Joan Wolf - White Horses

Stop, he thought.

But it had been a long time since he had had a woman. Too long, he thought. That’s why he was reacting to this circus girl, he reasoned.

“All right,” Gabrielle said, and he turned around. She was wearing the same long nightgown as the night before, and her hair was loose around her shoulders and down her back. She had a brush in her hand, and as he watched she went over to the bed, sat on the edge of it and began to brush her hair.

He watched, fascinated, as the silken strands slid through the brush. “You have beautiful hair.” The words were out before he could stop them.

“Thank you,” she said, clearly surprised.

He cleared his throat. “Well, if you will lend me a blanket, I will bunk down on this rug.”

She stopped brushing and looked at him. “You don’t have to do that. You can share the bed with me—as long as you keep to your side.”

He stared at her in astonishment. “Are you sure?”

“I am sure, but you must understand, Leo, that I am not inviting you to take liberties with me. I am simply allowing you to have a comfortable place to sleep.” She looked at the rug. “That rug doesn’t look too clean.”

He looked at the bed. It was an ordinary double bed, the kind that a married couple would share comfortably. But they were not a married couple. He thought about what it would mean to lie so close beside her.

I might get more sleep on the floor.

But the rug definitely did look dirty. And the floor looked hard.

“All right,” he said. “Thank you.”

She nodded. “Is there a side that you particularly like? André always had to sleep on the left side of the bed.”

“No,” he said. “Either side is fine with me.”

“Bon. You can have the left side, then. I am used to having the right.”

He walked barefoot to the bed, feeling huge in his white nightshirt. She looked so delicate and so beautiful as she sat there brushing her hair.

He got in under the covers and watched as she finished brushing and took a ribbon and tied her hair at the nape of her neck. She stood up, folded back the covers and slipped into bed beside him.

“This is awkward, no?” she asked.

“Very awkward,” he replied. He had to curl his legs because the dog took up the bottom of the bed.

“I am sorry that we seemed to denigrate your countrymen tonight,” she said. “We of the Robichon circus tend to be very proud of the quality of our riding.”

“So I gathered,” he said. “This disguise of you being my husband is very difficult,” she said. “You saw tonight how astonished everyone was that I would marry a man who is not a good rider.”

Leo sat up. “Wait a minute. Who said I wasn’t a good rider?”

She looked up at him. “I don’t mean to insult you, Leo….”

“Well you do insult me,” he said hotly. “I’ll have you know that I am a bloody good rider. You and your friends may know some circus tricks that I don’t know, but…”

She also sat bolt upright. “Circus tricks! I am not talking about circus tricks! I’ll bet you can’t even ride a horse in shoulder-in.”

“What the hell is shoulder-in?”

“Hah!” she cried. “Shoulder-in is the most basic training tool of all classical riding. And you haven’t even heard of it!”

Why am I even arguing with this girl? He forced himself to calm down. “This is pointless,” he said. “We should get some sleep.”

“Certainly,” she said. “There is no point in arguing with you. You are too ignorant.”

It took all his discipline not to reply.

“Turn out the light,” she said, then turned her back on him, pulled the covers up over her shoulders and shut her eyes.

She was giving him orders again. He set his jaw, leaned over to the lamp and turned it off. Her voice came through the darkness.

“Good night.”

“Good night,” he replied.

Silence fell on the room. He was acutely aware of her sleeping but two feet away from him. Under the same blankets. She breathed so lightly he could scarcely hear her. His pulse was racing from the argument, he told himself. This is going to be a long night.

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