Page 53 of The Dravenhearst Brides
“Margot,” she corrected, smiling back.
“And Merrick,” her husband reminded, frowning with bemusement. “Just introducing Margot to Fox and Omaha. You headed home, Julian?”
“I am.” He nodded toward the vicinity of Hellebore House and the woods. Perhaps he lived on the fringes of the estate like Ruth. Margot had yet to fully explore the grounds. “The horses are secured for the night. Ireckon a storm is rollin’ in—you two best hurry.” With a cheeky wink at Margot, Julian departed.
“Come on, we’ll be quick,” Merrick said, tugging her hand.
Inside the stable, the smell of hay and horse was everywhere. She wrinkled her nose and held her breath, trying to keep the scent of manure at bay.
Merrick was talking, and she registered Fox’s name several times as they approached a stall holding a towering, muscled bay stallion with a stark white blaze down his snout. He stomped his front hoof and nickered as Merrick approached.
Margot didn’t like this, didn’t like it one bit. Her heart rate ticked up. She couldn’t make out Merrick’s words; his lips were moving, but her ears were stuffed with cotton. Her mouth too, terribly dry.
She took a tiny inhale, just enough oxygen for subsistence as she tried to distance herself from the smell. It wasn’t enough. A second tiny inhale. Her chest rose and fell, a fish out of water. Shallow. Gasping.
Merrick pulled her to a second stall. Another horse within, more chestnut than ruddy but with his own prominent white blaze. It was a leggy thing, very tall.
Margot placed a hand over her heart, hoping to steady it. She pulled subtly at her collar, seeking air. A flush rose on the back of her neck.
Distressing. So very distressing.
“Merrick,” she panted.
“What do you think of him?” he asked, oblivious.
Her eyes latched onto the horse.Remembering.
“Strong,” she managed.
She flinched, recalling in exquisite clarity the blunt force of hooves against her temple, how hard the fall had been. She began to sweat.
Merrick narrowed his eyes. “Are you okay?”
“It’s warm,” she gasped.
“You’re rather pale.” He stepped closer, and suddenly, there were two Merricks before her, wavering in her sight.
She reached for him, dots forming in her vision. She was going down. She only hoped the horse wouldn’t get her, hurt her, when she went.
She didn’t want to be afraid, but she was.
She didn’t want to remember, but she did.
“Merrick?”
“Margot!”
She fell into darkness.
Margot’s eyes fluttered open to dim light and a faint scattering of dust motes. The air smelled heavily of hay and musk. A horse whinnied nearby, and she instinctively thrust her arms up to protect her head.
Please, don’t hurt me,she silently begged. She cracked open an eyelid, looking for Elijah. She had to get to him, help him. She struggled to get up. “Eli?”
“Margot?”
There was a man beside her. A man with tawny eyes. Worried eyes.
Not Eli.
