Page 23 of The Dravenhearst Brides

Babs,

My secret recipe, as requested. Though I hardly foresee a reason you’ll ever make these without me!

- Fill a highball glass with ice

- Top with (chilled) club soda

- Pinch of salt

- Garnish with one lime wheel

Yours,

Ruth

When he asked, Margot was on her third gin rickey of the day. She was downright giddy and giggly, very much not herself. That was how he got her to agree.

It was dusk, and she was hand-in-hand with Merrick, headed for the stables.

Margot liked the feel of his fingers bound with hers.

He was rubbing the back of her knuckles with the pad of his thumb, making tiny circles, and her world narrowed to that single contact point.

The buzzing hum of the evening katydids droned around them, fuzzy and soothing.

“Looks like rain overnight.” Merrick eyed the clouds. “We’ll hurry. I only want to introduce you to Fox and Omaha. We’ll be back to the manor before it storms.”

“Fox?” She giggled, her head pleasantly light. Surely, anything named Fox couldn’t be harmful. Foxes were tiny and cute, with pointed ears and whiskers.

“Yes, Fox. He won the Triple Crown three years ago,” Merrick explained. “We retired him right after, turned him into a stud horse. Ruth thinks we’ll make a good run for the Derby next spring with Omaha. He’s still a bit green, but he’s got Fox’s stride and speed.”

Merrick continued to chatter, full of excitement, and Margot nodded along. She was caught off-guard when they arrived at the stables. For a moment, she’d forgotten where they were headed.

Julian was exiting as they prepared to enter.

“Mrs. Dravenhearst,” he said, his lips curling in a slow grin.

Margot was not above admitting he was quite handsome, particularly when he smiled like that, all dark hair and dimples.

And that deep Kentucky drawl. “Well now, isn’t this a pleasant surprise. ”

“Margot,” she corrected, smiling back.

“And Merrick,” her husband reminded, frowning with bemusement. “Just introducing Margot to Fox and Omaha. You headed home, Julian?”

“I am.” He nodded toward the vicinity of Hellebore House and the woods.

Perhaps he lived on the fringes of the estate like Ruth.

Margot had yet to fully explore the grounds.

“The horses are secured for the night. I reckon a storm is rollin’ in—you two best hurry.

” With a cheeky wink at Margot, Julian departed.

“Come on, we’ll be quick,” Merrick said, tugging her hand.

Inside the stable, the smell of hay and horse was everywhere. She wrinkled her nose and held her breath, trying to keep the scent of manure at bay.

Merrick was talking, and she registered Fox’s name several times as they approached a stall holding a towering, muscled bay stallion with a stark white blaze down his snout. He stomped his front hoof and nickered as Merrick approached.

Margot didn’t like this, didn’t like it one bit. Her heart rate ticked up. She couldn’t make out Merrick’s words; his lips were moving, but her ears were stuffed with cotton. Her mouth too, terribly dry.

She took a tiny inhale, just enough oxygen for subsistence as she tried to distance herself from the smell. It wasn’t enough. A second tiny inhale. Her chest rose and fell, a fish out of water. Shallow. Gasping.

Merrick pulled her to a second stall. Another horse within, more chestnut than ruddy but with his own prominent white blaze. It was a leggy thing, very tall.

Margot placed a hand over her heart, hoping to steady it. She pulled subtly at her collar, seeking air. A flush rose on the back of her neck.

Distressing. So very distressing.

“Merrick,” she panted.

“What do you think of him?” he asked, oblivious.

Her eyes latched onto the horse. Remembering.

“Strong,” she managed.

She flinched, recalling in exquisite clarity the blunt force of hooves against her temple, how hard the fall had been. She began to sweat.

Merrick narrowed his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“It’s warm,” she gasped.

“You’re rather pale.” He stepped closer, and suddenly, there were two Merricks before her, wavering in her sight.

She reached for him, dots forming in her vision. She was going down. She only hoped the horse wouldn’t get her, hurt her, when she went.

She didn’t want to be afraid, but she was.

She didn’t want to remember, but she did.

“Merrick?”

“Margot!”

She fell into darkness.

Margot’s eyes fluttered open to dim light and a faint scattering of dust motes. The air smelled heavily of hay and musk. A horse whinnied nearby, and she instinctively thrust her arms up to protect her head.

Please, don’t hurt me, she silently begged. She cracked open an eyelid, looking for Elijah. She had to get to him, help him. She struggled to get up. “Eli?”

“Margot?”

There was a man beside her. A man with tawny eyes. Worried eyes.

Not Eli.

She couldn’t focus. She shoved the stranger aside, searching desperately for her brother. She’d seen him fall. She’d seen the horse towering over him before she’d been struck. Had heard the hoofbeats. She had to save him. She was the only one who could save him.

“Margot!”

Hands latched onto her arms, restraining her. Gentle yet firm. She traced them up to their owner. Golden and warm…bourbon eyes.

Merrick.

Though her heart continued to thunder, her mind slowed. She wasn’t at Greenbrier with Elijah; she was at Dravenhearst Manor with Merrick. She was…

Margot looked around in confusion, saw the looming silhouette of a chestnut stallion over Merrick’s shoulder.

Why in heckin’ hell was she in the stables?

As she wiggled to rise, she realized the straps of her dress had been yanked down, exposing her chest and chemise.

“I’m sorry,” Merrick murmured, looking away. “You were breathing strangely. I loosened it to try to help.”

“It’s fine.” She made no move to cover the top of her exposed chemise. She was still feeling flushed.

“I’m going to get help, Ruth or Julian.” Merrick stood. “I didn’t want to leave while you were unconscious.”

“Don’t go,” she said, reaching for him. “I’m fine.

I’m sorry. I’m fine, really.” She nearly choked on the lie.

