Free The Wedding Duel (The Dueling Pistols Series) by Katy Madison Page A
Authors: Katy Madison
horse edged forward, allowing Sophie access to her flank. Sophie rewarded the mare with long soothing strokes. The groom shook his head.
"Go on and fetch me a saddle. I should hate to have to tell Quigsby I had to do it myself." Sophie smiled at the boy, but she knew he would do her bidding when she threatened to report him to the head groom.
He grumbled as he put on the saddle. "If you please, miss, I'll be just a minute to fetch me a 'orse."
"No need. I shall just trot her up the drive and back. We shall be gone no longer than it takes you to sweep her stall. I'm not really dressed for riding."
Sophie led the young mare outside into the yard. The horse shied and twitched, tossing its head.
"Come, love, I bet you haven't been ridden in a week." Sophie led the mare to the mounting block, stroking the sleek brown coat. "You are such a pretty thing." The horse was all smooth muscle and bundled energy. "I do not like the name Salamanca. I shall call you Grace."
Sophie shifted into the saddle, and Grace took off without waiting for her rider to settle. Sophie managed to get her foot in the stirrup as the horse ran forward. Grace was not of a mind to follow the drive so Sophie let her have her head as they took off across a field toward the woods. Once Grace burned off some energy, Sophie would steer her onto a bridle path.
Only, directing Grace proved harder than expected. Sophie gave a solid jerk on the reins, trying to wrest control from the headstrong horse. Grace reared.
Sophie pitched forward and held on for dear life. She considered herself too good a horsewoman to be thrown. Grace came back on all fours and careened through the trees.
"Dear God, why are you riding that unbroken horse?"
Sophie whipped her head around to see Mr. Ponsby galloping his horse behind her.
"Hello, to you," she yelled back. "She's just a little nervous with the new surroundings."
"Sophie, I was with your father when he bought her. She is not broken yet. I was coming over to speak with your father about her training."
Sophie tried again to steer the horse toward the path. Between her efforts at redirecting the horse and Ponsby's approach, Grace took exception.
"Stop that horse!" shouted Ponsby.
Grace bucked.
Sophie had the bizarre thought as she tumbled forward that if she had not been braced for Grace to rear, she should not be watching her skirts fly over her head and about to have an intimate meeting with the ground.
She seemed to be in the air an extraordinarily long time. Ponsby cried out her name. Then the ground jarred every part of her from her head down.
Grace gave an hysterical neigh and then there was silence. Images swam before Sophie's eyes, and she shut them rather than allowing the motion to make her sick.
When she opened them again Ponsby was over her, or rather, two Ponsbys leaned over her as if one were not enough. At first she heard his pleas as if he were far away.
"Sophie, please say something. Sophie!"
"I'm all right."
Ponsby moaned.
Sophie wasn't sure the words had come out as she thought them. Ponsby didn't seem too reassured. She raised an arm and put her hand on his shoulder. He pulled her hand between his own and kissed it.
He stroked her hair. "Talk to me, Sophie."
"Everything is fuzzy."
"Oh, dear Lord," muttered the squire. "I need to get you home. You landed on your head."
Why should she move when everything around her was moving? "I should like to lie here a moment, please. I shall be fine in a trice."
"Are you sure?"
She nodded, which hurt, so she closed her eyes.
As senses and sensations returned, Sophie was aware that her legs were quite cold. She shivered. Her teeth rattled painfully in her head.
Ponsby tore off his coat and draped it over her. Sophie tried to sit. The movement made her dizzy. She clutched at Ponsby's shirt as she lay back down, uncertain the ground would be there. Everything swung around at an alarming rate.
Ponsby ran his large hands first over her head and then
"Go on and fetch me a saddle. I should hate to have to tell Quigsby I had to do it myself." Sophie smiled at the boy, but she knew he would do her bidding when she threatened to report him to the head groom.
He grumbled as he put on the saddle. "If you please, miss, I'll be just a minute to fetch me a 'orse."
"No need. I shall just trot her up the drive and back. We shall be gone no longer than it takes you to sweep her stall. I'm not really dressed for riding."
Sophie led the young mare outside into the yard. The horse shied and twitched, tossing its head.
"Come, love, I bet you haven't been ridden in a week." Sophie led the mare to the mounting block, stroking the sleek brown coat. "You are such a pretty thing." The horse was all smooth muscle and bundled energy. "I do not like the name Salamanca. I shall call you Grace."
Sophie shifted into the saddle, and Grace took off without waiting for her rider to settle. Sophie managed to get her foot in the stirrup as the horse ran forward. Grace was not of a mind to follow the drive so Sophie let her have her head as they took off across a field toward the woods. Once Grace burned off some energy, Sophie would steer her onto a bridle path.
Only, directing Grace proved harder than expected. Sophie gave a solid jerk on the reins, trying to wrest control from the headstrong horse. Grace reared.
Sophie pitched forward and held on for dear life. She considered herself too good a horsewoman to be thrown. Grace came back on all fours and careened through the trees.
"Dear God, why are you riding that unbroken horse?"
Sophie whipped her head around to see Mr. Ponsby galloping his horse behind her.
"Hello, to you," she yelled back. "She's just a little nervous with the new surroundings."
"Sophie, I was with your father when he bought her. She is not broken yet. I was coming over to speak with your father about her training."
Sophie tried again to steer the horse toward the path. Between her efforts at redirecting the horse and Ponsby's approach, Grace took exception.
"Stop that horse!" shouted Ponsby.
Grace bucked.
Sophie had the bizarre thought as she tumbled forward that if she had not been braced for Grace to rear, she should not be watching her skirts fly over her head and about to have an intimate meeting with the ground.
She seemed to be in the air an extraordinarily long time. Ponsby cried out her name. Then the ground jarred every part of her from her head down.
Grace gave an hysterical neigh and then there was silence. Images swam before Sophie's eyes, and she shut them rather than allowing the motion to make her sick.
When she opened them again Ponsby was over her, or rather, two Ponsbys leaned over her as if one were not enough. At first she heard his pleas as if he were far away.
"Sophie, please say something. Sophie!"
"I'm all right."
Ponsby moaned.
Sophie wasn't sure the words had come out as she thought them. Ponsby didn't seem too reassured. She raised an arm and put her hand on his shoulder. He pulled her hand between his own and kissed it.
He stroked her hair. "Talk to me, Sophie."
"Everything is fuzzy."
"Oh, dear Lord," muttered the squire. "I need to get you home. You landed on your head."
Why should she move when everything around her was moving? "I should like to lie here a moment, please. I shall be fine in a trice."
"Are you sure?"
She nodded, which hurt, so she closed her eyes.
As senses and sensations returned, Sophie was aware that her legs were quite cold. She shivered. Her teeth rattled painfully in her head.
Ponsby tore off his coat and draped it over her. Sophie tried to sit. The movement made her dizzy. She clutched at Ponsby's shirt as she lay back down, uncertain the ground would be there. Everything swung around at an alarming rate.
Ponsby ran his large hands first over her head and then