Brant's Return

by Mia Sheridan

  “What else did you dream about, Isabelle?”

  Her eyes shifted away and she flushed subtly, and oh God, I wanted to know what she was thinking just then, but I was almost afraid to ask for some reason beyond me.

  “Oh, the normal dreams of a young girl I suppose—love and . . .” Her face did something funny, her eyes registering a flash of pain before she gave her head a small shake. “Anyway”—she met my gaze—“you know what’s funny? We both had portals to other places. I dreamed of a place just like this and here I am. You dreamed of a place like New York City and there you are.”

  What she was saying was accurate, but something about it didn’t feel quite right. Yes, I’d left Kentucky, left Graystone Hill, but I suddenly felt as if this place was as much a part of me as the life I’d created in New York. If someone had told me a week ago that I’d ever think that again, I’d have laughed them out of town.

  I looked at Belle to find her studying me and she smiled when our eyes met. “Lying in that hayloft, I used to get this feeling inside me . . . sort of like a choir, rising, falling, only one without sound. It would squeeze at my heart one second and then make it feel lighter than air the next.” Her lips tipped into a small smile, and I wanted to freeze time and study her for hours just the way she was in that moment: arms hanging loose by her sides, face tilted to the sky, a beam of light caressing her and making her skin appear golden. She was a vision. Where did you come from? Where have you been? “When I was young, I thought that feeling . . . was God.” She brought her head down, turning and smiling at me. “Once, my teacher, Mrs. Hastings, asked me to define God. I told her He was that feeling of a bird taking flight in your chest.” She laughed softly, shooting me an embarrassed glance. “That didn’t go over well—it was not the lesson she’d taught—and I spent the rest of that day facing the corner.” She paused and then gave a small shake of her head. “Anyway, I haven’t had that feeling for a long time, but it’s . . . here. Thank you.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I was captivated, completely mesmerized by her. I felt like the schoolboy I’d been the last time I was here—enamored by a girl far beyond my league. But I wasn’t. I was a man and she was a woman and the electricity that sparked between us compelled me to take the few steps to where she stood, clasping her hands in mine and lacing our fingers together.

  Her gaze fluttered down to our joined hands, and then she slowly lifted her eyes, meeting mine. The moment felt . . . holy . . . as if the trees around us—those mighty sentinels—were holding their breath for just a moment, waiting. Kiss her. Isabelle’s lips parted and I leaned in, bringing my mouth to hers softly, gently, a mere brushing of lips before I pressed forward, needing more, needing to taste, to explore.

  Oh God, her taste. I knew it as if I’d experienced it before, as if I remembered it on an elemental level. It was crazy, and maybe I was too. But right then, I didn’t care about anything except her mouth touching mine, her body pressed against my own. Fire ran through me. My stomach, my veins.

  I ran my tongue along her bottom lip and she let out a small, breathy sound that shot straight between my legs. I hardened and swelled, pressing against her more firmly. Our bodies meshed as I unlaced our fingers and brought my hands to her face, tilting my head as her mouth opened beneath mine and I plunged my tongue inside. God, she was delicious. She met my tongue with her own and gave a gentle suck, sending a spark of lust that went spiraling to my cock. I was painfully hard, needy, desperate. Hot. A sound vibrated between us that spoke of all those things, and I supposed I was the one who’d made it, though I wasn’t completely sure.

  Isabelle brought her arms up, threading her fingers into the back of my hair and it felt so damn good. When was the last time I’d felt this raw sensory overload? This feeling that everything inside me was quickening, spinning, coming alive in some mysterious way I had no way to explain or even understand. The intensity of my hunger for her shocked me.

  Belle’s hands suddenly dropped from my hair as she pulled away, our mouths coming apart with a wet-sounding pop. I almost stumbled forward but caught myself. Belle’s eyes were wide as she looked at me, her mouth still wet from our kiss, her cheeks flushed deep pink. Something surged inside me, something possessive and unfamiliar. We both stepped back, away.

