“First,” he said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it, and I know an apology isn’t enough.”
All right, yes. Her hands might be shaking.
“Did what?” she asked. She hoped he wouldn’t answer.
“I didn’t come up here to marry you.”
“I know.” This was safe enough ground. “My father wanted to heal the breach between the families, and your father probably wanted our farm in your hands so that we would technically have nothing.”
“That would be a breach of good faith,” Elijah agreed. “No doubt it was my father’s contingency plan, if we accidentally ended up married.”
She blinked. “You didn’t come up here to marry me?”
“I was sent to humiliate you and your father. To reenact the aftermath of our first kiss on an even grander scale. My father expected you to obey yours and agree to the betrothal.” Elijah took a deep breath. “I was to wait until the next day, when you told the happy news to your friends, and had the announcement printed in the papers. Until ideally you and your father were standing before the altar in front of witnesses... and then jilt you publicly, saying...” He coughed into his fist. “I won’t repeat it.”
She recoiled in horror.
“I didn’t do it,” he said quickly.
“You were going to do it.” Her blood had drained, leaving her as faint and unsteady as if he had accomplished his goal. He’d been close. She would have accepted a third proposal, and walked right into his trap. “That’s why you came. That was the plan all along.”
He never wanted the farm or her.
She was just a Harper Horse.
A foolish, forgettable beast.
Olive covered her mouth with her hand.
He reached over the fence. “Don’t—”
She slapped his hand away. “You have no right to tell me what to do. I knew better than to trust you. I should never have trusted you.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I told him I wouldn’t do it, and I didn’t do it.”
“When did you have this miraculous attack of conscience?” she demanded, her voice scratchy. “Did you wake up this morning and decide today was the day to stop being a scoundrel? Did you send the marquess a quick note saying, ‘Guess you’ll have to be a knave all on your own?’”
He winced. “Father... is at Marlowe Castle.”
“Today was the day you tired of being the villain,” she choked out in disbelief. “All of the days up to now...” He’d been pretending. Stringing her along. Plotting a theatrical jilt designed for maximum mortification. “And your father has been waiting just along the road for a bird’s-eye view.”
Elijah’s eyes were haunted. “I never wanted to cause you pain.”
She laughed harshly. “You didn’t think this would hurt?”
“Very well, I deserved that. I didn’t want to harm you, and I knew it would. But I wasn’t doing it to cause you pain. My father promised me—”
“I don’t care if he promised you the Throne,” she burst out. “I don’t forgive you. I never will.”
And she would never forgive herself for her role in the charade.
He hadn’t stolen a kiss. She had given it to him with permission. He hadn’t compromised her against her will. She had all but demanded they be lovers, and been positively smug when he’d agreed.
She was the perfect mark. She’d wanted to believe in a courtship so badly, she’d ignored that it was coming from him.
Every moment was a lie designed to hurt her.
And it did.
“Congratulations.” She backed away, her words like gravel in her throat. “You did manage to humiliate me. It wasn’t the public embarrassment you and your father hoped for, but it will have to suffice. Goodbye, Elijah. Our arrangement is over.”
Chapter 15
Eli pressed up against the log fence. “Olive—”
But it was too late.
She hauled herself onto the closest horse. With a press of her heels, she and Charley shot off toward the woods and were gone.
Wonderful.
That conversation had gone exactly as terribly as Eli had imagined.
The last time he’d caused Olive to run away, he had slunk home in fear of his father. Eli was no longer afraid of the marquess, nor was he willing to let his second chance with Olive slip through his fingers.
He was going to have to chase after her.
Gritting his teeth, he vaulted the log fence and took a step toward Rudolph, the sweetest of the horses.
Duke also took a step toward Rudolph.
Ears flat against his head, Rudolph danced sideways out of Duke’s reach, and darted away.
Very well. Eli took a step toward Mr. Edward. He hadn’t appreciated galloping with the gelding during their last encounter, but with Rudolph no longer a possibility—
Duke retracted his lips and pawed his front leg aggressively toward Mr. Edward.
Eli had never seen a horse disappear so quickly.
Duke turned toward Eli.
Eli patted his pockets. No carrots. He’d come straight from the castle.
“Believe me,” he said. “I don’t like this any more than you do. But the longer I wait, the less likely I’ll be able to catch up to her. And if I don’t talk to her now, she’ll toss all of my future letters into the fire and never allow me over her threshold again.”
Duke did not appear particularly swayed by this speech. He had gone from eyeing Eli suspiciously to ignoring him completely, and now stood stock still, his gaze off to the horizon.
Eli inched closer.
Duke didn’t move.
Eli checked the saddle. Snug. He checked the stirrups. Low. In theory, a gifted horseman could launch himself into the stallion’s tall saddle with a single, smooth, one-bounce leap.
Also in theory, Duke would obliterate Eli if he tried.
There was nothing smooth about the panic rippling along Eli’s limb as he considered his options. He knew exactly what it felt like to crack his rib against a log fence just like this one. He knew exactly what it felt like to have the iron imprint of a horseshoe slam into his leg or his arm and hear the sickening crack of his bones breaking.
He knew exactly what it felt like to lose Olive because he hadn’t chased after her when he’d had the chance.
“Love is worth it,” he muttered.
He took a deep breath, grabbed the reins, and swung himself up and into Duke’s saddle.
Eli’s muscles froze in shock.
He’d accomplished it. He was in the saddle. And hadn’t yet been thrown.
In fact... Duke’s nose had lowered to the ground, as if sniffing for any stray carrot pieces that might have fallen from loose pockets during the mount.
Eli adjusted his seat and dug in his heels tentatively.
Duke chewed a mouthful of phleum pratense.
Eli held the reins tighter and spurred his boots into the stallion decisively.
Duke took another bite of grass.
“To Olive,” Eli said desperately. “Please. Before Olive—”
His head jerked backward as Duke sprang forward, leaping the tall fence easily and nearly unseating his rider in the process.
Eli hung on tight as the stallion thundered down the worn path, leaving the stables to disappear in a cloud of dirt behind them.