The Soul Mate (part 2)

(part 2)
Maybe he’d go for a ride today and just worry about all of this tomorrow. But, first things first, he needed to get rid of the redhead that was still sharing his bed.
He slapped her bottom, none too gently, and shoved her shoulder towards the edge of the bed. She groaned and rolled over; giving a view that was only slightly better than when she was face up. God, how could he have been that drunk? Finally after the third shove, she sat up, and gave him a blank stare. Maybe if he gave her a tip, she would leave his rooms a little faster.
At last, she was walking out the door after trying several attempts to coax him back to bed and out of more money. It was all he could to do to keep from throwing her out.
He went to the mirror and washstand, splashed cold water on his face, and fetched a clean shirt and breeches out of the wardrobe. Most gentlemen of his position and stature would be wearing more expensive clothes, but since he had returned from the Americas several years ago, he found that the breeches were more comfortable, and allowed him to go unnoticed by most people.
Throwing on a vest of black silk, and tying his cravat, he wound his way down the steps to the dining room. His cook and housemaid knew to keep his breakfast to more of a light brunch since his mornings seemed to extend closer to the noon hour each day. After eating two pieces of toast and gulping down 3 cups of coffee to help the ache in his head, he headed out for the stables.
He had the groom saddle the black Friesian stallion, Caleb. Not a gentleman’s horse, but nothing could beat him for stamina or devotion. The stallion was frisky, if you could use that word to describe the descendent of the medieval war-horses. When Caleb was in this mood, he could move mountains, if he wished. Claire knew that the horse would do anything for him. He could see the horses muscles ripple as he mounted up, but the horse never moved. Just a light touch and they were away down the drive. As they moved out to the avenue, Caleb maneuvered easily between the traffic of drays and carriages. Then again, people seemed to just know they should get out of the way as he settled for the quickest way out of the city towards the more open countryside. Anything within 10 miles of London still wasn’t the country he was used to, but anything was better then the fake parks in the city. The morning was bright and hurt his hung over eyes as ahead he saw a stand of trees and slowed Caleb into an easy canter. As they neared the trees Caleb sensed there was something not right. He moved to the other side of the lane, and then they were crashing through the trees on the left side as Caleb did something he had never done before and shied. Pulling Caleb to a stop he heard crying by the opposite side of the road, he dismounted and walked towards the noise. Pushing the bushes and weeds aside he found two small children not much different in age from his own two. He reached out a hand to bring them out into the light and then he was on his back, seeing stars and looking up into the trees.
As the wind slowly came back into his lungs, he realized there was a frail framed person sitting on his chest, beating him for all she was worth. Grabbing the flailing wrists he easily wrestled the form from on top of him to the ground and got a good look at the wildcat. Long dark brown hair covered in leaves and twigs showed two bright green eyes, glaring at him through the waves.