Too Late for Forgiveness
"Are you having fun?"
"It's alright. I'm only brave enough for a slow trot. Not ready to fly yet."
"Coward," he teased, then swung up behind her in one smooth motion.
His warm hands settled at her waist, drawing her back into his arms. "Don't worry. I'll ride with you."
With a gentle nudge of his heel, the horse began to move—first a trot, then picking up speed.
Serena's initial tension, as she instinctively grasped his arm, soon melted away, replaced by radiant excitement. After a few circuits, Wilson guided the horse to a halt. "Was it fun?"