"Look at her, Genevieve!" Arthur shouted. "She runs like the wind today!"
"She runs like a demon!" Genevieve shouted back. She walked down the steps, her hips swaying. She pretended to be angry, but her eyes were dancing with amusement. "You will break your neck, husband! And then who will be with me? Who will read to Delaney?"
Arthur pulled on the reins. The horse slowed to a trot, then a walk, coming to a halt right in front of Genevieve. The horse was breathing hard, its coat shining with sweat.
Arthur looked down at his wife. His face was flushed with joy. He looked like a king, even without a crown.
"I will not break my neck," Arthur said, leaning down from the saddle. "I have too much to live for."
"You are reckless," Genevieve scolded. She reached up and patted the horse's nose. "You treat this beast better than you treat yourself. You are not wearing your hat. The sun will bake your brain."
"My brain is already baked," Arthur teased. "Baked by your beauty, my love."
