by Jillian Hart
"She didn't look happy to be penned up in a barn again." Skye cut one sandwich in half. "But she didn't protest, either."
"She was happy to get a full belly at her feeder. She has scars on her flanks. Looks like a bobcat or cougar got his claws into her but wasn't successful. The claw marks don't look deep."
"The poor girl. I hope that salve I mixed up will keep out any infection and heal her up. I noticed her stallion came looking for her and his foal."
"True. The herd came to eat and are grazing in the field not far from the barn." He bit into his sandwich, aware of Skye's closeness. He couldn't deny his body's pleasant reaction.
Best not to imagine getting to undress her. He concentrated on chewing, the chicken sandwich was delicious, and worked on tamping down his sexual response to her. He took another bite.
"I wondered if he would go very far from his mare and foal." She plated another sandwich and lifted it off the counter with one hand. She reached for the full, steaming bowl and saucer with the other. "As long as they are on my land they're safe."
"From who?" he asked around a spoonful of soup.
"The neighbor." She paused in the doorway. "He takes offense at the mustangs running across his spread."
"Good to know, and that's a problem." He refilled his spoon and slurped in another mouthful of spicy bean soup.
The neighbor, huh? His guess was that Judson worked for him, and that made him clench his teeth hard. He left his spoon in the bowl and grabbed up the remaining half of his sandwich.
He watched Skye waltz from the kitchen, swish down the hall and cut a sharp right into the dining room. She was willowy and as graceful as a dream, slender and yet as shapely as a woman can be.
He couldn't help admiring the full curve of her bosom, the nip of her slender waist and what was likely flawless hips and thighs beneath the fall of her beautiful dress.
You shouldn't be noticing that, Mosley. Heat stained his face, but he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away nearly as fast as he wanted.
"There, now it's my turn to eat. My sister is not going to join us." Skye swished into sight, happiness clinging to her like the sunshine she walked through on the way to the counter. "Wait, don't tell me. You're going to make me leave the room and go eat with Samantha."
"I don't think I have that authority. Or fool myself into thinking that you would actually cooperate."
"I'm a maverick that way." She grabbed her plate off the counter. "I'm the independent type."
"Save me from brash, bold, independent women," he smiled behind his sandwich. "Don't think I didn't see you riding astride in your saddle."
"Why not? My reputation will stay ruined forever and so I'm free of all those societal constraints." She elegantly slipped into the chair across the table from him, looking Eastern seaboard perfect, fresh off the boat from shopping for fashion in Paris.
Her gaze locked on his. He'd never seen more striking hazel eyes, laced with threads of gold and copper. And sorrow behind the happy.
"What about my reputation?" The words rasped out of his throat. "What will society think of me?"
"I think they've thrown you out at first impression." She took a dainty bite, those hazel eyes bright with mischief. "Polite society would never accept you. Let's just say it's because of the guns and the brawn."
"Guess that's better than the alternative. I'm no gentleman."
"I saw how you handled Judson. You intimidated him with a look and that was before you got the jump on him." She took another dainty bite. "It was very impressive. Maybe I should learn to give people a look like that. I could intimidate them in their tracks."
"A power I don't think you should be trusted with."
"You're teasing me."
No, she was teasing him with her alluring, adorable beauty. Every inch of his body wanted her, and that was more than a pleasant surprise.
All of his dreams might not be out of reach.
He cleared his throat. "Teasing you? Heck, someone's got to do it. It might as well be me."
"You look tough enough to take it. How do you do it?I've got to learn to earn men's respect somehow, since I'm destined to be a woman on my own." Cute crinkles pinched in around her mouth as she grinned. "You can do it with only a glower."
"It's a natural talent. You either have it or you don't."
"You stood up in the saloon and intimidated everyone. Every man in there held his breath, afraid to speak. You were that authoritative. I need to learn to make that kind of an impact and I'll never have trouble with anyone."
"That's what you think? That you can ward off trouble just by appearing tough?"
"It seems to work for you."
"I'll let you in on a secret." He would say more, but his lungs had decided not to work. He felt tensed up, as if everything he owned would never work right again. Like his brain. Like his heart. Like his common sense. "I've got the gun power and skills to back it up."
"I'm lacking in those aspects."
"I've noticed. Your high hopes to intimidate anyone are destined to be disappointed."
"Then I guess it's a good thing you're on my payroll." Mirth sparkled in her eyes. "Not that you work for me."
"You have a lot to learn if you're going to scare men off right and left."
"Oh, I do that already intentionally. But not every man cooperates. Judson is going to be a problem, that's easy to see."
"What are you doing?"
"Trying to get my mouth to glower like yours. You have a frown and grimace I admire." She stretched her mouth around so adorably, his heart went thud as it fell a bit in his chest. Wow, did she look cute. Her sweet beauty shone like the sunshine surrounding her.
There was no faking that. She was the genuine deal.
"Huh," she said. "I'm still working on it. I don't have it figured out yet, but if I can learn to effectively sneer, then maybe I'll command some respect. And then I won't have any more problems with men hiding in my fields."
"Have there been problems before?"