  “I . . .” She took a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling as she winced slightly. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what . . . I shouldn’t have—”

  “I kissed you, Belle.”

  Her eyes found mine and then skittered away. She gave a small, uncomfortable laugh. “Yes,” she said, her voice breathy. “And I kissed you back. I shouldn’t have. I mean . . .” She bit her lip, looking troubled, uncertain, maybe a little bit shy. “Not that it wasn’t nice. You’re, ah . . .”

  “An incredible kisser?”

  She blinked and then laughed, the sudden discomfort between us diminishing. “You are that.”

  I studied her for a second, feeling unsure myself, out of my element. Rejected. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, Belle. It was just a kiss.” Even as I spoke the words, I knew it was a lie. It wasn’t just a kiss.

  Her knowing eyes moved over my face before she looked away, nodding. “Should we go?”

  She turned and pushed the brush aside in the same spot where we’d entered. I glanced behind me, memorizing the space, picturing Belle standing within it as she’d been only moments before. I tried to hold the wonder, the peace I felt inside me, because I knew I wouldn’t be back here again.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Isabelle

  The next couple of days were filled with rain as the temperature dropped and the heavens opened. I stayed in the house, working in the office, trying my best to steer clear of Brant. What had I been thinking, kissing him? I brought my fingers to my mouth, recalling the feel of his strong but soft lips on mine, the taste of him, the way he’d kissed so . . . masterfully. My God, the man should give lessons. How easy it would be to get swept away . . . Perhaps a part of me already was. What a difference only a handful of days could make. Brant had made unfair assumptions about me, but I’d done the same with him. I’d assumed there was nothing under that pretentious exterior he presented to the world, when the truth was, there was so much more.

  Strangely, I didn’t exactly regret kissing him. I’d been scared, uncertain directly afterward, afraid the kiss would bring up all sorts of emotions I wouldn’t handle well. But, the opposite had been true. I’d been fine, and the knowledge gave me strength, and a dose of optimism, that in one regard anyway, I had healed.

  The last man I’d kissed—and until two days before, the only man—had been my husband. I didn’t have any interest in pursuing anything more, and I would wager all the tea in China that Brant didn’t either, but to know that I could experience physical pleasure with someone else and not suffer emotional fallout was a gift beyond measure. It brought hope, the belief that someday . . . someday maybe I’d find happiness in the arms of someone else.

  And what about a family, Belle? What about that?

  A flare of panic, a small resurgence of grief flowed through me, my heart fluttering and stealing my breath. That familiar feeling of . . . betrayal that even a thought could bring. I shut my eyes, and after a moment the worst of it passed, though a feeling of melancholy lingered on the outskirts of my heart.

  Close to six, I left the office and went into the kitchen, greeting May with a smile. “If you have dinner ready for Mr. Talbot, I’ll take it up.”

  “Sure do. Let me just get it on a tray. His appetite seems especially hearty since he came home from the hospital. It’s a good sign.”

  I nodded in agreement. I’d noticed the same thing, and it brought relief. “I thought the rain was supposed to let up today,” May continued as she ladled soup into a bowl and glanced past me at the window. “Instead it’s coming down harder than it did yesterday. Cats and dogs my father used to say.”

  “I know. The training yard is practically a river. All the hors
es are antsy, but what can you do?” I shrugged.

  “Speaking of antsy,” she said. “I’m surprised Brant is still here. I’d have thought he’d be chomping at the bit to get back to his life in New York.” She set a roll and a small dish of butter on the tray. “Gives me some hope that he’s more invested in working things out with Harrison than he might admit.”

  I took the tray from May, biting at my lip for a moment. “I don’t know. I hope so too. When I called Brant, I didn’t realize the extent to which those two are cut from the same cloth, you know?”

  “Oh they are that.” May smiled kindly. “In any case, I think it’s been good for Brant to be here, remember where he came from. Seems he’s done a mighty fine job of forgetting all these years. He’s practically been living at the stables these past few days.” Yes, I’d noticed that too.

  I opened my mouth to respond to May when Jeff, one of the men who worked at the stables, came into the kitchen. He was drenched from head to toe, running a hand over his wet hair.

