance. “Yes, you would.”

This time he couldn’t hide his laughter, and it echoed across the wintry field. “Well, I suppose I would. But not today.”

Today, he wanted her all to himself.

They rode on in comfortable silence, giving over to the beauty of the day around them. A cloudless blue sky stretched overhead and made the entire world seem like a child’s snow globe by highlighting the rolling hills in the distance and the white blanket of snow beneath.

The snow lay in drifts of varying height across the estate where the storm’s winds had driven it, and the ice crystals on the top layer glittered in the golden sunlight. Even the air seemed perfect in possessing a crisp coldness that exhilarated rather than chilled. The horses moved on, oblivious to the beauty around them and the changing height of the snow beneath their hooves.

They reached the place where the field ended and the woods began. Instead of following the lane onward as it curved toward the valley and the far fields to the south, he pulled up his gelding.

Despite nervous worry that she would refuse, he gestured casually toward the woods. “Are you feeling ready to try cutting away from the lane and riding along the edge of the woods?”

Her face lit at the possibility and unwittingly flooded his chest with relief. “Let’s do.”

With a light press of his heels, he reined his gelding off the smooth and even path and into the meadow. Their horses didn’t hesitate to plough through the snow drifts in the same slow and consistent pace at which they’d ambled down the lane.

The new path added an extra layer of quiet stillness for their afternoon ride. Dark tree trunks in the woods to their right stretched bare branches heavenward, and to their left, the expanse of meadow lay silent with its golden grasses sticking up through layers of thin snow where the wind had drifted it almost down to bare ground. Every sound they made, no matter how soft, was clear and sharp on the cold air.

“Are we going to circle the field, then, and head back to the house?” Clara asked. He couldn’t tell from her voice if the thought disappointed her that their ride should end so soon.

“This way.” Not giving her the chance to stop him, he turned his horse onto a small path that twisted into the woods. The trail was too narrow for both horses to ride abreast and crossed uneven ground—the perfect challenge to push her riding skills. While her mare dropped behind his gelding, Clara maintained an easy and steady pace, visibly unconcerned about the change in terrain.

He led her through the woods and out the other side, then reined in his horse. He smiled over his shoulder at her and nodded toward the field. “We’ve arrived.”

Puzzled, she looked past him, and when she saw the surprise waiting for her, he thought she might just tumble off her horse after all. She gaped, stunned and speechless, at the unexpected sight.

Before them at the edge of the woods was the special picnic he’d given Mrs. Hansen and his head groom orders to create. But the reality outdid even Michael’s expectations.

A drawing room had been recreated at the edge of the woods, complete with a large area rug rolled across the snow and wintertime grass and two winged back chairs with a tall, circular table positioned between them, set with the finest china and silver Northbourne possessed. Behind the chairs stood a long sideboard that held her favorite comfort foods and tempting treats, all kept warm in a spread of chafing dishes. Mrs. Hansen had thought of everything, apparently, right down to urns of bright flowers from the conservatory that decorated each corner of the rug and the fur throws lying across the backs of the chairs. Stretching out before it all were breathtaking views of the valley below, the snow-covered hills in the distance, and the ice-edged river rolling peacefully toward the horizon.

She choked out breathlessly, “What is this?”

“A reminder of all the possibilities that life can bring if you let it.” He slid to the ground and grinned as he tied his horse and approached hers. “And a fun way to ruin our appetites for dinner.”

She was still so surprised that for once she didn’t fight him or argue when he helped her down from the horse and took her into his arms to carry her to the winged back chair.

“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” he explained as he lowered onto his heels beside her chair to help her remove her gloves.