Isabelle and Alexander by Rebecca Anderson (read novel full .TXT) 📕

Alexander placed his hand on her back as he leaned across to unlatch Destiny’s stall door. She felt the ghost of that pressure warm her as he saddled the horse and brought her out.

The beautiful, terrifying stallion, Allegro, made no secret of his disapproval as they left him stabled.

“Poor him,” Isabelle said.

Alexander, astride his dappled gray, laughed. “Poor Allegro? He could throw a man from here to the city. He’s to be admired, not pitied.”

Isabelle wanted to argue that the pity wasn’t about Allegro’s abilities but rather his confinement; however, she was enjoying the playful and encouraging tone of the conversation. She nodded and held her tongue.

“Where shall we ride?” Isabelle asked.

Alexander spread both arms wide, balancing gracefully on Goblin. “Lead the way, my lady.”

My lady. Isabelle felt her breath catch. Goodness, how different her view of marriage might be if Alexander spoke to her this way in the city. How different it might still prove to be, beginning today.

Isabelle realized that Alexander had issued an invitation to which she must respond. “I don’t know the grounds,” she said.

Alexander brought his horse closer. He reached over and patted Destiny. “She does. Trust her.”

When given the reins, Destiny trotted toward a path in the wood to the east. Isabelle looked over her shoulder. “Here?”

“Certainly. Destiny knows her mind. Sometimes it takes her a bit to get where she’s going. If you’re patient with her, she’ll open up to you the most spectacular views.”

Isabelle ducked under a low-hanging branch and wondered if he would ever make such a statement about her.

They walked through woods and trotted across meadows. At one point, Alexander gave Goblin the reins and they galloped across an expanse of grasses and boulders. Isabelle watched the horse navigate the terrain, keeping himself in the green so he could run.

As the sun peered through the scudding clouds, it would illuminate a hill of grasses and send a bloom of green light that made Isabelle’s heart sing. How she missed her childhood home with its fields and groves and living, growing things. This wild park brought her great joy.

She let Destiny wander through the field, trotting, then cantering, stopping to nibble grasses or drink from the stream. She remained always in sight of Alexander, but she found it pleasing to have the opportunity to be experiencing the same enjoyment at the same time, even at a small distance. The forthcoming delight of talking over their similar but separate experiences gave her a thrill of anticipation.

She found her eyes drifting to Alexander and his obvious strength and grace on horseback. She could see, even from across the little valley, his hair lifting and falling with each leap of his horse. He looked like joy made personal out there in the patchy sunlight.

Once, he looked at her as she looked at him, sending a wave across the grassy field. As she lifted her arm to wave back, a shiver of happiness moved through her.

She wondered again if they could stay here. Mr. Kenworthy was more than capable of managing the factory in Alexander’s absence. Mr. Connor, so eager to come to the Osgoods’ home at the first sign of trouble with the equipment, was proficient in the running of the machinery. And there was no question, even in the few hours they’d spent today, that she and Alexander were better together here in the country. In the city they had none of the playfulness, none of the attentiveness she felt here with him.

Pondering the possibility of discussing a longer stay this summer, Isabelle’s attention was jerked back to Alexander when she heard Goblin’s scream—there was no other way to describe it: a sound of terror and pain and loss of control that tore through the horse and into Isabelle’s ears like a physical wound.

Destiny stiffened beneath her, and she pointed the horse toward Alexander as she watched him struggle to calm Goblin. Whatever had spooked the horse had apparently not gone, for he reared again on his back legs, struggling for balance. Coming down again, Goblin leapt into the air at a strange angle. Isabelle watched helplessly from the opposite side of the valley as Alexander’s body was thrown into the air. He sailed out of the saddle like a piece of cloth, arced away from the horse, and landed against a large boulder, where he lay still.

By the time Isabelle guided Destiny across the valley, Goblin had calmed himself and stood watch over Alexander’s still form. Isabelle slid from Destiny’s back and knelt in the grass.

“Alexander?” She felt the strange taste of the word on her tongue; had she ever called him by his given name? She didn’t dare call out loudly for fear of startling either him or the horses, but she felt tears on her face. “Alexander?”

He didn’t respond or even stir.

Approaching his unmoving body, she hesitantly reached out to touch his face and pulled back quickly when he didn’t react.

Oh, mercy. Was he dead? She sat back on her heels and then leaned forward again, only to back away in fear. What should she do?

Isabelle felt her breath coming faster, almost a pant, and realized she could listen for his breathing. That would help her know if he was . . . alive.

She leaned her face near his mouth, but she couldn’t hear anything over her own gasps and the pounding of blood in her ears. Her hand made its way to Alexander’s chest, and she felt a gentle rise and fall.

“You’re breathing,” she said, aware of how foolish it was to speak aloud. He certainly wasn’t responding. But there was comfort in the words, the truth of them.

“Alexander, you are breathing,” she repeated, “but I am not at all sure what I should do now. I am going to make a plan, and it’s going to be a good one. Yes. Quite a good plan.” She murmured these words as she kept a hand on Alexander’s chest, looking around the valley.