  “Oh for heaven’s sake,” May exclaimed. “You’re going to create a puddle on my floor. Here,” she said, tossing him the towel hanging on the back of the stove.

  He took it with a thank you, wiping at his face and the front of his shirt. He took a seat at the counter, his hands obviously trembling with cold. “Thanks, May. You got any coffee left?”

  “My goodness, you look freezing. What are you doing out there catching your death?” She slid a cup of steaming coffee in front of him and he wrapped his hands around the mug, sighing.

  “Mona Lisa and her foal got out of the pen in the south pasture and Mick and I went to collect ’em. Brant came along and we found Mona Lisa but not the foal. Almost everyone went home for the night. We’ll have to look for her in the morning.”

  My blood ran cold, and I placed the tray down on the counter. “In the morning?” I rasped, disbelief clear in my tone. The sun hadn’t even set yet. Morning was a lifetime away.

  Jeff looked at me, his expression a mixture of grim and confused as he nodded. “Yeah. It’ll be getting dark pretty soon here and the stream is overflowing from all the rain. It isn’t safe out there.”

  I shook my head, trying to stop the buzzing, my skin prickling. “But the foal, Starshine, she’s only a baby.”

  Jeff’s eyes tightened at the corners and he tilted his head. “She’s a horse. She’ll be fine.”

  “No,” I said, backing out of the kitchen. My eyes flew to May’s worried gaze. “May, will you take Mr. Talbot his dinner? I have to . . .” I shook my head again, turning and running for the door, not bothering with an umbrella.

  My sneaker-clad feet sloshed in the mud puddles lining the side of the road to the stable, and when I burst breathlessly into the dry space, Brant and Mick turned, twin expressions of surprise greeting me.

  “Isabelle?” Brant asked, moving toward me. His jeans were dark with rain, his shirt mostly dry, but I saw two coats hanging from a hook, dripping water onto the wooden floor. “Is it my dad?”

  “What?” I shook my head. “Oh, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I heard about Mona Lisa and Starshine.” Just then, I heard braying from the stall nearest the wall, and I turned on my heel, rushing to where Mona Lisa was standing at the door of her stall, nickering and moving from foot to foot in place. My heart squeezed tightly in my chest, and the panic I’d felt in the kitchen rose in my throat. I reached out to pet Mona Lisa’s face. “It’s okay, girl. It’s okay. We’re going to find your baby girl. Don’t worry, okay?” My voice almost broke and desperation clawed at my bones. I opened her stall and began leading her out. Her saddle was removed and she’d obviously just been brushed.

  “Belle, what are you doing? We just got her settled.”

  “Her baby is out there,” I said, sucking in a small breath. “You can’t get her settled without her baby. Do you know anything about mothers?”

  Brant’s expression was a study in uncertainty as his eyes moved over my face. “Starshine will be fine. She’ll survive without her mother for one night. It’s the safest thing to do. You weren’t out with us, Belle. The pastures are flooded and the stream has overflowed. Starshine will find a dry spot under a tree and we’ll go out in the morning when there’s light to see by and bring her home.”

  Behind me, Mona Lisa nickered softly again. “No.” I moved past him, heading toward the saddles.

  “Belle—”

  I whirled on him. “I don’t need your permission to go out there and bring this mother to her baby, Brant. I’m going with or without your approval. It’s still light. Once we find Starshine, if it’s not safe to come back, we’ll find shelter and wait until the sun rises. But I am not leaving her out there alone.” I was shaking slightly now and my hands trembled as I grabbed the equipment and began saddling Mona Lisa.

  After a minute, strong hands lifted the saddle out of my hands. My head turned swiftly, ready to rip into Brant again, but he simply lifted the saddle and placed it on Mona Lisa. He looked at me, his mouth a grim line but his eyes full of something that looked . . . tender. Empathetic. “Then I’ll go with you.”

