The First Kiss

by Grace Burrowes

  “What do I say?”

  “Introduce yourself. Compliment them, welcome them. The words don’t matter so much as the tone of the voice.” He seemed serious, and the horse was lowering its head closer to the ground the longer Sid scratched her neck.

  “Like that, don’t you, girl? I’m Sid, and don’t get too comfortable here, because I am no kind of farmer, and neither is Luis.”

  The horse let loose another sibilant, odoriferous fart.

  “Pleased to meet you too. There, I talked to her, and she responded. Can I call the SPCA now?”

  “No, you may not. Daisy will get jealous if you neglect her.”

  “And bitch slap me with her tail?”

  “At least.”

  Sid could see that happening, so she dropped her hand, then held it out to the other horse.

  “You too? I’m changing your names to Subzero and Kenmore, because you’re the size of industrial freezers.” The horse sighed as Sid began scratching the second hairy neck, and Sid hid a smile. “Where’s your dignity, horse? There’s a man present, of sorts.”

  “You want me to leave?”

  “Yes, particularly if you’re going to take these two with you.”

  “Smaller draft horses than these won’t fit in a conventional horse trailer. The halters I brought with me won’t fit them either, though I’ll be happy to clear out if you’re—”

  “No! That’s not what I—” Sid fell silent. What did she expect him to do, if he wasn’t going to take the horses with him? “Will the SPCA come get them, or animal control?”

  “You want them put down?”

  That deep voice held a chill, one that had Sid twisting around to peer at him over her shoulder. “Put down to what?”

  “Euthanized, put to sleep. Killed for your convenience.”

  His tone was positively arctic, though he was standing so close to Sid she could feel his body heat through her clothes.

  “Don’t be an ass. They’ve wandered off from somebody’s property. They’re merely strays, and need to be taken home.”

  “I’m not so sure of that, but let’s find them somewhere to put up overnight, and we can argue the details where Daisy and Buttercup can’t hear us. Come along.”

  He took Sid by the wrist, and began leading her away from the horses.

  Sid trundled along with him—beside him seemed the safest place to be—but glanced warily over her shoulder.

  “We’re being followed.”

  He dropped her wrist and turned so quickly Sid barely had time to step back.

  “Scat!” He waved his hands and charged at the nearest horse, who shied and then stood her ground a few feet off. “Scram, Daisy! Shoo!”

  The horse stood very tall, then lowered her head, and ponderously scampered a few feet before standing very tall again. The second horse gave a big shrug of her neck and hopped sideways.

  “You get them all wound up,” Sid said, edging toward the gate, “I am burying you where you fall, mister, and the grave will be shallow, because there’s a lot of you to bury.”

  “They want to play. Head for the barn. This won’t take long.”

  Sid did not need to be told twice. She shamelessly hustled for the gate, stopping to watch what happened in the field behind her only when she’d climbed to the highest fence board.

  A two-ton version of tag-you’re-it seemed to be going on, with the horses galumphing up to the man, then veering away only to stop, wheel, and charge him again. He dodged easily, and swatted at them on the neck and shoulders and rump when they went by. When they were a few steps past him, the horses would kick up their back legs or buck, and by God, the ground did shake.

  The guy was grinning now, his face transformed from forbiddingly handsome to stunningly attractive. He called to each horse, good-naturedly taunting first one then the other, until by some unspoken consent, both mares approached him with their heads down.

  Sid couldn’t hear what he said to them, but she saw the way he touched them, the way he fiddled with those big ears, and gave each horse one last scratch. The mares watched him walk back toward the barn, and Sid could have sworn their expressions were forlorn.

  “You’re old friends with them,” she said as he climbed over the fence. She tried to turn on the top board, only to find herself plucked straight up into the air, then set gently on her feet. “For the love of meadow muffins, mister, are you trying to get your face slapped?”

  His lips quirked, but he did not smile. “No.”

  “What am I supposed to do about your lady friends?”

  “Nothing for right now. Who’s the kid?”

