by Nora Roberts
She watched now with a critical eye, noting little things they’d work on.
“I feel I could do it forever, and jump twice as high.”
“One bar at a time,” Iona told her.
“Did you see, Ma! Did you see me?”
“I did. You were beautiful. Go on now, see to your horse, and we’ll go home and tell your da. Could I have a word?” she said to Iona.
“Sure. I’ll be right in, Sarah. And tell Mooney Winnie earned an apple.”
“I nearly made you stop,” Mrs. Hannigan told her. “I nearly called out to you, no, not yet. All I could see in my mind’s eye was Sarah flying off, lying on the ground with something broken.”
“It’s hard to let her push new boundaries.”
“Oh, it is indeed, and you’ll know yourself one day when you’ve children. But I knew, under it, you wouldn’t let her do something she wasn’t ready for. She’s doing so well with you, is so happy with you. I wanted you to know that.”
“She’s a joy to teach.”
“I think it shows in both of you. I took a picture with my phone when she did the jump.” She pulled the phone out, turned the screen to Iona. “My hand shook, I’m afraid, so it’s a bit blurry, but I knew I’d want to have that moment.”
Iona studied the screen, the flight—the young girl on the back of the sturdy horse, and the bar and air under them. She gave the slightest push, then turned the screen back.
“It’s a wonderful shot, and it’s clear and sharp. You can see the joy and the concentration on her face.”
Lips pursed, Mrs. Hannigan studied the photo again, then those lips curved. “Oh, it is good. It must’ve been my eyes blurry when I first looked at it.”
“You stay for every lesson.” Her mother hadn’t, Iona remembered. “I think it makes her strive to do better, knowing you’re here for her, that you support her.”
“Well of course I do. I’m her ma. I’m going to call her father right now, and tell him to pick up some strawberry ice cream. It’s her favorite. We’ll have a little celebration after dinner. I won’t keep you, but I wanted to thank you for building her confidence, and my own. They’re lucky to have you here.”
Iona wasn’t sure her boots touched the ground all the way into the stables. She stopped when her eyes adjusted to the change of light and she spotted Boyle.
“I didn’t know you were here.”
“Only just, and I’ve gotten an earful from Sarah. She’s floating three feet off the ground.”
“We both are. I wish you could’ve seen her. I should make sure she’s tending Winnie.”
“She is, and well, as she’s now fully in love. And Mooney’s keeping an eye. I thought you might want to take Alastar out. I’m going to give Darling a try, just see how she goes. He’d be good company for her. And you for me,” he added after a moment.
“I’d love it, but I’ve still got about a half hour on the clock.”
“You’ll be helping exercise the horses, so you can consider it a job if it eases your conscience.”
“Works for me.”
In fact she couldn’t think of a better way to end her workday than with a ride with the man who made her heart flutter.
She watched Darling as Boyle mounted, caught the quiver along her flanks, the expression in her eyes.
“She’s nervous.”
“I can feel that for myself.” To soothe, he bent over, murmuring and stroking.
“Do you know why?”
“She’s more weight on her than she’s used to, and hasn’t had a rider on her back in weeks.”
“That’s not it.” Iona turned Alastar so Boyle and Darling fell into step beside her. “She trusts you, and loves you. She’s nervous she won’t do well, and you won’t want to ride her again.”
“Then she’s foolish. It’s a fine day for a ride. We’ll head to the lough, and around a bit if it’s all right with you.”
“More than all right.”
“You’ll tell me if she hurts, and I don’t notice.”
“I will, but she’s feeling very sound. She likes the look of Alastar,” she added, sotto voce. “Thinks he’s very handsome.”
“He is that.”
“He’s pretending not to notice her, but he’s peacocking a little.”
“Now you’re hunting up a romance for the horses?”
“I know he’s for Aine, but a stallion like Alastar’s meant to sire foals, and she’s made for breeding. Plus, I don’t have to hunt up anything. I just have to pay attention to say they like the look of each other.”