  **********

  The squelching sound of water-saturated earth met our ears as we led the horses carefully through the pasture. I wanted to pick up the pace, but knew it wasn’t safe under these conditions. The last thing I’d want to do is risk injury to Mona Lisa or Newton, the horse Brant was riding. The rain was still falling and seemed to pick up as we made it to the stream, swelling over the bank and pouring into the fields. We left a wide berth knowing that where the ground was soft, the horses risked stumbling.

  I couldn’t risk Mona Lisa. Starshine was out there, and she needed her mama.

  She needed her mama. That clawing desperation increased and I choked back a sob, tilting my head to the sky and letting the rain mix with the tears I didn’t want Brant to know I was crying. Oh God. I was making this about me—about my desperate longing—yet I couldn’t contain it, refused to suppress it until I reunited mother and foal. Safe. Unharmed. Together.

  We rode on, Brant taking the lead, glancing back at me now and again, the concern on his face clear. He had to think I was crazy, irrational, but I couldn’t care about that now.

  The sun set, and the sky grew dim above us as we searched, weaving through groupings of trees, the rain drumming insistently on the ground. I whistled for Starshine but knew the sound wouldn’t carry very far over the pelting rain. Mona Lisa was whinnying as if she too was calling for her baby, and the awful sound made me want to weep, to fall to my knees, to scream a million whys toward the sky.

  Get it together, Isabelle. Get it together.

  “Over there,” I heard Brant call, his deep voice cutting through the thundering weather. I swiveled my head and cried out when I spotted the foal standing on the opposite side of the stream, whinnying for help. My heart stuttered as I let out a sound of both relief and despair. We’d have to ride away from her to go around the swirling water before we came back again. “Come on,” Brant said again, moving forward. “I think we can cross if we go up here a little ways. It’s a lot narrower right over that slope.” I didn’t know how he knew that but I followed him anyway, trusting. Wait, he knew that because he’d grown up here. He must know every tree, every fence line and boulder that was a part of this land.

  And thank God he remembered. Thank God.

  The sky dimmed further, a sliver of moon appearing overhead. Not much to see by, but it was something. I followed Brant’s dark form and when he stopped, I stopped with him, looking at the place he’d chosen to cross. The water was a dark, foamy swirl in front of us, and I hesitated. It was narrower here, but we still couldn’t see what was beneath the surface. We’d have to move very, very slowly, allowing the horses to test every step.

  Brant led the way again, Newton putting up some resistance, but ultimately trusting Brant’s lead and moving through the dark water. It wasn’t deep, but the water churned, so Brant allowed the horse to move at
his own pace. I led Mona Lisa into the water, moving as carefully as Brant, letting her choose her steps without guiding or nudging. We were across in a matter of minutes and I let out a sigh of relief.

  Brant turned immediately toward the place we’d seen Starshine. The lump in my chest moved into my throat as we drew closer. I heard her before I saw her, whinnying pitifully from beneath a tree at the edge of the stream, and even though I’d meant to walk slowly, I couldn’t help nudging Mona Lisa forward, letting her trot to her baby who moved toward her as well. They came together just as a loud crack of thunder sounded above, Starshine letting out a startled whinny, her trembling body moving beneath that of her mother, finding her milk-swollen udder and latching on. I slid from Mona Lisa, my hot tears mixing with the rain. Something broke inside me to see mother and daughter reunited, the baby nursing sloppily—desperately—as Mona Lisa reached her neck around, nuzzling with her nose, her breath coming out in soft snuffing sounds.

  Every harrowing, searing emotion I’d kept mostly contained since that moment in the basement came rushing to the surface and I leaned in to Mona Lisa, pressing my face into her coarse hair and crying. Your baby is safe. I could feel my shoulders shaking with my sobs, and knew Brant must know. But I couldn’t seem to stop as the terror, the grief—the unfathomable heartache—rose from inside me, spilling uncontrollably beneath a dark, rainy sky. I wrapped my arms around Mona Lisa’s neck, turning my face to the side and expelling a tearful breath. “There you go. You’re together now. There you go. There you go.” My voice sounded soggy, choked with pain.