Between the Raindrops

Trust Me, Darlin'

Arthur helped tack Bella and secured the heavy bags and their precious cargo, working quickly in silence, focused. When he came around to lift her to the saddle, Emelia stopped him. A hand over his heart and the other resting against his cheek.

"Thank you, Arthur," she said, taking a moment to stare up into his blue eyes before rising on the tips of her toes. Arthur bent to meet her. Her hands slid up his firm chest, past the thick neckerchief hanging so loose and found the opening of his collar and Emelia laid her fingers along the graceful column of his warm throat. Arthur practically purred under her cautious touch and Emelia smiled against his lips.

They broke reluctantly and Arthur lifted her easily to the saddle. He aided her in adjusting her riding skirt, so it draped prettily on Bella's flanks, and smiled up at her.

"All set, my lady."

It was early April and the moon was but a dark inky shadow in the sky. They left Blackwater and the electric lights behind them, riding off into the cool, clear night. Emelia worried still, about her riding, and her attention remained firmly on the road ahead of Bella and the golden light cast by the little glass lantern Arthur carried. After an hour, as they crested a hill and Blackwater could no longer be seen, Arthur snuffed out the light.

"Arthur?" she asked, startled. She looked to him for an answer.

He said nothing. Just tipped his head to the sky. Then her eyes adjusted and she noticed it was not dark at all and Emelia lost her breath. The great yawning vastness over their heads turned a midnight blue to match the depths of a royal sapphire and the stars, oh, the stars! Gathered thick as a stream across the sky.

No false light. No one for miles...

She sensed the sidling of Boadicea, heard the soft thudding somewhere far away and instinctively Emelia reached for Arthur and felt his rough, warm hand envelop hers. Just them and their horses, the sky and earth. She gazed at that glittering immensity, feeling so very small, and yet empowered to do great things. Good things.

Emelia sighed. "I wish I could take a picture of this."

"I know," Arthur replied.

Emelia looked at Arthur, hand still gripped within his own and found him gazing at her. His simple smile charmingly askew. Emelia blushed and averted her gaze, still uncertain how to respond adequately to such clear ardor. She tightened her grip on his fingers. Boadicea sidestepped closer still and Arthur stood in his stirrups. Pulling her hand to his chest, Arthur leaned across the tiny chasm between their mares, over her and kissed her. Oh, how he kissed. All warm and lingering like a shot of whiskey and deceivingly chaste. Emelia licked her lips with a contented little hum as he settled back into his seat.

Why had she ever worried that the demands of her practice would preclude anything like this? Here they were, riding to a house call in the dark pre-dawn and Arthur managed to carve out a timeless moment from nothing.

They continued at a clipping pace after that, making excellent time. Eventually they came to that same gorge, the one that cut near the poppy meadow, only now they descended the rocky path, winding their way to the waterway below. They crossed the river, the water frothing around the horses and splashing up on Emelia's face and she allowed Bella a little more rein, trusting the little mare to keep her footing and to follow old Boadicea through the current. They started back up the other side, between copses of trees when she heard a chilling sound from the shadows.

"Hold it right there," called a deep voice.

Arthur drew to a stop and Emelia followed suit though Belladonna whinnied and crept nervously.