Dawn In My Heart. Ruth Morren Axtell
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Who taught you?”
“My father. We often rode together.”
“Do you know anything of horseflesh?”
She nodded again, surprised anew.
“Maybe I’ll take you to Tattersall’s with me. I’m looking to buy my own horse now I’m back in England. Everything in our stables is either Father’s or Edmund’s.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Gillian spied a movement on her side of the road. She craned her neck to see around the coach passing them at that moment.
A dog dashed into the street to avoid a man’s whip. Without thinking, she grabbed Skylar’s arm. “Stop the carriage!”
“What the—” he began, as his pair pranced at the sudden jerk to the reins. Not waiting to find out what she’d caused, Gillian jumped out of the curricle before it had come to a complete stop.
“Lady Gillian!” She heard his sharp command, but she paid it no heed. She dodged traffic and ran toward the dog. Just before a coach ran it over, Gillian lunged at the dog and grabbed its neck.
Hearing the neighing of horses almost on top of her, she dragged the dog back with her.
“What are you thinking of doing, old fellow?” she crooned into its ear as her hands patted his neck, afraid to let it go. “You could have gotten yourself killed. We couldn’t have that. No indeed! There. You come back off the road with me.” As she reached the edge of the street, she noticed the crowd around her. Astounded faces ringed her.
“Miss, are you all right? You almost got run over. If the coachman hadn’t stopped in time—”
Not removing her hand from the dog, still feeling its trembling beneath her fingertips, she realized the full extent of the situation. Coming from behind the onlookers was Lord Skylar, his jaw set.
The crowd parted for him and he came straight to her.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. Before he could say anything more, she turned to look for the man who had caused the commotion, as far as she was concerned. He stood behind a table, selling trinkets.
She marched toward him. “How dare you, sir! Taking a whip to a poor, defenseless dog. You should be whipped yourself.”
The man looked at her in astonishment. “Why—why, that cur’s been pestering me. It’s a worthless stray. Ought to be taken out of its misery.”
Her outrage knew no bounds. “I’ll have you reported. I’ll see you—” Before she could utter her threat, she felt Lord Skylar’s hand on her arm.
“The lady is understandably distressed with the near miss she had. Her nerves are overset—”
She opened her mouth at Lord Skylar’s cool tone. “My nerves! I’ll show you nerves.” Wrenching her arm from his grasp, she went in search of the dog. She found him cowering behind a stack of crates. “Come on, boy. Don’t be afraid.” She petted him, crouching down to his level once again. “We’ll take you away from this place, from that awful brute…”
“She means no disrespect,” she heard Skylar say to the vendor in a soothing tone. “Here, this should cover any damages. We’ll take the cur away from here.”
Then he was standing over her. “We’d better remove ourselves from the premises if we want to avoid a riot. The man’s an unemployed soldier. He’ll soon have the crowd on his side.”
“Come on, boy,” she coaxed the dog, her hand urging it forward. The dog was gazing at her with limpid brown eyes the color of topaz, and she fell in love with it.
She gave a last outraged glance at the man with the stall and only then noticed his missing leg, and the crutch he leaned against. She shuddered and turned in search of the curricle.
Lord Skylar pointed to where he had left it on the other side of the road, his tiger holding the reins. “We shall have to cross the street.”
Gillian looked at him expectantly.
“What is it?”
She motioned to the dog. “Aren’t you going to carry him? We mustn’t risk his getting run over again.”
She almost laughed at the expression on Lord Skylar’s face as he looked down at the dog.
With a lengthy sigh, he finally stooped down and lifted the dog in his arms.
“Don’t hurt him,” she begged Lord Skylar.
“I hope you’re addressing the dog and not me,” he said dryly.
With a doubtful look at the curricle’s immaculate interior, Skylar dumped the animal onto a rug on the floor. “We shall have to have the vehicle fumigated,” Skylar told his tiger.
“Yes, sir,” he answered, unable to aid his master as he held the horses.
After helping Gillian in, Lord Skylar climbed in, shoving the dog out of the way of his feet in the confined space. The dog whined pitifully.
“Be careful! He’s been mistreated enough.”
“I believe it’s a she, not a he,” he answered shortly as he took the reins from the groom and waited only long enough for the man to jump up in back before setting the carriage in motion.
He handed her his handkerchief with barely a glance. “You might want to wipe the dust from your face.”
“Oh—” She took it from him, wondering that he’d even noticed her face in the entire fray. She scrubbed at her cheeks.
“Where are we going?” she asked as she watched him turn into the park gates.
“We can drop the mutt in the park. Either that or drive back to Kensington. Perhaps I could bribe a farmer to take it off our hands.”
She twisted around in the tight space and glared at him. “We shall do no such thing. How do we know they will take care of it properly?” She laid her hand on his forearm, her outrage turning to entreaty.
“I would suggest, my lady, that you refrain from interfering with my driving a second time. If you did not cause an accident just now, or break your neck, I cannot guarantee your safety another time.”
She removed her hand. “Didn’t you see that man? What he was doing to this poor animal?”
“No, I was watching the traffic, a fact you can be thankful for. Otherwise, all three of us would probably have been thrown from the vehicle.”
Finally conceding the folly of her jump, she said, “I’m sorry for the suddenness of leaving the curricle, but the man was whipping this poor dog, and he—she’d—run into the street. In another second she would have been run over by that closed carriage.” Her voice broke at the thought of what might have happened. She sniffed into the large handkerchief, appalled at her reaction.
“Spare me from emotional women,” Lord Skylar muttered.
“At least I’m not being heartless!”
“Excuse me. Next time I’ll jump out alongside you with no thought for anyone else on the road.”
She ignored his sarcasm. “This dog needs medical attention. Look at that wound.” She bent over, noticing the gash from the whip. “Can’t you take her home with you and have your stableman look at her?”
It was his turn to look at her in outrage. “Home with me? That flea-ridden creature? For all we know, it’s rabid.”
She looked down at her knotted handkerchief. “I can’t—that is, Mother wouldn’t allow it into our house, not even into the stables. I—I’ve taken in some stray cats and keep them there, but Mama doesn’t even know about them. I don’t think I could keep a dog hidden for very long.”
Lord Skylar remained silent, but after a