The mare whinnied and pawed at the ground. Before she could get worked up, Kinan moved his stallion between her and Dylan’s horse. Kinan’s eyes bore into the man as he reined his brown stallion to a stop a few paces away. The bastard’s smug smile made Kinan’s fingers twitch all the more. The man had an arm around Deirdre’s midsection, holding her tight against him. The urge to break that arm grew until Kinan knew his fury had to be showing on his face. But, thankfully, Deirdre only had eyes for her mare. Before Dylan’s horse even came to a stop, she swept her skirts to the side and leaped to the ground. In a show of dexterity no pampered woman used only to needlepoint and tea socials could pull off, she hit the ground running.
Wide-eyed and shocked speechless, Kinan watched as she dashed to her prancing horse and hugged her tight around the neck. By the saints, she was one hell of a woman. At her touch, the mare’s head dropped low to allow Deirdre to reach her better. She ceased stomping and her tail relaxed against her rump. The transformation in the mare impressed Kinan almost as much as Deirdre’s leap from Dylan’s horse. The last thought pulled his gaze to the man. Disappointment mingled with surprise in Dylan’s eyes. Kinan had a feeling it was disappointment over Deirdre’s departure rather than her lack of ladylike manners.
“Oh Ciaren! I’m so glad you’re all right! I feared the cougar had gotten you,” Deirdre told the horse.
Kinan raised a brow at Dylan, who only gave him a crooked smile. Ignoring the man, Kinan swung down from his horse. He untied the bundle from his saddle, tucked it under his arm, and approached Deirdre at a brisk walk. With a shake of the heavy blue wool, he unfurled the cloak and held it up at Deirdre’s shoulder level.
“Mrs. Quinn, I’m so relieved to find you unharmed. Here, you must be frightfully cold.”
Relief filled her eyes as she turned and stepped back into the cloak. Her red-tipped fingers fumbled with the clasp, unable to work it. Moving in a bit closer, he hooked the clasp for her and drew the heavy material closed around her. Eyes closing, she let out a sigh.
Long, dark lashes swept up and her sapphire gaze locked onto him. “Thank you ever so much, Kinan. Both for finding Ciaren, and for the cloak,” she said.
Kinan fetched the gloves from the pocket of his breeches and helped her work her chilled fingers into them. Even though it was through layers of material, touching her in such a familiar manner both thrilled him and made him feel unjustly possessive. Once he got the gloves on her, she clutched his hands tight. Her sapphire eyes snagged him as surely as a fly in amber. Amid the gratitude in them, he saw a spark of interest, but it swiftly burned out as if she had snuffed it on purpose. She let go of his hands and took a step back.
“How did you find her?” she asked, turning to her horse. She stroked the mare’s head, checked the buckles on the bridle, and then moved to check the saddle and cinch.
“Truly, she found me, or Balder, rather. I think she may fancy him a bit,” Kinan said.
Did he imagine it, or had Dylan’s gaze narrowed at him and envy flashed through his eyes?
“O’ course, she’s always had an eye for the big, exotic lads,” Deirdre said with a laugh, as she patted the mare’s neck.
Heat surged in Kinan at the comment. Did she know? It was possible Dylan had told her Kinan’s secret, but if so, surely she didn’t mean what he hoped she meant by the comment. Considering the way she had been pulled tight against Dylan, it wasn’t likely she still held any interest in Kinan. More likely, the comment was only a coincidence coupled with his fear that Dylan might have revealed his secret. But would Dylan stoop to such a level? Kinan gave the man a long, hard look. Dylan continued to smile, though the expression began to look a bit tight.
The cowhand cleared his throat. “’Tis a shame your stallion isn’t a thoroughbred, in that case, Kinan. Wouldn’t want to muddle such impeccable bloodlines.” His narrowed gaze suggested the words were another dig to rattle Kinan’s confidence. Though it sowed doubt to be sure, Kinan hid the fact by returning a cold stare.
