Free Burning Bright (Brambridge Novel 2) by Pearl Darling Page B

if she was a French soldier-at-arms, and then he had caressed her hair as if his life depended on it. He reached an unsteady hand under the horse and tightened the saddle straps that had only been tied loosely by the inn’s groom.
    Scorpius sidled sideways. He rolled his eyes a few times and snorted heavily into the cold stable air. Perhaps a run was in order. He had not been so lively since James had ridden him off the battlefield. It would do him good to feel the wind in his face too.
    Scorpius quietened but shifted heavily when James swung himself into the saddle. Urging the horse out of the stable, they made short work of the back lanes out of Brambridge. Hitting the main road to Ottery St Mary at the top of the hill, James let loose with the reins. Scorpius surged forward, faster and faster.
    James hunched forward over the flowing mane, his elbows tucked in and his boots firmly in the stirrups. As the wind blew through his own hair, he breathed out. The familiar feeling of being alive returned to him as it had time and time again on the Peninsular. He hadn’t had that feeling since… since the day before with Harriet. Except that that feeling had come with an intensity of emotion he hadn’t felt since leaving Brambridge.
    His boot almost flew out of a stirrup as he lost concentration. Damn her. She must have hypnotized him. Read something in one of the many books that she had always had her nose in. Either that or the two long years of avoiding all social contact altogether as he had scrambled across Spain and Portugal in advance of the British Army had taken its toll. She was the first woman that he had thought about like this in a long time.
    Reseating his boot in the stirrup, James hunched over Scorpius’ neck again, noting the marker that showed half a mile to Ottery St Mary.
    With a scream, Scorpius slowed and then stopped dead. James hunched lower and pressed his powerful knees into the sides of the horse to urge him forward, but he would not move, skittering sideways on the spot.
    Dismounting, and avoiding the trembling hooves, James held the reins loosely and made his way to the horse's head. Scorpius' eyes rolled even more furiously than before, and his muzzle dripped with foam. Clucking quietly, James checked the horse over carefully, from mane to hoof. Nothing appeared to be out of place. However, it was clear that Scorpius could not bear to ride him any longer. Indeed, every time James made to mount, the stallion sidestepped away neatly.
    With a bark of disbelief, James grabbed the reins again and set off on foot towards Ottery St Mary. The army had bred a quick march into him that could last all day if needed.
    Gradually Scorpius quietened, and by the time they reached Ottery St Mary, he was mischievously placid-looking. Finding a stable on the outskirts of the town, James led the horse into the yard, and stood waiting. A middle aged ostler paused in the middle of shifting straw in a stable and leaned on his spade. Straightening, he looked James in the eye, mouth opening in disbelief. James raised an eyebrow. The ostler snapped his mouth shut.
    “I recognize you, sir. Pardon me for saying, Major Jim Lucky.”
    James frowned. At his look of disbelief, the ostler snapped a salute. “Harald Denys, private, Fifth Grenadiers, sir.” He dropped his hand slowly back to his side, shaking his head. “We used to see you ride into battle in front of your troops at the end of the war. You were legendary, a scout who became a major. You rode out alongside your soldiers. Lord Lassiter was the only other man to do that.”
    The ostler stopped talking, dropping his eyes. James slowly relaxed his shoulders.
    “Other men would have done the same,” he muttered.
    Harald gazed at him in disbelief before taking Scorpius’ reins. “I’m assuming you want to stable him for a few hours, sir?”
    It was James’ turn to be surprised. Scorpius had meekly turned his head, nudged Harald on the shoulder and then half-closed