I nervously patted Summer’s mane. Peter could not mean to compliment me so greatly. My emotions of late must be exaggerating his words. “What are you after with such flattery, Peter Wood?”
His smile broke free. “What might it earn me?”
“Nothing but trouble, I am sure.”
“Perfect. As long as it involves you.”
I flashed him a feigned scowl, nerves fluttering wildly in my stomach. We needed a new subject, and quick.
“Is this not a perfect day?” Peter asked, as if he knew my thoughts.
“In every way.” I turned my face to the sky. “I love the way the grass smells, and the sound of the wind blowing through the trees. And the birds flying freely, soaring even. Brighton is an entirely different environment.”
“But do you not love the ocean? It is vast and mysterious, much more so than the farmlands here.”
“The ocean is the only part of Brighton I do like. But it is just another place I cannot explore. I don’t want to merely imagine what it might feel like to have a wave wash over me. I want to jump in. Here, at least, I can roam wherever I please, and experience all the beauty right at my fingertips.”
“I see.” A smile touched his eyes. “I am pleased to hear it.”
At that moment, Grace leaped into a run, bucking wildly and running far off our grassy path and into the sludge of mud in the middle of the pasture.
Time stopped as I watched Peter pulling feverishly at the reins, tightening his grip and trying to recover his hold.
“Grace!” I yelled, following as close as I dared with Summer. “It’s all right, girl! Grace!”
Peter steadied her for a split second, just long enough to jump down into the mud, boots slopping noisily. He slapped Grace on the rump, and she took off at a run. “She will have to find her own way home.” After feeling through his pockets for something, he frowned. “Blast. I’ve lost my fob watch.”
I stopped beside him and started to dismount. “What does it look like?”
“Stay up, Amelia. This mud is deep,” Peter said with a tightened jaw. Every step he took required great effort, his boots rising from the thick mud with a sucking sound.
“I am not afraid of a little mud,” I said, balancing on Summer and searching the brown slog for any semblance of a watch. The sun hit a glimmer a few paces away. “But I can see that you are not as comfortable with it as I.”
“I love it.” Peter frowned with heavy sarcasm. “I would sleep in a bed of mud every night, given the chance.”
“Would you?” I snorted, and he glanced up at me in mirth. I lifted my skirts and hopped down, and my boots instantly sank to my calves in mud. I did not want to disappoint Peter if I was wrong in what I’d seen, and I was just as capable as he to wade through mud.
He started toward me, obviously coming to rescue me from the same sticky situation he’d found himself in. I put every ounce of energy I had into my legs, pulling up my feet from their grasping holes.
“Do not attend me, Peter. I am fine.”
He threw his hands in the air and muttered something about “audacious” and “stubborn” under his breath.
I made my way closer to the glimmering piece until I was close enough to see that it was in fact the watch.
Several feet away, Peter bent over the ground and poked at what appeared to be a rock. He tossed it over his shoulder, barely getting his hands dirty, and missing Summer by an inch.
He thought me audacious, did he? I pulled off my gloves and tucked them neatly into the pocket of my riding habit. I plucked the watch from the mud, the dirt coating my hands as I examined it. My lips pursed, and I thought of the promise I’d made to Mary about staying out of the mud. I’d have to clean my hands somehow before they muddied my dress.
“Here. Your stubborn, audacious friend has recovered your fob watch.”
“Have you really?” He straightened up, hurrying toward me.
I placed the watch in his outstretched hand. “You’re welcome. But if you call me audacious again, you’ll have this to answer to.” Holding my muddy palms up for him to see, I gave him a serious look. “If you were an honorable gentleman, you’d offer me a napkin.”
“It is occupied,” he said as he pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his watch clean. Honestly? Did his watch take precedence over me? First gloves, and now this? “Is that so?”
He grunted, clearly too busy in his examination to bother with my current need. Perhaps I should make my problems more of his. I moved beside him, then hesitated. How would Peter react to my aggravating him? Would he be angry with me? This was my chance to find out.
“Peter, you’ve something on your cheek,” I said nonchalantly.
“Hmm? Where?” His brow constricted, and he looked to me.
Before he could blink, I swiped my muddy fingertips along his cheek. It was hardly more than a few streaks of mud; still, I had to suppress a laugh as his face registered shock.
I could see his mind working behind his eyes. Slowly, he tucked his watch back into his fob pocket. My instincts told me to run.
Before I could turn around, Peter had my wrist and forced my other hand to my face, smearing mud along my ear. I whipped my head around and yanked my wrist from his grasp, but Peter merely grinned, clearly pleased with himself.
This wouldn’t do. But I was out of mud.
Dipping low, I let my hands sink just far enough into the muck for one last coating.
“Amelia . . .” Peter straightened as I stood to meet him, his face suddenly fearful. “We are square now. An eye for an eye, you know.”
“Did you not say only moments ago that you wanted this, Peter? What was it you said? You did not mind trouble as long as it was with me?”
Peter stepped sideways, eyeing my hands. “Let’s have a truce, shall we? I will give you your ransom, whatever it may be.”
I took a step closer, and Peter dashed behind Summer, pulling her along with him.
“Are you really hiding behind a horse?” I jested.
“Name your price, I beg of you.” Peter’s voice was laughing, terrified.
“Anything I want?”
“Anything. I swear it.”
“All right, Peter. Come out.”
His eyes peeked above Summer’s back.
Hands held innocently in the air—though I remained undecided as to whether or not I would relent—I moved with effort around Summer to meet Peter. Just as I reached out to him, my right foot got stuck in the mud, and before I could find my balance, I was falling, face first. I grasped the lapel of his coat in an effort to save myself. But it wasn’t enough. I shrieked as we fell, a splattering sound welcoming us. Peter was laughing, breathless, as I tried to use his neck to pull myself up out of the sinkhole.