“That was you?”
“I bought two yearlings from the next pen.”
She remembered a large man with a beard.
Not his face.
Only the feeling that someone was watching her.
“You noticed me.”
“Yes.”
“Three years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you speak to me?”
Gideon shrugged.
“You were surrounded by Whitmores.”
“What does that mean?”
“Your father looked like he'd charge admission.”
This time she did smile.
Only for a second.
Gideon saw it.
He did not celebrate.
Good.
He stepped toward the crate but not toward her.
“The saddle maker watched you ride twice after that.”
Abigail’s smile vanished.
“What?”
“I paid her to.”
“You had me observed?”
“When you say it that way, it sounds criminal.”
“It sounds strange.”
“It was strange.”
“At least you know.”
He rested one hand against the crate.
“She needed to understand your leg length, posture, and where you carry your balance.”
Abigail folded her arms.
“You could have asked.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you?”
Gideon looked directly at her.
“Because every time anyone mentioned horses around you, you went quiet.”
That landed differently.
Not what she expected.
He continued.
“I thought somebody had taken riding away from you.”
Abigail's throat tightened.
Gideon glanced at the saddle.
“I wanted to give it back.”
She looked down.
Another tear.
Damn him.
Gideon stepped closer, slowly enough for her to stop him.
She did not.
His thumb touched her cheek.
Wiped the tear.
Abigail closed her eyes for half a second.
His hand was rough.
Warm.
The gentleness felt almost unbearable.
He said:
“If you hate it, I'll send it back.”
Her eyes opened.
“You would?”
“Of course.”
“It must have cost—”
“That isn't your problem.”
“It is if we're married.”
Gideon’s mouth twitched.
“Already arguing over money.”
“Efficient marriage.”
“Apparently.”
She looked at the saddle.
“I don't hate it.”
He waited.
“I don't know what I feel.”
“That's allowed.”
Abigail ran her fingertips across the seat.
Soft leather.
No sharp ridge at the edge.
The stirrup fenders seemed shorter than standard.
Careful.
Thoughtful.
“You really designed this for me?”
“I paid people more skilled than I am to design it.”
“Better answer.”
“I learn quickly.”
She touched the silverwork.
Then turned toward him.
“You could have bought anything.”
“Yes.”
“Jewelry.”
“Yes.”
“China.”
“Yes.”
“A horse.”
He smiled.
“That's next.”
Her eyes widened.
“Gideon.”
“Joking.”
“Were you?”
“Mostly.”
She stared until his smile faded.
Then he looked at her wedding gown.
Not crudely.
Slowly.
With unmistakable appreciation.
Abigail felt her pulse change.
His gaze returned to her face.
“Besides.”
His voice lowered.