Deirdre made a dismissive noise. “Oh, I’m not particular about such things, but I’ve no intentions to breed her just yet.” She scratched both sides of the mare’s face and stared her in the eye. “And she’d best not be getting the notion on her own,” she warned the horse. A radiant smile came over her. To Kinan’s dismay, she turned it on Dylan. “You have my deepest thanks for rescuing me from that fall, and for helping me find Ciaren. I am in your debt.”
Dylan’s blond brows wiggled in a most ungentlemanly manner. “You can repay me by allowing me to call on you sometime,” he said.
Deirdre’s head dropped and from beneath her dark, curling locks, her gaze darted between the two men. She seemed to have trouble swallowing. Kinan wished he could believe it was interest in him that caused such a reaction, or at the very least a touch of indecision, but more likely it was due to Dylan’s impropriety. Best not to get his hopes up.
“Mr. O’Toole, I must protest. To make the lady feel obligated to receive you for a service you should have given freely is most inappropriate,” Kinan snapped, moving instinctively between Deirdre and Dylan’s horse.
Dylan rolled his eyes like a spoiled lad. “Lighten up, O’Leary, I was only jesting.”
Movement behind him made Kinan realize Deirdre was preparing to climb into the saddle on her own. Fingers weaving together, he spun around and offered her a hand up. She nodded, her expression guarded. Stepping into the basket of Kinan’s hands, she grabbed Ciaren’s mane. He boosted her, holding her weight with ease while she got a foot in the stirrup and wove her legs around the sidesaddle bars.
“Thank you,” she said with enough formality to make his heart sink.
Had his handling of her been too lingering, too forward? Dammit.
Her lips turned upward slightly as she looked to Dylan. “Mr. O’Toole, I’m certain we’ll see one another again soon at the home sites. Until then.”
While cleverly put, it was still a refusal. For once, Kinan was glad of his tan complexion, for he knew it would hide the blush that scorched his face. The small flush of triumph was another thing altogether. But he didn’t mind Dylan seeing that, not one bit.
Glare disappearing, Dylan tipped his ridiculously wide-brimmed hat to Deirdre, offering up a charming smile that was so big it almost looked predatory. “I look forward to it, lass.” He started to turn his horse, but stopped. “And I do hope you’ll think about what I said.”
Her smile tightened, but she nodded. The look both encouraged and worried Kinan.
Dylan nodded. “Good day to you, Deirdre.” His eyes turned to slivers of blue ice as they flicked to Kinan. “O’Leary.”
Swallowing his rage over Dylan being so familiar as to call Deirdre by her first name, he nodded in return. “O’Toole.”
Kinan’s shoulders didn’t relax until the man’s horse trotted toward the west. Turning, he smiled at Deirdre, only to have the expression wilt away when he found her staring after Dylan. Was that frustration or interest in her eyes? Weighed down by defeat, he returned to his horse and swung up into the saddle. Again, he wondered if Dylan had told her his secret. It wouldn’t be the first time Dylan had ruined Kinan’s chances with a woman by employing that tactic. But, if Deirdre was susceptible to such tactics, she really wasn’t the type of woman Kinan wanted to be with. His head accepted the argument, but his heart was another matter.
He pointed Balder in the direction of home. Some small inkling of victory flashed when Deirdre’s mare followed of her own accord. In only a few steps, he brought his stallion to a halt. Head cocking to the side in a manner both devilish and adorable, Deirdre gave him a curious look. A thrill shot through him that ended in his groin.
“I will escort you to Mr. Ainsworth’s home if that is where you wish to go,” he said.
Her brows rose and she stared at him for a long moment before responding. “You truly would?”
&n
bsp; “Truly.”
Another long moment passed while she looked him over, her curiosity turning to what he thought might be respect. “Thank you, but no. I would like to return to the inn and warm up.”
“But of course, and I’ll have a hot bath drawn for you the moment we arrive.”
She blinked long and slow. “That sounds heavenly, thank you.”
It was wrong to picture her in that bath, bubbles up to her floating breasts…but he did it anyway. The cold afternoon grew considerably warmer. They urged their horses into a trot that carried them swiftly away from the shade of Ainsworth’s hills. Their horses soon fell into a perfectly synchronized rhythm, side by side. Once or twice, Kinan thought he caught Deirdre glancing at him.