“I hadn’t thought of breeding her.”
“Aine will make the regal and the magnificent,” Iona said. “Darling? She’ll make the sweet and the dependable. In my opinion,” she added.
“Well, Alastar’s yours, so you’ll have a say in it.”
“I think he has the most to say, as do the ladies. It’s almost spring.” She lifted her face, looked at the sky through the boughs. “You can feel it coming.”
“Still cold as February.”
“That may be, but it’s coming. The air’s softer.”
“That would be the rain moving in tonight.”
She only laughed. “And I saw a pair of magpies flirting out by Branna’s feeder this morning.”
“Just how does a magpie flirt?”
“They fly to and away, to and away, then chatter at each other and do it again. I asked Connor why the hawks don’t go after them, and he said they have an arrangement. I like that.”
They moved into single file when the path narrowed, and wound by the river where the water thrashed under a broken rope bridge.
“Will they ever fix that?” she wondered.
“I’m doubting it, as people would be foolish enough to walk on it, and end up falling in. You’d be one of them.”
“Who says I’d fall in? And if I did, I’m a strong swimmer.” Because she enjoyed flirting, she sent him a long, under-the-lashes look. “Are you?”
“I live on an isthmus on an island. I’d be a bleeding git not to swim and well.”
“We’ll have to take a dip sometime.” She glanced back again, and remembered her first sight of him, and how striking, how compelling he’d looked—the big, tough man on the big, tough horse.
But she realized he only looked more striking now, seated on the mare he’d brought back to health, his hands light on the reins, her eyes glowing with pride.
“She’s not nervous anymore.”
“I know it. She’s doing fine and well.” He moved up beside Iona as the path allowed.
“I talked to my grandmother last night,” she began. “I couldn’t settle for email anymore, just wanted to hear her voice. She sends you her best.”
“And mine goes back to her.”
“She’s planning to come for a few weeks either this summer or fall. I want her to, but at the same time . . .”
“You worry if we’ve still battles to fight. You want her safe.”
“She’s everything to me. I thought when . . . I talk too much.”
“No doubt of it, but you might as well speak your mind.”
“I was just going to say how Sarah’s mother’s always there for her lessons and her father’s come by twice to watch her. My mother would just drop me off, or more often I’d catch a ride to and from with one of the other students. My father never came. Never once. Rarely to a competition either. But Nan did, whenever she could. She’d drive to wherever they were, whenever she could. Sometimes she’d just be there, and I wouldn’t know she’d planned to come. She paid for the lessons, and the entry fees. I didn’t know that until I was staying with her once, and heard a message on her machine about renewing the contract with the stables.”
“She gave you what you loved.”
“I want her to be proud of me. I guess it’s a lot like Darling. I want to do well, so she can see she didn’t waste the time and effort.”
“Then you’re foolish as well.”
“I know
. Can’t seem to help it.”
She looked out over the lake, away to the elegant rise of the castle, its gardens still caught in the last of winter’s bite. People strolled around, here to see and do and experience from wherever they’d traveled.
She understood it was like the photo of Sarah, a moment she wanted to have. So as they walked the horses along the water, she let everything else go, and took a page from Boyle’s book.
She embraced the silence.
“We should start back,” he said at length. “I don’t want to overwork her.”
“No, and Branna will be expecting me for my lesson.”
“Going well enough then?”
“Yes. Branna might have some quibbles, but I think it’s going just . . . grand.”
She glanced to him with a grin, saw him looking past her with a frown. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I was . . . noticing the cottage there. They’ve a fine menu. Maybe after your lesson, you’d like to have some dinner there.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “With you?”
His frown only deepened. “Well, of course, with me. Who else?”
“There’s no one else,” she said simply. “I’d love to. I could be ready by seven or seven thirty.”
“Half-seven’s good. I’ll book it, and fetch you.”
“That sounds grand, too.”
As they slipped into the woods, into the dimmer light, she began a mental inventory of her wardrobe. What should she wear? Nothing too fancy, but not jeans or trousers. Maybe Branna could help her out there, as her options were limited.
