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“Perhaps she could have a ride by herself,” I ventured, suspecting the child found her uncle intimidating. His demeanour was always so fierce. I had not seen the man smile or utter a light word once.
The man nodded and, swinging his leg over the horse’s back, jumped down from the stirrup, landing deftly on the ground beside me. In the next moment, he swung the child up onto the horse. She shrieked in alarm, but once in the saddle, grinned widely and stroked the coarse mane.
I smiled at the man beside me, an expression he did not return. Instead, he examined my face, his gaze lingering on my mouth, as he took hold of the reins and commanded the horse forward.
“You look rather pale today, Miss Samuels. Are you unwell?”
I wondered why he cared enough to ask.
“Perfectly well. Just a little tired.”
“The children keep you busy.”
I laughed. “Yes, but I did not sleep soundly last night.”
His body seemed to stiffen beside me, and I looked up at his face. His gaze, however, was now fixed ahead.
“The storm?” he asked.
“Hmmm,” I said, rubbing at my forehead, that strange unease, the vision of the monster returning. I shivered. “And the strangest of dreams.” I don’t know why I told him. Perhaps it was because I had no one else to confide in and I feared these wild thoughts would drive me mad. Perhaps I was already falling into insanity. Was I not long for the asylum?
“Ahhhh, dreams,” he mumbled. “They have unsettled you.” His arm brushed ever so briefly against mine as we walked and, despite the layers of my clothes, the friction drew an awareness across my skin.
“Yes, this one, it seemed… it seemed so real.”
“And what do you believe of dreams, Miss Samuels?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You have studied the sciences—”
“A little, but—”
“Then what do you think these dreams mean?”
That I am losing my mind, I thought. But I was too frightened to utter those words. The man would not want a mad woman caring for his young nephew and niece.
When I didn’t answer, I sensed him turn his head to look at me. His presence beside me was cowing, his scent that same smell of wilderness I had noticed the first time we met. I peered at his hand, tightly coiled around the rein. His arms bulged against the constraints of his coat. He was a strong man. Powerful. It radiated from every inch of his body.
“I think dreams reveal our inner desires,” he said, “our inner passions. Things we try to keep hidden from others, from ourselves even.”
His words heated my blood, making my cheeks burn.
I shook my head. “No, this was… this was… frightening.” My voice faltered slightly as fear rattled through my body.
He growled, and the noise had me snapping my gaze to his face. His eyes were still locked resolutely on the horse.
At that moment, the little girl called down to me.
“Sarah, I’m cold.” The wind whipped across the lawn and the horse shook its head.
Mr. Edwards drew his hand down the animal's long nose, shushing it slightly with a murmur of his lips. “I will return her to the house. Do not tarry, Miss Samuels. You should not be out in the grounds once darkness falls.”
Thick grey clouds blanketed the sky, the sun well hidden, its light filtered away.
The man tightened his grip on the reins and set off at pace across the lawn, faster than I could follow. I watched him go, noting the way the horse seemed small next to him, observing the way the muscles worked in his thick thighs and broad shoulders.
Halfway across the lawn, he turned and caught me gaping.