"No, but then my brother was around more. He's getting married and busier on his own property." She reached for the cloth napkin in her lap and winced when she moved her wrist.
"Judson hurt you. You should have had the doc take a look."
"It's nothing that won't go away, it's just a bruise. But I didn't know about the trespassing problem I have. I need to figure that out."
"It's easy. Whoever it is, he needs to be arrested before they do something worse, like what they came for."
"Poor Orville." She gulped and rose from the table. She grabbed her plate and his empty soup bowl. "I'm very worried that you are right."
"I've seen it before. I know how to handle it."
"That's why you're staying." She liked him so much for that. "I'm worried about Orville's safety. Then there's Minnie and Evie and her foal. Now the wounded wild horse in my barn. I would keel over if something happened to them."
"You're a good soul. I don't often see anyone be kinder to horses than me. Something tells me you are that and in a big way."
"I may be a softy. Some would say a weakling. But just don't tell anybody, okay?"
"It will stay our secret. I won't let anyone know you're a sweetheart."
He couldn't meet her gaze and she wondered why. It wasn't hard to remember the scars on Brennan's back she'd noticed when the doctor had tended him. Not hard to figure that those long ago injuries were one reason he held back, kept his feelings to himself, and kept his guards up.
She didn't know about his life, but what had he learned about trusting others and being safe while growing up? And how had he get those scars?
Her heart twisted. There it was, proof she already cared too much about him. "My family will be the first to tell you I'm no sweetheart. And I'm fairly good at standing up for others, well, I can think of the right thing to say about twelve hours after I needed to."
"Is that right? You're a real spitfire."
"If only. I have plenty to say after the
fact. I may not be good at just knowing how to instinctively open my mouth and handle any rough situation. Not that I'm incompetent, but, well, it's the wild west. I grew up in a gentler environment."
"That's obvious. You should be going to socials and waltzing in ballrooms and having garden club meetings with friends, not worrying about suspected outlaws trespassing on your land."
"Maybe I can't have my own horse ranch back home. Not that I ever thought I would end up alone and a spinster, but it gives me hope. And I refuse to be a burden to my parents. It's hard on their reputation to have such a daughter as me."
"I can see that. I'm suffering in your presence just sitting here."
His kind smile was like a touch. Little tingles of awareness sparkled through every part of her. She blushed. "I'm hoping that by this time next spring. I'll be looking out the window at my own stable full of horses grazing out in those pastures."
"You are nothing like I expected." He brushed a wispy curl of golden hair out of her unguarded eyes. "I like you, Skye, and I can't say that happens often. I mean that as a real compliment. There's a lot to like about you."
"Well, thank you, that's very kind of you, and I wish I could say the same about you, but I don't like you, even a little bit." Heat burned across her face because she hadn't been able to tell him the truth.
She leaned in closer, near enough to breathe in the warm, pleasant male scent of his skin. "I like you even more than that."
"That's a relief to know." Good humor drew fine crinkling lines around the corners of his eyes, adding character and handsomeness. "I'd better not go taking a spark to you. You would only break my heart."
"Yes, I would, so that's very wise."
"Is it?"
"Sure. My heart is off limits. I'm smart enough to never give it away and never to such a man as you."
"Of course you are very smart, no doubt."
"You are a charmer and far too used to women falling at your feet and for your dashing manliness." She bit her lip, realizing she was almost kissing close, which made her entire mouth buzz with anticipation.
"Not true." He gave a soft bark of laughter. "But it defies explanation why you are walking around unmarried. It seems some smart man would have snatched you up as his to love."
His words wrapped around her heart and gave a hard, emotional tug.
Not good, Skye! What was this strange sensation? She'd never felt tenderness like this. Her mouth went dry, her palms began to sweat.
An intense, surprising longing raced through her. What would it feel like to lay her hand along the line of his unshaven jaw? To lean in and for the first time in her life take the initiative? What would it be like to kiss him?
"Oh, I've had offers, but I would rather be one of those woman with a life of her own choosing." Up went her chin, so he wouldn't guess the truth, at how hard she was attempting to hold onto that idea and make it true.
When it wasn't.
"That's a pity. Think of all the men's hearts you've broken over the years."
How did she tell him that the man had done the breaking once long ago? But since she did not want the good humor to end, she tilted her head and arched her eyebrow. "Are you attempting to get on my good side by flattering me?"
"Why would I? I'm already there."
She chuckled, and they shared a smile. Coolish air made her shiver. It took her a moment to realize the bright sun had disappeared. Storm clouds were gathering in the northwestern sky, huge charcoal mammoths blotting out the blue.
She snatched up his empty sandwich plate and retraced her tracks to the sink, relieved for the chance to put some space between them.
"You are mistaken, Mr. Mosley," she told him. "You are not on my good side. That is a very difficult place to get to and you haven't even begun to be good enough to get there."
He gave a soft bark of laughter. "Maybe you can tell me what it's gonna take?"
"For you? Sorry, it's an impossibility. You have no chance." She did her best to deny the manly image he made.
He was a rugged renegade, all dimpled grin and handsome crinkles around his eyes. His wide shoulders, barrel chest and rippling muscles made her wish she could simply tell him another truth.