It tasted like the straw littering the stable floor, dry and coarse.

She simply couldn’t bear to be left alone with the horses, and she wasn’t certain her wobbly legs would hold her if she tried to flee.

“You don’t look fine.”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him back to his knees. “Stay.”

“What happened?”

“I just…started feeling strange all of a sudden. I told you, this happens occasionally.” Actually, the more she looked around and breathed in the strong smell of horse, the more her claustrophobia returned. She closed her eyes against the onslaught, but then she heard a whinny.

Her eyes popped open, bulging. “I need to leave.”

She tried to stand, legs trembling. Merrick’s arms closed around her, forcing her down. “You just need to rest for a moment.”

“No. I need to leave,” she repeated. “Now.”

His arms encircled her again, and she began to panic in earnest.

“Let me go!” she cried, clawing at his hold. Even as she fought, her legs buckled. Her neck pulsed with heat, and the room began to tunnel.

“Margot, stop!”

“Merrick,” she gasped, desperate for air. “Take me out of here. Out. Now.” Her heart thudded explosively in her chest, and not enough oxygen, no amount of gulping breaths, could calm her.

She felt like she was going to die.

“Out,” she barked, the single word harsh, expelled with a shuddering exhale. Her next breath hitched on the back of the last. And then the next. And the next.

He must not have liked the noise she was making, because he finally listened. Merrick scooped her up, tucking her against his chest. “Where?”

“Out,” was all she could manage. She closed her eyes and buried her face in his shirt. Her next breath was filled with the smell of man. Smoky leather and oak-laden musk. She inhaled again, sucking down his scent like a woman possessed, filling her nostrils and her brain with it.

He smells like cedar and bourbon, she realized. Like the rickhouses.

The barn door opened with a whining creak. Then came the squelch of sticky evening air. The katydids buzzed loudly.

Merrick. Merrick. Merrick. She chanted his name in rhythm with his steps. Her heart slowed to match the tempo. Her hitching breaths gradually quieted, turning to soft, shuddering inhales.

Merrick’s arms were taut and solid around her, so large they made her feel small.

He kicked open the paddock gate and strode into the middle of the empty pasture.

Finally, he came to a stop and laid her down in a patch of thick green grass.

He grunted softly as he released her, his breath warm on the crown of her head.

Margot dug her fingers into the grass. She ripped out a handful and held it to her nose, breathing deep. In the absence of his overwhelming warmth and scent, she needed to be grounded by something tactile to banish the smell of horse from her mind.

Merrick watched her, wary.

She took a second sniff of grass, releasing an anxious noise, halfway between a sob and a laugh.

He sat beside her and rumpled his hair. His gaze darted sidelong to her, then away. To her, away. He was nervous, possibly afraid of her. Afraid of what she’d just done, showed him. Shame rushed in.

A tendency toward hysteria, the voices of a half dozen physicians burned her ears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She’d never wanted him to see it, how damaged she was.

“What the hell happened back there?” His words were demanding, but his manner wasn’t. His eyes were wide, overflowing with concern. “Margot, one minute you were there with me, and the next, you weren’t. And then you were…you were fighting me like a wild barn cat.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, feeling as small as an eight-year-old child. Now that she was out in the night air, exposed and illuminated by the soft light of the rising moon, she felt horrifically embarrassed.

“I’m waiting for an explanation,” he said. Again, harsh words. But when she risked a glance at him, she saw tremendous softness in his eyes. She’d scared him. He was worried.

It was his overwhelming concern, concern in a place where she expected judgment, that unburdened her. She hadn’t spoken of Elijah to anyone in years, had especially never spoken of what happened. Not beyond the initial recounting to her parents.

“I told you I didn’t ride horses,” she murmured, casting her eyes downward. “That was a lie. I used to ride all the time, and I was quite good. But I don’t anymore. I don’t…I can’t be around horses. Not after what happened to my brother.”

“Elijah?”

Margot’s mouth went dry. How did he know?

“I’ve heard you say his name,” Merrick said. “You said it just now in the stables. And I…I saw his gravestone at Greenbrier. His birthday is the same as yours.” He didn’t say what else he must have seen, Eli’s death date.

“Yes, we are—were—twins.”

He waited, digging his own fingers into the grass now. Fisting tightly.

“When we were fourteen, we went out riding together. We rode almost every day. We…” She swallowed. “He challenged me to a race.”

His voice came to her, clear as day. “Margot, catch me!”

She was transported. Her lips formed the words, she heard them echoing in the night, as the scene played out before her eyes.

Elijah, streaking ahead on Cerberus, his dapple gray mount. His laugh carried by the wind to her ears. She hunched low over her mare, tucking in her knees and urging her to give chase. The sun caught her eyes, momentarily blinding her.

That was when it happened.

Margot saw a flicker in the grass. Cerberus did too.

It was a copperhead, one that raised its head and hissed.

Elijah’s stallion jolted to a stop. Rearing, bucking.

Her brother was thrown into the air. A scream rent apart the morning.

To this day, she knew not whether the scream was Elijah’s or hers.

That was how it had always been between them—Margot had never quite known where she ended and her brother began.

They were two halves of a whole. Two bodies, one soul.

Until suddenly, they weren’t.

Margot slid off her mount as her brother tumbled to the ground, landing beside Cerberus’s hooves. She sensed what was going to happen. She darted forward, knowing only she could prevent it, but she wasn’t fast enough. Cerberus’s hooves stomped down directly on the middle of Elijah’s spine.

She would hear the resounding crack in her nightmares for years to come.

Margot continued to move, eyes only on her brother. Her twin. She didn’t see Cerberus’s rear leg kick, but she felt it when it slammed into her temple. She went down hard.

Head spinning.

Eyes blurring.

Heart breaking.