  “What kid?” Sid followed the blacksmith’s gaze to the front porch of their new house. Their new old house.

  “The kid who’s going to tear me into little bitty pieces if you don’t let him know I’m your new best friend.”

  “Never had a best friend before,” Sid said, but the man had a point. Luis was looking daggers at the blacksmith, the boy’s shirt luffing against his skinny body, showing tension in every bone and sinew. “Come on, I’ll introduce you. Or I would if you’d told me your name.”

  “Everybody calls me Mac.”

  She eyed him up and down as they started for the house. “Like the truck? Don’t they have a plant around here somewhere?”

  “Hagerstown, but it’s Volvo now, and no, not like the truck. Like MacKenzie.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. MacKenzie. I’d be more pleased if you’d take those free-to-good-homes along with you.”

  “No, it’s MacKenzie, as in MacKenzie Knightley. I’m fairly certain the horses are yours.”

  “You’ve said that twice now, and while I’m a woman slow to anger”—he snorted beside her—“it’s only fair to warn you the notion of me owning those mastodons will sour my mood considerably. Luis!” Sid’s voice caught the boy as he was slouching away from the porch post to duck into the house. “He’s shy.”

  “Right.”

  “He is, and you’d be too if you’d been in eight foster homes in less than three years. Be nice.”

  “Or you’ll beat me up?”

  “I’ll tell your horses on you, and they will be very disappointed in you.”

  They reached the porch, and Luis was back to holding up a porch post, his hands tucked into his armpits, because at almost sixteen, he was too macho to wear a damned jacket.

  “Luis, this is Mac. He’s come to tell us what to do with the horses.”

  “Luis.” Mac surprised her by holding out one of those big hands, and Sid said a quick prayer her son would not embarrass her. “Pleased to meet you.”

  Her foster son, but that was splitting hairs.

  Luis looked at Mac’s hand, which the man continued to hold out, while his gaze held the boy’s. Slowly, Luis offered his hand.

  “MacKenzie Knightley, my friends call me Mac.”

  “Luis Martineau.”

  “You know anything about horses, Luis?”

  “Only what I’ve learned from Neils and Adelia,” Luis said. “Horses are to be respected.”

  The slight emphasis on the last word had Sid’s heart catching. Luis had taken to his riding lessons like nothing else she’d thrown at him, likely because of the people as much as the horses.

  “They are to be respected,” Mac said, “and cared for. Those two mares are in the beginning stages of neglect, and somebody will have to look after them.”

  Sid took up a lean on another porch post. “I wish you all the luck in the world with that, Mr. Knightley, because that somebody will not be me or Luis. Now, having settled that, may I offer you a cup of coffee?”

  “I’m a tea drinker, actually.”

  “You’re in luck,” she said, heading for the door. “The only room we’ve unpacked is the kitchen, and the only thing we’ve stocked is the frid
ge.”

  Order Grace Burrowes's third book

  in the Sweetest Kisses series

  Kiss Me Hello

  On sale March 2015

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  About the Author

  New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Grace Burrowes hit the bestseller lists with her debut, The Heir, followed by The Soldier, Lady Maggie’s Secret Scandal, Lady Eve’s Indiscretion, The Captive, and The Traitor. All of her Regency and Victorian romances have received extensive praise, including several starred reviews from Publishers Weekly and Booklist. The Heir was a Publishers Weekly Best Book of 2010, The Soldier was a Publishers Weekly Best Spring Romance of 2011, and Lady Sophie’s Christmas Wish won Best Historical Romance of the Year in 2011 from RT Reviewers’ Choice Awards. Lady Louisa’s Christmas Knight was a Library Journal Best Book of 2012, and The Bridegroom Wore Plaid, the first in her trilogy of Scotland-set Victorian romances, was a Publishers Weekly Best Book of 2012. Darius, the first in her groundbreaking Regency series The Lonely Lords, was named one of iBooks Store’s Best Romances of 2013.

  Grace is a practicing family law attorney and lives in rural Maryland. She loves to hear from her readers and can be reached through her website at graceburrowes.com.