Although she still had concerns that Galt, a relatively inexperienced rider, would be "fine" during a brief canter in the rain, there weren't any better alternatives than trusting he knew his capabilities. She took his offered hand to help her stand. They hadn't known each other long, but he clearly understood her well enough to anticipate that she'd try to avoid the issue of her health. Silke almost voiced a protest before she decided to shelve that discussion until they had returned to the safety of her home. Besides, even if she were able to convince her new fiance that she didn't need any special accommodations or treatment, her brother was another matter. He was nothing if not an overprotective zealot. At times she sincerely believed she'd have an easier time teaching pigs to [i]actually[/i] fly than to have Vincent not worry over her excessively every time she coughed.

With her clothes still damp, she saw no point to changing or covering herself with a cloak or jacket. If her garments had been dry it would have been a fantastic way to keep insulated and warm, but with them still wet, she wouldn't achieve much. Instead, she helped Galt put on another layer, put away the blankets, and prepared herself mentally for their (hopefully) short journey.

Once outside, she fetched a length of rope from the small stable's storage, mounted her horse, wrapped it around her waist, and fastened it to the saddle twice over so that it would keep her from falling. Experienced as she was as a rider, she didn't trust her leg strength, and if she slackened her grip on her steed's flanks mid-step, then it wasn't outside of the realm of possibility she'd take a nasty tumble. The rain was just another aggravating factor. The difference in friction would make it that much more challenging to keep a hold. Some novices, when unseated and panicking, would try to pull back on the reins or grab a fistful of mane. Neither of these made the situation better she knew; both were painful and confusing for the horse, and the resultant chaos could make a bad situation worse. When falling was inevitable, the best course of action was to jump clear and roll to avoid being trampled. Unfortunately, Silke doubted she could accomplish this same feat that she had done dozens of times over in her current condition.

Letting Galt (or, more specifically, his steed) take the lead, she hunched over and tried to keep herself steady. Loathe as she was to admit it, she [i]did[/i] slip in the saddle a couple of times as they cantered to the safety of the estate's main residence. She sighed with relief as stablehands ran up to greet them, taking hold of the their respective horse's bridles, and leading them into the shelter of the stable proper. It was here that she started to undo her rope bindings, albeit with the help of one of the grooms, who had darted over to her the moment he realized she needed assistance. When she was freed, one of them run off with the rope to store it, while another, stockier and more muscular, gave her his hand to dismount.

Silke had entertained the idea of retaining her independence and trying to dismount from the saddle herself, but she was anxious about the small chance she stumbled and made herself look more pathetically weak. "Thank you, Mikael," she murmured, straightening herself once she hit the ground. With a nod and a subdued smile, one of the grooms took the horse to its stall where it could be untacked, brushed, watered, and fed. The stablehand that had helped her moved towards Galt to lend him aid should he need it as well. All of them were polite and professional without the slightest hint of judgment regardless of whether or not he took the unspoken offer of assistance.

No more than two minutes had passed when Vincent (who had clearly been waiting) stormed into the stable. "Look at the state you're in! You look awful!" he announced after a quick, assessing glance at his sister. Before she could reprimand him for the insult, the older sibling picked her up, holding her as easily and comfortably as he would a small child. "I saw you from the windows," he said, which explained his quick arrival. "The maids are already heating water for your bath. Harrowmark," he continued, turning, "you may as well stay the night. Dinner's ready and it's wretched weather for traveling. If it isn't storming or an hour or two, the roads will be a muddy mess. We've ample room to put you up and any servants you brought with you."

In fact, there were many guest rooms that had sat empty and unused for years- since the death of their mother.

"I hardly need to be carried," Silke huffed, trying to wriggle out of his grasp in vain. He cradled her more tightly to his chest, unbothered. Strong as she was for a woman of her build, she was comparatively nothing next to the brawn of her brother, who spent more time with physical exercises, training, and other such endeavors than most of his peers. "And you don't run the household, I do. If anyone should be inviting Galt to stay, it should be me."

Vincent rolled his eyes. "Come on inside, Harrowmark. I'll have the maids make you a hot bath after we eat, unless you want one now," he said, effectively ignoring Silke's attempted assertion he ought not to make decisions for the Kaspers by himself. For all her complaints that he was unsuited to lead their family, he [i]was[/i] more capable than she gave him credit for, as evidenced by his current behavior.