Free Shev by Tracey Devlyn

moved to see what had drawn their attention when Jacqueline turned to her suddenly and exclaimed, “A pony!”
    All Anne’s wariness, concern, and self-recrimination vanished at the sight of one beaming smile from a troubled little girl. Without thought, she stepped forward and gathered Jacqueline’s long, wavy hair and draped it down her back before settling her hands on the girl’s shoulders.
    Inside the massive stall, a mare and her newborn stood with their noses together. The baby’s coat was a deep, impenetrable black but for the adorable white patch above its left knee.
    Lord Shevington peered down at his daughter. “He needs a name.”
    “He doesn’t have one yet?”
    Before the marquess could answer, Finn jumped in. “His lordship wouldn’t hear of it. Informed us all that he was bringing someone special to Fenmore to do the honors.” He winked at Jacqueline and received a scowl from her father. “You’re a lucky young lady. His lordship doesn’t allow just anyone to name his prized horseflesh, and this young buck is going to be a champion. Mark my words.” Finn lowered his voice. “Make it a strong name, Miss Jacqueline.”
    The girl’s face puckered in concentration. Anne could almost feel the girl’s desire to pick the perfect name. It was obvious she’d never been entrusted with such a task before, and she wanted to get it right.
    Curious, the newborn tiptoed to where Jacqueline stood with her face pressed between two wooden slats. The closer he came, the broader the girl’s grin grew.
    Remembering what she’d been taught, Jacqueline smoothed her small hand down the newborn’s narrow black nose. When he made to shy away from her touch, she coaxed him forward with melodic words in her native tongue.
    He stepped closer again, and Jacqueline rewarded him with a smile. “Petit courageux.”
    Brave little one.
    Pride wedged itself in Anne’s throat. Only a short while ago, Jacqueline balked at going near the horses for fear of scaring them. And now, she praised a newborn for being courageous.
    Anne glanced at Lord Shevington and found him looking at her out of the corner of his eye. The same pride she felt shone in his dark eyes. She smiled, enjoying the moment with him. His nostrils flared and his chest rose. His head slowly angled her way.
    Her attention dropped to his mouth. A mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake. Need fanned through her, heating her most intimate places and making her pulse spiral out of control.
    Turning to her more fully, he lifted a hand toward her cheek.
    “Prewitt,” Jacqueline announced, oblivious of the inferno igniting at her back.
    The marquess dropped his hand to his side, and the look he sent Anne made it clear they would discuss what had almost happened—later.
    “Prewitt, you say?”
    “Oui . ” Jacqueline sent a tentative glance toward the stable master. “Is that a strong name?”
    Finn deferred to Lord Shevington. “What do you think, my lord? Is Prewitt brawny enough for your champion-to-be?”
    Jacqueline lifted worried eyes to her father.
    “Indeed, it is. A fine, brawny name.”
    With those four words, he won over Jacqueline’s trust. And Anne’s heart.
    * * *
    Unlike their previous meals together, this evening’s dinner turned out to be a lively affair.
    Jacqueline regaled her grandmother about the newborn and listed all the different names she’d considered before deciding on Prewitt. And how she and Prewitt were already fast friends. The marchioness listened with the rapt attention of a besotted grandparent, encouraging the girl to continue her story with expertly delivered questions.
    Lord Shevington did his part to keep the conversation going, making outrageous comments and forcing his indignant daughter to correct him. For the first time since joining this household, his lordship seemed genuinely amused by his daughter’s antics. His indulgent, I’m-of-superior-intellect expression never made an appearance. Not once. Nor did he pick