Liability

It was not an insane man that dismounted and squatted to help Cate out of the sand, though at first she thought it was. His face was altogether too smiley--disconcertingly smiley--and she initially wondered what fool had ever allowed him to get on a horse. Still, she thanked him. Probably more heartily than she would have had she not thought him out of his mind.

“It must have taken a lot of effort for a person like you,” she said. He looked puzzled then--smilingly puzzled--but simply nodded and, after seeing her safely back into the saddle, turned to remount.

“How did you manage to come off?”

She realized with dismay that he had assumed he had the right to speak to her now. “I lost my stirrup, Mr.--?”

“Thorpe.”

“Uh, yes--Mr. Thorpe, and lost my balance shortly after that.”

“Shortly after what?”

“Shortly after my stirrup.”

“Oh, yes. Of course.” He was grinning as though his grandmother’s life depended on it. How nightmarish. She inclined her head with a slight smile of her own, then clucked to her dainty chestnut mare, keeping her eyes ahead but gloating over the distance that opened between herself and the man. Mr. Thorpe. The smiling fury. The cheshire man. She laughed out loud at that one.

“Something funny?” The man was calling to her. She put on her best plastic smile and prepared to turn. The man was calling to her, and she lost her balance again.

“You all right?” He was at her side again, slap-happy as ever. The indignity of it was almost too much for her, but she forced herself to take the hand he offered and began brushing the sand from her breeches. She considered telling him she had an earache. She had heard that sometimes caused a loss of balance. She wondered if perhaps she did have an earache. She had been riding Mona Lisa for two years and had never fallen before at a simple trot.

“I’m perfectly healthy, Mr. Thorpe.” She wanted to bite her tongue off as she heard the words slide out of her mouth. “What I meant to say was, that I--”

“Well you won’t stay healthy if you continue to take dives from sixteen hands.” His grin was maddening, truly. Even his horse looked overjoyed.

“I appreciate your concern, Mr. Thorpe, but I really--”

“And you are?”

“Cate. No. Foster. Cate Foster.”

“Well, Ms. Foster, you are very welcome.”

He was accepting her gratitude. This frustrating man was smiling like a bloody circus clown and acknowledging the credit she had supposedly given him. She was incredulous. She was haughty. She was more disoriented than she had ever been. She allowed him to guide her to Mona Lisa’s side and give her a leg up onto the mare’s sturdy back.

She watched as he strolled cheerily back to his horse. He caught her watching and waved at her. Despite all his merriness Mr. Thorpe was a very ugly man. He was also by and large the most attractive man she had ever met. And on top of all that, she was beginning to get an earache.