Not My Brute (Angels of War Series #2)

Chapter Eleven

The horse lorry bumbles down the cobbled road leading to the seafront. Emilia bounces in her seat, giggling at the top of her lungs, eyes glued outside at the passing scenery. I take my foot off the accelerator to give the horses a more comfortable ride over the speed bumps. The pots and pans in the kitchenette clatter, some spilling onto the floor.

"It's like a rollercoaster," Emilia says, putting her arms into the air.

I laugh. "I'm not sure the horses will see it that way. Can you check them on the monitor, honey?"

Emilia reaches forward, stretching her seat belt to the max as she watches the horses from the tv screen on the dashboard. She giggles. "Toffee is biting Buster."

All is well then.

"Sit back in your seat, Emmy," I say, bracing for the big pothole coming up.

The lorry tips to the side and then rights itself, the sands and seawater visible over the bridge of the hill. I thank the car that waits back to let me squeeze through the carpark entrance, spinning the lorry around, so the backend faces the beach. When the engine turns off, Emilia opens the cabby door and slides down the long drop to the ground.

"Mind the road," I shout after her.

She shouts back. "I will!"

Collecting the keys and my water bottle, I jump out of the lorry and make tracks to the ramp. Emilia is trying her hardest to unhook the bolts, but they're far too heavy for her.

I take over, asking her to stand to the side so the ramp doesn't crush her when I lower it. The metal crunches and clicks when the ramp comes down, hitting the floor with a soft thud.

"I'll get my riding helmet on," Emilia says, opening the side door to climb into the living space of the horse lorry.

I raise my eyebrow. "Body protector too, little miss."

I hear her, "Aw," and then, "Okay."

We already saddled the horses up, so I lead Toffee out first, removing the head collar secured around her bridle and twiddle her reins, leading her down the ramp to meet a grinning Emilia at the bottom.

I check over her hat and protector to make sure she's safe, letting her pull down the stirrups. "Do you want me to leg you up? Or should I get the mounting block?"

"Leg up," she says, collecting her reins in one hand, other holding the top of the saddle.

I take hold of her bent leg and gently lift her so she can swing her leg over the horse. Once I know she's comfortable and ready to go, I grab buster, lock up the lorry and tighten the girth before I mount from the floor.

The sand is hard and wet when we get onto the beach, the horses already jogging and snorting in the open space. I tell Emilia to keep close to me as we head out to the water's edge.

"Can we gallop?" she asks, always so eager to live life on the edge.

I smile. "We'll see."

Emilia sits up straight in the saddle. "And, jump over the bits of lost logs?"

"We can trot over them."

The smile on her face goes on for miles. "Yes!"

I'd usually let the horses have a longer rein when warming them up, but there's something about the beach that stops me. It's an open space with one hell of a draft. It spooks them, and I'm not about to put us in danger.

The wind whips around her face. "Can we trot now?"

I nudge the sides of my feet into Buster's girth, keeping a soft grip on the bit. "Yeah, tell me if he gets too strong for you."