He didn't know, of course, that his houseguest was an expert at safe-breaking. What Guillaume hadn't taught her, Fouche's policemen had.

Chapter 7

Jake struggled with his tears as he watched Milner lead Black Rob from the stable. The pony was enormous- twice the size of Jake's Shetland that he'd been tiding for the past two years. But Milner said he had to learn to ride a proper pony; his father had -aid so. But every time Milner put him in the saddle, Jake froze with terror and the tears would pour down lis face however hard he tried to stop them.

"Now then, Master Jake, no tears today," Milner said with rough kindliness. " 'Is lordship's goin' to want to 'ear ye've been riding Black Rob like a regular trooper."

Jake stepped backward as the pony snorted, rolling his lips back over big yellow teeth.

" 'Ere, give 'im a piece of apple." Milner held out half an apple to the boy. "Put in on the palm of yer 'and, lad, and 'old it up to 'im. Gentle as a lamb, 'e is. He'll just snuffle it off smooth as you please."

Jake shook his head and sniffed. Then he took the apple and tentatively held out his hand toward the fiercesome lips. The pony's head bent and his rubbery lips parted. At the last minute Jake snatched his hand away and the apple fell to the cobbles. Black Rob calmly dropped his head and cropped the fruit from the ground.

"Oh, dear," Milner said, sighing. "What d'you go an' do that fer?"

"I'm sorry," Jake whispered miserably. "It fell off my hand."

Milner shook his head. "Well, up ye go, an' try to be a brave boy this time. We'll just walk once around the paddock."

He lifted the child's rigid form and ensconced him in the saddle. Jake was as white as a sheet as he clutched frantically at the pommel of the saddle and stared down at the ground, such a dizzying distance away.

It was at this point that his father and the Comtesse de Beaucaite entered the yard, returning from their afternoon ride.

"Come on, now, Master Jake," Milner said in an urgent undertone. "Show 'is lordship what ye can do." He started to lead the pony around the yard and Jake wailed, unable to help himself as his perch rocked and he could see himself tumbling to the ground beneath the pony's great iron-shod hooves.

"What on earth's the matter?" Nathaniel, still on his rat-tailed gray, rode over to him. "Why are you crying, Jake?"

Jake couldn't answer. The tears poured down his ashen cheeks and he clung desperately to the pommel.

"E's a bit frightened, my lord," Milner explained. "Seein' as 'ow Rob 'ere's quite a bit bigger than the Shetland. Takes a bit o' gettin' used to is all."

"He's terrified," Gabrielle said. "Poor little mite."

"Now, don't be silly, Jake," Nathaniel said briskly. "There's nothing to be afraid of. Sit up straight, you look like a sack of potatoes. Let go of the pommel and press your knees into the saddle."

The instructions had no effect except to increase the child's silent stream of tears.

"Take him up with you," Gabrielle suggested in a low voice. "He has to get used to being so high up. He'll feel safe in front of you and he'll start to relax."

"Don't be absurd," Nathaniel said. "He's nearly seven. He's quite big enough to handle a pony of ten hands without being babied."

"Some people are frightened of horses," Gabrielle pointed out. "I don't understand why, but I think they're born that way. He can't help it." Before Nathaniel could respond, she moved Thunderer alongside Black Rob and scooped Jake off the pony's back and into the saddle in front of her.

"Come on, Jake, we'll go for a ride on Thunderer. He's much bigger than your pony, but I won't let you fall."

Nathaniel stared for an instant of disbelieving astonishment as Gabrielle walked her horse across the yard toward the gate to the paddock.

"Beggin' yer pardon, m'lord, but 'er ladyship might 'ave a point," Milner said. "At me wits end, I've been, sir, try in' to get Master Jake used to the pony, but fair petrified 'e is. Mebbe this'll do the trick."

Nathaniel made no answer, but trotted his horse after Thunderer.

Jake lost his terrified rigidity as he felt the steady, warm pressure of Gabrielle's body against his back. When she told him to take the reins, he did so. Her hands covered his, guiding his movements as he directed the big horse in a circle around the paddock.

"Are you ready to trot?" Gabrielle asked.

Jake swallowed and nodded bravely. Obeying instruction, he nudged the gigantic gelding with his heels and the horse with a reinforcing signal from Gabrielle broke into a steady trot.

Grimly, Nathaniel kept pace with them. He too angry and discomfited by Gabriel’s assumption of control to say anything, but he watched his son throughout this unorthodox lesson, noticing that Jake knew perfectly well how to ride, and once he relaxed, his posture improved. It was inconceivable to Nathaniel that his son should be frightened of horses. He himself had attended his first hunt at the age of eight and had basked in his father's rare approval when it came to horsemanship. Gabrielle had the same natural skills and fearlessness. Unlike Nathaniel, however, she didn't seem to think there was anything out of the ordinary about Jake's fear.

It was galling and yet, reluctantly, Nathaniel had to admit that her method showed some measure of success. Jake wasn't enjoying himself, but he'd stopped crying and was able to concentrate again on the fundamental techniques of horsemanship.

"Now, how about riding your own pony?" Gabrielle suggested when they'd cantered once around the paddock, Jake hanging on for dear life, white-faced but determinedly silent. "You'll find it's nowhere near as high up as Thunderer. Won't he, Nathaniel?"

"I should imagine so," Nathaniel said in frigid tones, turning his horse back to the stableyard.

Jake looked anxiously up over his shoulder at Gabrielle, who returned a reassuring smile, although she was beginning to realize how high-handed and presumptuous her behavior must seem to Nathaniel.

Back in the stableyard, she swung Jake down to the waiting groom and then dismounted herself. "Would you like me to lead your pony, Jake?"

"That's Milner's job," Nathaniel stated curtly. He lifted Jake onto the back of Black Rob. "Take the reins and put your feet in the stirrups." The instructions were brisk, but his hands were gentle enough as they straightened the child's back and slipped his small feet into the stirrups.

"How does that feel?"

Jake just nodded stiffly, his mouth set tight. "Take him to the paddock, Milner." Nathaniel stepped back and the groom took hold of the pony's bridle. He clicked his tongue against his teeth and the animal walked on, his small rider rigid in the saddle, but so far dry-eyed and silent.

Nathaniel and Gabrielle watched for a minute, then Nathaniel said, "Come into the house."

He walked ahead of her with a long, impatient stride, and she followed, bracing herself for his anger.

Nathaniel didn't waste any time. He closed the library door with a sharp click and demanded, "Just what gave you the right to interfere, Gabrielle?"

"Well, nothing, really," she said, drawing off her gloves. "And I'm sorry if you thought that was what I was doing. But it seemed to me that you weren't going about it right." Tactless! But it was said now.

"How I choose to handle myson is my business," Nathaniel declared, a white shade around his mouth, his lips thinned. "He's timid and overprotected and he has to learn how to overcome his fear and I will not, I repeat not, tolerate the interference of a managing busybody who has no right whatsoever to presume any authority in my household."

It was worse than she'd expected. She'd been perfectly prepared to apologize, but this humiliating castigation was too much to endure in meek silence.