Seeking Persephone by Sarah M. Eden Page B

chosen Atlas as his name. The gelding moved as though he bore the entire heavens on his shoulders.
    Atlas’s one drawback was size. Standing more than fifteen hands high, Atlas might be too large for Persephone, especially considering her lack of experience. But Adam was certain there were no ponies in the stables. And many of the others, Alibi for instance, were not as large but hadn’t the temperament for an unskilled rider.
    “Fiend seize it,” Adam growled. Why was it that Persephone constantly presented him with situations for which he had no solution? Adam was not accustomed to being at a loss.
    “He’s calm an’ steady, Yer Grace,” John said to Persephone, still smiling like a besotted calfling.
    Adam thought he heard Persephone take a deep breath, as if to calm herself, before making her way into the paddock. Was she nervous? Horses could sense discomfort, and it made them nervous in return. Adam grew evermore uncertain about Persephone’s plan.
    Atlas shimmied a little as Persephone approached. She stopped, stiff and watching.
    “He’ll not hurt you.” John encouraged Persephone on.
    Adam wondered if she would continue on. Most likely, Persephone would bow out of the whole thing and skitter off. People, in general, were cowards.
    “Can I give him a carrot?” Persephone asked John uncertainly.
    “’Ave you got a carrot?”
    Her eyes never left Atlas. “I brought one from the kitchens.” She patted her coat pocket.
    Adam realized, watching her, that Persephone was not dressed for riding. Where was her habit? Her riding whip? The bonnet she was wearing would not stay on should Atlas give her much of a jarring. “Ridiculous,” Adam mumbled, but for once he didn’t turn away from something he found absurd. Something in him wanted to know if she would mount, if she would see through what she’d set out to accomplish.
    “The Uptons’ pony was fond of carrots,” Persephone further explained.
    “Perhaps the poor thing waddled so much because he was overfed,” Harry called out with a chuckle.
    Persephone glanced back at him and smiled her amusement, the first true smile Adam had ever seen from his wife. It was perfect: lovely, straight, white teeth, mouth turned up symmetrically, no scars to cause grotesque pulls and puckering in her face. It was the sort of smile a man ought to be in raptures over. But Adam only felt an overwhelming frustration at seeing yet another reason why Persephone was not at all what he’d wanted in a bride.
    She was laughing, and the sound pulled Adam from his thoughts.
    “He didn’ nip you, did he?” John asked.
    “Not at all.” Persephone still flashed that radiant smile. “Only surprised me.”
    “If you don’t want him snapping food from your hands, don’t bring any with you.”
    “I will remember that, thank you, Harry.” Persephone seemed to roll her eyes. Adam nodded his approval of her response: useless advice ought to be dismissed.
    “’E’ll be calmer while he’s eating.” John motioned with his head toward the saddle and mounting block already in place.
    Persephone hesitated. She eyed Atlas with obvious apprehension.
    She was going to back down, Adam was certain of it. He shook his head. One didn’t shrink from challenges, one faced them head-on.
    Adam pushed away from the paddock fence. “If she and Atlas part company, see to it that John has her brought up to the castle,” Adam mumbled to Harry and began walking away.
    “Don’t you even want to see her try?” The chastisement in Harry’s words was too pointed for Adam’s taste.
    “She is backing down already. I have seen enough people quit in my lifetime without witnessing the same thing again.” Adam heard the tinge of bitterness in his voice and hated it.
    “I think she might surprise you.”
    Adam continued to walk away. But, only a few steps later, he found himself slowing his pace. Then, almost against his will, Adam looked back.
    Persephone was on the mounting block, listening