Something simple, but pretty. Heels, not boots. Her legs were damn good if she said so herself. She’d like to dazzle him, at least a little, so—
Alastar shied; Darling reared.
And the wolf stepped across the path.
Her thoughts centered on the safety of the horses, Iona didn’t think, just acted. She streamed a line of fire across the path between them.
“It won’t hurt you. I won’t let it hurt you.”
Boyle drew a knife from a sheath on his belt she hadn’t noticed. “He bloody well won’t.”
“Don’t dismount!” Iona shouted, anticipating. “She’s terrified. She’ll bolt, and it might get to her. You have to hold her, Boyle.”
“Take her reins, talk her down, and get them safe. I’ll hold it off.”
“Separating us makes us easier prey.” It’s what it wanted, hoped for—she could feel it. “Trust me, please. Please.”
And struggling to focus, she murmured, her voice quiet, steady, an incantation she learned from the books. One still untried.
The wolf lunged at the line of fire, looking for an opening. With its fierce charge the flames dimmed, lowered.
Gripping the reins in one hand, Iona lifted the other high.
“From north and south, from east and west, bring on the wind for this contest. Strike up the power, bring on the fire until the tower whirls higher and higher. Blow strong, blow fierce, blow wild and free. As I will, so mote it be.
“You think I don’t have it,” she said between her teeth. “You’re wrong.”
Above, the sky churned, and with her lifted hand she balled a fist, as if pulling the flame-edged whirlwind that formed into her fingers.
She flung out her arm, sent a raging funnel of wind through the fire.
It lifted the wolf off its feet, threw it up as it screamed in rage. And she hoped, in fear. It spun, claws lashing air as it bore him up and away.
Iona fought to control what she’d conjured, felt it building beyond her. A tree snapped, collapsed into jagged splinters.
“Take it down.” Boyle’s voice came steady in her ear. “It’s more than you need, and too much. Take it down again now, Iona, as only you can. Let it calm. Let it go.”
A line of sweat beaded down her back as she fought to do just that. The roar of the wind began to fade, the impossible swirl of it to slow.
“All the way down now, Iona.”
“I’m trying. It’s so strong.”
“It’s you who made it. It’s you who’s strong.”
She’d made it, she thought. She’d control it. She’d end it.
“Still now,” she said. “And soft. Calm and sweet. Disperse.”
The wolf dropped like a stone in the light breeze. Then sprang up, fangs dripping. Did the red jewel seem dimmer? she wondered.
Then it leapt into the woods, pulsing out a curtain of smoky fog. After one distant howl, silence fell again.
“It could come back.” All calm deserted her as her hands shook, as her voice jumped. “It could come back. We need to get the horses in. I need to make sure the stables are safe. It—”
“That’s what we’ll do. Breathe a minute. You’ve gone dead pale.”
“I’m all right.” Under her Alastar pawed the ground. He’d pursue, she realized—longed to. To calm him, she had to calm herself. “We’ve done enough,” she said softly. “It’s enough for now. I need to tell Branna, Connor. But the horses—”
“We’re going now, easy.”
“Easy.” She took those breaths, then laid her hand on Alastar’s neck, and over on Darling’s. “Easy,” she repeated. “It won’t hurt you. I . . . didn’t know you had a knife. A really big knife.”
“A pity I didn’t get to use it.” Those gilded eyes hard, he sheathed the blade again. “But worth it for the show I suppose. And you need more lessons on this business.”
“Absolutely. That one wasn’t even on the lesson plan.”
“What do you mean?”
“I read it in a book. I guess you could say I added a bar to the jump. It seemed like the time.”
“In a book. She read it in a book. Christ Jesus.”
“I could really use a drink.”
“You’re not alone there.”
She didn’t say more, needed to steady herself. Needed to tell her cousins, she thought again. Needed, really, to sit down on something that didn’t move.