That he would always be more than good enough in her view.
The only thing she could do to ignore the rather substantial tenderness filling up her heart was to scurry away and retrieve Samantha's lunch plates.
When she came back, his chair at the table was gone. And so was he, striding across the lawn, framed perfectly by the window. There went her employee, back to work.
13
The storm struck before dusk. The wind's cool gusts blew hard from the north, carrying the scent of thunder.
Brennan paused to listen to the notes in the wind change. Rain was on its way.
The pinto mare heaved up onto her hooves. She eyed the gate that hemmed her in her stall with great judgement. She shook her head, eyes wide.
"Are you afraid of storm, pretty girl?" Brennan leaned over the half door. Grain tumbled from pail to tray. "I bet you would feel a whole lot better if you were out there with your herd."
The mare didn't answer, but the plea in her gentle brown eyes got to him. She was clearly worried and afraid to be alone.
"I can't guarantee there won't be thunder, but you're safe here." He moved his injured arm, bit back a grimace and rocked back onto his feet. He set the empty pail on the floor to the side of her door. "You just relax and stay calm and take care of your foal. I won't be far away. You won't be alone."
The first stab of lightning sparked through the charcoal-black clouds. The flash made him blink, but he counted to five before thunder rolled across the sky, echoing down into the valley.
Not gonna let that thunder bother me. Or take him back in memory. The nightmares hadn't been as regular from his time in the Army, then made worse by his arrest and the trauma of a short-term stay in prison. He strolled to the end of the aisle, where the barn doors stood wide open, giving him a view of the mountains and the waving trees.
The rain came like a surprise, a sudden downpour that pounded on the ground like bullets shot from above.
"That's a good girl, Evie. It'll be all right, little filly." He grinned at the foal at her purebred mama's side. The little one darted behind her mama, spindly legs quaking.
Evie calmly poked her nose over the gate and he petted her ears.
"That's right," he told her. "You're safe. I'll make sure of it."
As if she appreciated it, the mare pressed her nose against his chest and nickered once, as if she understood.
"Brennan." Claude burst into the barn, dripping wet, and holding onto a bay's lead with one hand and the filly with the other. The big brown mare gave a relieved sigh when she spotted her open stall. "Glad to see that you got our Evie in safe and sound. I appreciate the help, or I couldn't have done it before the rain fell."
"Where's Skye?"
"Orville didn't want to come in." The older man closed the stall door, trapping the mother and foal inside. "He likes a good storm, and he can be stubborn if he wants to. She spoils him."
"That doesn't surprise me. I'll go lend her a hand. Maybe I can convince him." Brennan double-checked the gate, tugged down his hat and ducked through the door.
The wind-driven rain greeted him with a cool punch. He blinked, got a good firm hold on his hat brim to keep the rain off his face and his hat on and splashed through the sodden grass.
Where was she? The storm stole the daylight and the lashing veil of rain, leaving only shades of gray. Lightning raced across the sky in a white-hot flash.
Skye was a glint of color, from her golden sunny wet hair, her blue calico dress damp and clinging to her curves and the musical bell of her laugh warming the cool notes of the wind.
She clung to the stallion's back, astride, holding onto his mane, leading him with only the rope from his halter.
As thunder pealed and echoed across the blackening clouds, Orville miss
ed his stride to hop up into a half-rear, front hooves swimming in mid-air. He gave a trumpeting whinny, master of the storm.
"Orville!" Skye's laughter was drown out by the final echo of thunder. The wind whipped her sunbonnet off her head, and it fell down her back as she clung to Orville's back.
Down he went, back on all fours with his eyes bright and a horsy smile on his face. He tossed his head, scattering his platinum mane and took off in pure bliss, racing the rain.
"Orville! Stop that! You're running away with me!"
Brennan shook his head, wet to the skin, letting the cool rain drench him and the wind drive him back a few steps. His boots splashed in a growing puddle and a chuckle escaped him.
Most women with any common sense at all would not be out enjoying the storm, laughing in the face of lightning strikes, and riding a runaway stallion bareback in a rain storm.
A white, crackling bolt of lightning blazed overhead. Thunder crashed with deafening force, rattling the earth beneath his feet.
Maybe I'm losing my common sense too, and she's making me do it. He watched the golden stallion launch into a full run, charging blissfully into the wind and rain.
"One more lap!" Skye's voice belled above the fading echo of dying thunder and the symphony of drumming, tapping rain. The wind serenaded them like a trio of woodwinds, rising and falling.
Skye leaned forward on Orville's back as they moved together, melody and harmony. The stallion's long legs reached out, churning powerfully around the perimeter of the corral.
Orville streaked against the watercolor painting of the wet, gray-green world. He moved like music with a clip-clop percussion that made Brennan stop in his tracks and watch the woman, mesmerized.
What a sight. His heart stalled in mid-beat, lurching in his chest. She was spirit and beauty and life, and his soul soared watching her lift her face toward the sky, letting the rain sprinkle her and the wind whip through her hair.
"Brennan!" Her eyes lit up when she saw him, and the joy she felt brightened as she urged Orville in his direction. "What are you doing out here?"