Eli’s lips could not help but grin at such an endearing gesture. Olive was sweet and strong, adorable and majestic. He could not help but love her. Nor could he stay away.
He set out toward the fence.
The horses scented him first, flaring their nostrils and tilting their ears in his direction.
Olive glanced over. A smile transformed her face from merely pretty to heart-wrenchingly beautiful. She sauntered toward the fence.
He met her there, hungry for her kisses.
She tilted her face up toward his. Just before his lips could claim hers, she touched her nose to his and turned away with a coquettish bat of her eyelashes, perfectly cognizant that he wanted a kiss, and she had the power to grant or deny.
He had never been more flustered.
“Earn your kiss.” Her cheeks flushed pink as she danced backward out of reach. “Take a ride with me.”
Belatedly, Eli realized that two of the horses were saddled. Duke, he would not be going anywhere near. The other was Mr. Edward.
“Mr. Edward is a sweetheart,” she assured him. “Docile as a lamb.”
So claimed the renowned prodigy unintimidated by wild stallions.
“I must mount a horse to earn a kiss?”
“Mount and ride.” She used the fence as a stepping-stool and was astride Duke in the space of a second. When the stallion responded by rearing up in a rampant pose, she laughed and patted his neck.
Duke returned his feet to the ground and nickered, as if it had all been part of the joke.
Eli swung his doubtful gaze to Mr. Edward.
Unlike Duke, Mr. Edward was of a more reasonable size. He looked ordinary. The kind of horse that pulled a sleigh up and down the same road for years without complaint. The kind of horse that gave rides to children. The kind of horse that stood still as a statue when chubby-cheeked toddlers demanded a turn on the saddle.
Eli wasn’t fooled for a moment.
“Come along,” Olive urged. “If you do this, I’ll give you a reward.”
“I don’t deserve the reward,” he muttered.
She laughed. “I don’t mean marriage. I’m talking about kisses. Besides, I already told you: they mean nothing.”
To one of them, anyway.
“Very well,” he said. “On those terms.”
He had to.
Only four days to be with Olive remained. This was his last chance to create as many good memories with her as possible before it all came crashing down.
Even if it involved riding a horse.
He gazed dubiously across the fence.
“Mr. Edward is easier to mount when you’re both on the same side of the fence,” Olive suggested.
Eli liked the side he was on. It was safe and horse-free. He had performed the calculations, and the risk of being trampled was significantly lower on the side without any horses. Only a fool would cross that barrier.
Or a man in love.
He tightened his jaw and scaled the fence.
When his boots hit the hard ground on the other side, all of the horses turned to face him.
Duke advanced on him suddenly.
Eli pressed his back into the fence post.
“Stop that,” Olive scolded her stallion. “You’ve already got me. You don’t need him, too.”
Not now, not ever.
“Mr. Edward,” she called. “Be a dear and make things easier on our guest.”
Eli glared at her. The situation was embarrassing enough without the implication that her horse spoke English and would take charge of the matter.
With a loud sigh, Mr. Edward ambled over to Eli and stood stock still in front of him.
He looked at Olive in disbelief. “Your horse understands English?”
“I cheated,” she admitted. “Although all of the horses recognize my name, the only thing Mr. Edward knows how to do is give rides. I could recite the kings and queens of England and he would assume a brisk walk was in his future.”
“A slow walk,” Eli corrected. “Or we could stay here. This is a lovely spot. Gorgeous view of the stables.”
But he eased himself into the saddle.
There. He’d done it. His leg would eventually stop shaking.
Olive cast a critical eye in his direction. She shook her head, leapt down from Duke, and made a circular motion with her hand. “Not quite right. Do it again.”
“Do it again?” Eli stared at her in horror. Mounting the horse once had been disturbing enough. Doing it twice would be madness.
“I’ll show you how to be smoother,” she explained. “You won’t startle the horse, which leads to a better experience for both horse and rider.”
“This is a terrible experience,” he informed her. “I’ve had more fun nicking my throat with a straight razor or falling down stairs whilst reading a botany text.”
“It’ll be fine,” she promised. “Trust me.”
He trusted her.
He didn’t trust the horse.
With ample misgivings, he eased down from Mr. Edward and edged to one side.
“We’ll work on dismounts, too,” Olive said, which made Eli regret everything.
It took half an hour for her to pronounce him reasonably capable of mounting and dismounting. Half an hour in which absolutely anything could have gone horribly wrong, but miraculously did not.
Olive had complete control over her beasts and, with endless patience, managed to impart some of that hands-on knowledge to an amateur botanist who actively resisted “having faith” and the recurring lie of “just one more time.”
By the time they finally set out on their ride, Eli was so grateful to no longer be mounting and dismounting that it was almost a relief to be carried passively on the back of his horse.
“We’re almost there,” Olive called over her shoulder.
He blinked. “We’re going somewhere specific?”
“Just ahead.” She pointed. “I’ll race you!”
Duke shot off as though launched from a cannon.
“Don’t even think about it,” Eli whispered to Mr. Edward.
Mr. Edward slowed to a stop to chew a hunk of hedera helix.
Olive and Duke disappeared into the woods.
“Damn it,” Eli muttered. “We’re going to have to move fast if we want to catch them.”
He knew how. He just didn’t like it.
Eli tightened his grip on the reins, raised his hands over Mr. Edward’s head, and pushed with his legs. In moments, he took Mr. Edward from trot to canter to gallop.
None of which was faster than the racing of Eli’s heart.
When he rounded the track into the woods, Olive stood in front of a small pavilion with latticed walls. Duke was off to one side, munching on foliage.
Olive looked at Eli in astonishment. “That was fast.”
“Just because I don’t, doesn’t mean I can’t.” He slid down from Mr. Edward on legs made of pudding. “Don’t ask me to do it again.”
“We’ll walk back as slow as you please,” she promised. “You can lead.”
“Well?” he demanded. “Where’s my kiss?”
She grinned and wrapped her arms about his neck. “Come and take it.”
He slanted his mouth over hers.
Having Olive in his arms made almost anything worth it. Even risking life and limb on the back of a horse called Mr. Edward.