They were nearly back to the stables before she could think clearly, or almost clearly again. “Darling was so scared. For herself, but for you, too. My fire scared her, too. I wish I’d thought of something else.”
“She did just fine. Wanted to bolt, but didn’t. You may not know it, but that one? He was a rock under you. He never, from that first start, flinched a muscle. I’m thinking he would have done whatever you asked, even up to charging through the fire and taking the beast by the scruff.”
“I didn’t have to think. I didn’t have to tell him. He just knew. I need to call Branna.”
“I’ll see to that.”
When they reached the stables, he dismounted, then stepped over to her. “Come on down then.”
“I’m not sure I can.”
“That’s what these are for.” He lifted his hands, took hold of her, helped her down. “Go sit on the bench there for a minute or two.”
“The horses.”
“They’ll be seen to, and well, what do you think?” The sizzle of impatience had her obeying. And her shaky legs carried her to the bench, almost wept with gratitude as she sat.
When Boyle came out, she managed to get to her feet. “I need to do a protection spell, for the stables.”
“Do you think Fin hasn’t already seen to that?” Boyle simply took her arm, pulled her along. “He’s not due home for a few hours, but I think he knows what he’s about in these matters. Branna knows where you are. She’ll tell Connor.”
“Where am I going?”
“Up to mine, where you’ll have that drink and sit a bit more.”
“I could really use both.”
She climbed the stairs with him. Not exactly the circumstances she’d imagined for her first invitation into his place, but she’d take it.
He opened the door off a narrow porch. “Company wasn’t expected.”
She peeked in first, then smiled. “Thank God it’s not all neat and tidy or I’d feel intimidated. But it’s nice.” She s
tepped in, looked around.
It smelled like him—horses, leather, man. The room, a kind of combination living/sitting/kitchen, let in the early evening light. A mug sat next to the sink, a newspaper lay spread on the short counter that separated the kitchen from the rest.
A couple of books and some magazines were scattered around—mystery novels, she noted, and horsey magazines. A tumble of boots in a wooden box, a clutter of old jackets on pegs. A sofa with a little sag in the middle, two big chairs, and, to her surprise, a big flat screen on the wall.
He noticed her speculative look. “I like it for watching matches and such. You’ll have some whiskey.”
“I absolutely will, and a chair. I get shaky after it’s all done.”
“You were steady enough while it counted.”
“I almost lost it.” She spoke as he went to the kitchen, opened cupboards. “You helped me hold on.”
Since she was here, and safe, and it was done, he could speak of it. Or try. “You were glowing like a flame. Your eyes so deep it seemed like worlds could be swallowed up by them. You reached up, and you pulled a storm from the sky with your hand. I’ve seen things.”
He poured whiskey for both of them, brought the glasses back to where she sat, dwarfed in one of the big chairs. “I’ve run tame with Fin most of my life, and Connor, and Branna. I’ve seen things. But never have I seen the like of that.”
“I’ve never felt anything like it. A storm in my hand.” She looked down at it now, turned it, amazed to recognize it, to find it so ordinary. “And a storm inside me. I don’t know how to explain it, but it was inside me, so huge and full. And absolutely right.
“I broke a tree, didn’t I?”
He’d watched it shatter like brittle glass, into shards and splinters. “It could’ve been worse, entirely.”
“Yeah, it could’ve been. But I need more lessons, more practice.” More control, she thought, and more of the famous focus Branna continually harped on.
Then she looked at Boyle. The hard, handsome face, the scarred eyebrow, the tawny eyes with temper still simmering in them.
“You were going to fight it with a knife, with your hands.”
“It bleeds, doesn’t it?”
“I think so. Yes.” She let out one more cleansing breath. “It bleeds. It wasn’t expecting what I did, or could do. Neither was I.”
“I think neither of you will underestimate that again. Drink your whiskey. You’re pale yet.”
“Right.” She sipped at it.
“I think it’s not the night for dinner out with people.”
“Maybe not. But I’m starving. I think it’s something to do with expending all that energy.”