Hearing those words coming from Calhoun, it only made it harder for Madeline to mount on the horse as she was still trying to move her body higher; not to forget the way Calhoun watched her with the undivided attention of his.

While Madeline was stubborn to ask his help, Calhoun gave her a minute more before he got down from his horse and walked around, "Done trying?" he asked her.

Madeline had to agree to herself that she wouldn't be able to mount on the horse by herself as even if a day would pass by, she would still be struggling to get on the saddle. She turned her head to meet Calhoun's eyes. He took her silence that she had finally given up and was ready to take his help.

"Take your position," he ordered, coming to stand behind her while she placed one foot on the stirrup. She felt his hand being placed on either side of her waist, "Ready?" he asked, his words coming to fall right next to her ear. When she nodded her head, Calhoun pushed her up high enough for her to sit on the horse.

"Thank you," she murmured under her breath, her eyes glanced once at him before looking at the mare she was sitting on.

One side of Calhoun's lips had been pulled up, and he walked around before getting back on his own horse, "We will be taking a walk from here into the forest. I am guessing by your word that you can handle the horse?" he asked her one time, hinting that she could still come to sit with him, on the horse.

"I will be okay," answered Madeline, her eyes finally going to meet his and he smirked.

"If you say so," saying this, Calhoun patted his horse for it to start to walk, its hooves clicking on the ground and Madeline moved her legs for the mare to start walking, hoping it would only walk and wouldn't gallop. Horses were strange, thought Madeline to herself because some were gentle, and some were too wild to handle.

"Where did you learn to sit on the horse?" She looked up from her horse to see Calhoun, who was in the front.

"My aunt has four horses in her shed."

Madeline's family didn't have horses of their own. It was something she had learned from her aunt, who lived in the town. She wouldn't say she was fond of horse riding, but she didn't hate it either. She had been used to doing housework which she took great pleasure—helping her mother and father in their daily duties while being a good sister who accompanied her elder sister Beth everywhere.

As the stableman, Walter had said, this mare was indeed a gentle one, as it moved without Madeline having to tap her legs many times to the sides of the horse.

"She seems to be a lovely person," commented Calhoun, pulling the reins of his stallion so that Madeline's mare could catch up to him and they could ride together.

"Yes, she is," answered Madeline. To fill up the silence, she said, "Aunt Merlin is a very kind woman. Though she lives in the town, she has been considerate enough to educate my sister and me with the etiquettes of society."

Calhoun asked, "How about your mother? Does she know how to read and write?" It was rare for women of Madeline's mother's age to be qualified with a full education. Especially when one came from the village, there were rare chances that they had the opportunity to be educated. But Calhoun wanted to confirm something more than that.

Madeline's lips pursed, "Yes, she does," she nodded her head. Her mother needed her glasses to read the words; without it, she was not able to read anything.

It seemed that the note was indeed written by Mrs. Harris, thought Calhoun to himself and it wasn't good news to him. To the man, the ties of the family didn't matter, and if something did matter, it was the girl next to him.

"You must be feeling fortunate then. The poor don't always have the facility to learn," he said, not being subtle about where Madeline came from, "Most of the women from the high families don't understand the importance and often don't bother with it without any taste for literature, or poetry."

"What people have, they don't appreciate it," and it was the truth, thought Madeline to herself.

"You should start appreciating our time together more then," stated Calhoun, his eyes filling up with amusement and the smile broadened on his lips for his sharp fangs to appear for Madeline to see. When she was about to say something, he beat her to it, "Are you going to keep insisting that you don't like me and you like a stranger, who is more unknown to you than what you know of me? You sound like a broken violin, sweetheart."

Madeline's eyes narrowed, and she gritted her teeth that he was calling her a broken violin, "You might find it to be broken violin, Milord because I feel you don't understand what I am saying."

"Are you?"

"What?" asked Madeline with a frown on her face.

Madeline stared at Calhoun who was next to her, his horse moving forward and he asked, "You said you have been trying to make me understand that you have feelings for someone. But you won't consider that you know the man barely."

"Isn't it because you didn't give me the opportunity?" asked Madeline, trying to keep the conversation calm.

The King chuckled at Madeline's words, "You blame me as if I have been keeping you here in the castle for years. If a man really loves and wants you, he will make a move immediately without dawdling like an idiot. We should perhaps ask the tailorman on what he thinks about you being painted by me in your thin underclothes? What do you think he will say?"

"You are a vile man," she whispered, but Calhoun didn't take it to heart. He instead smiled at the compliment.

"Vile would be if I were to tell him how I painted you. What strokes of brush I used when I was painting your hands, neck, legs. Or how I sucked your neck," he stated, "But then I did nothing of that sort. Let's have a quiet and peaceful day without you bringing up that tailorman, else I wouldn't mind having him hang here," said Calhoun like it was not a big deal.

"If you learned how to court a lady this wouldn't be an issue," she muttered under her breath, agitated. Even though Calhoun was the one who had suggested that they have a peaceful day, he was the one who threw oil to the fire.

"Isn't that why we are riding the horses," Calhoun turned his head to look at her, "I thought you would like some change in the air. To breath, and not by whispering to birds," at first Madeline didn't understand what his last words meant—whispering to birds? When realisation finally hit, her eyes widened.

Her lips slightly trembled, "H-how do you know that?" she asked.

He was speaking about the time when she was at the window, speaking to the bird where she had shooed it away when she had heard the door knock. Calhoun, like many other times, gave her an oblivious look. Dropping the smile, he turned serious.

Madeline, whose heart had been quiet started to beat loudly again. She was shocked at how he knew when the door of her room was locked. Her hands turned clammy, the reins of the horse slipping through her hand, which she had to hold back.

She then heard Calhoun say, "I did mention to you, you need to be careful with what you speak and who you speak. You live in my castle, isn't it obvious that I am going to hear it?"

Was he out in the garden when she was speaking to the bird? Asked Madeline to herself. It was the only possible explanation for it, "I must say you had some fascinating words to say to the bird. Would you want to know what it actually means to be caged?" the smile returned back on Calhoun's lips- which was evil and ready to cause harm.

She was scared with the words Calhoun had just uttered to her.

They had only entered the forest, riding on the backs of the horses when Calhoun decided to pull the reins of the stallion to stop it from walking anymore. He turned around to dismount from his horse.

Madeline didn't want to stop, but she knew if she didn't do it, Calhoun would be the one to stop the mare himself. She pulled the reins to stop the mare from moving forward. She stared at Calhoun who walked around to come to her side, and before he could help her, she had already got down from the horse. She was better at dismounting than mounting on the horse.

Calhoun raised his hand in front of him, open-palmed towards Madeline who stood like a frozen statue because of the way he looked at her right now. He took her hand in his and pulled her to walk with him.

"Where are you taking me?" asked Madeline slightly worried, trying to keep up with his footsteps. What happened to his words to courting her politely without trying to scare her or be overbearing? She asked herself.

"To show you something that might interest you," replied Calhoun.

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