While he didn’t want to sound like a jealous fool, he couldn’t hold his tongue after a while. “I do hope Mr. O’Toole was a gentleman with you. Some say he can be a bit…uncivilized at times.”
“God forbid a man be uncivilized,” she murmured, or at least he thought that was what she had said. The clop of horses’ hooves nearly drowned out her low voice, so it was hard to tell.
“I didn’t mean to imply that anything untoward happened, or to besmirch your character in any way. My deepest apologies if it came across that way,” he said quietly.
Deirdre shook her head sharply once to the left and to the right. “No apology is necessary.” She sounded defeated, and disappointed. In what, he could only guess. Why, he could fathom even less. He had tried so hard to do and say everything right. He was just so bad at this. A desperate need to recover came over him.
“You’re a smart, capable woman, and I admire that about you. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise,” he said.
Her lips inched up into a smile. “Thank you,” she said with genuine feeling. Chest expanding with a deep breath that made her breasts rise, her mouth opened as if she wanted to say more. But no words came. After a few strides, she closed her mouth.
He waited for a solid quarter of a mile, hoping she might change her mind and speak her thoughts. As they rode, he stole glances at her. Several curling strands of her beautiful black hair had come free and bounced on her dainty shoulders with each stride. Dim as the light was, it still managed to dance along the silky strands. God, she was beautiful, so beautiful and fierce it made him shiver. Or maybe that was the cold.
Now that he focused on it, he realized it had grown considerably colder. He looked up expecting to see a cloud moving over the sun, but instead saw a huge, dark gray mass of them moving in swiftly from the horizon. On the breeze came the heady, earthy scent of damp dirt and trees. Sheets of rain swept over the hills, all but obscuring them in the moment he looked. From the amount of ground the front was eating up, he knew they wouldn’t be able to outrun it. With Deirdre already so cold, the damp could make her sick. That left him only one option.
Pointing his horse toward the southwest, he told Deirdre, “Follow me, please.”
A gentle squeeze of both legs propelled his stallion into a gallop. Deirdre caught up in only a few strides. Wind whipped at her long hair, having pulled it mostly free of the bun that bound it. “We can’t outrun it. We should go back to the forest,” she called to him.
“No time, and I have a better place,” he said.
He more than half-expected an argument, but she only nodded and kept riding. The pace she kept was impressive, especially for one riding sidesaddle. He had to let the reins out and allow Balder to run at full speed to even keep alongside her. Smiling, he leaned into the moist wind. A fat drop of rain splashed onto the back of his right hand, getting nearly half of it wet. Another plopped on his arm, darkening his maroon-colored cotton sleeve. They crested a slight hill and started to run down the other side. In a hollow halfway down, surrounded by four massive oak trees, lay their destination. Nestled beneath the mostly naked arms of the oaks crouched a small dwelling most would consider a hovel, despite the fine condition Kinan kept it in.
Anxiety twisted him up inside. Never had he shown this place to anyone outside of his family, and he certainly didn’t want Deirdre to see it before she got to know him better. But it was either take her here to wait out the storm and get her warmed up, or keep riding and risk her getting ill from being cold and wet. What she thought of him hardly mattered in comparison to her health. Rain began to pour down on them as if to solidify his fate. It fell so hard the bounce-back spray made it look like Deirdre and her horse rode through a thick mist.
Pointing toward the trees, Kinan slowed his horse to a trot. Balder slipped now and then on the slick grass, forcing Kinan to lean back in the saddle. After a few dozen yards, the steepness of the hill mellowed. By the time they reached the dwelling, his woolen cloak felt like it had tripled in weight. From the knees down he was soaked through, and a steady stream ran down the back of his neck. Cold seeped all the way down into his bones. He could only hope Deirdre’s cloak had kept her drier.
The torrent of rain ceased to assault him as soon as they rode beneath the roof that extended off the side of the dwelling. He nosed Balder all the way up to the stack of firewood against the house. It made for just enough room to get the big stallion’s rear out of the weather. At over twenty feet long, the overhang was easily big enough for both horses to fit in. It had originally been designed for firewood storage, but Kinan had since redesigned it to corral a horse as well. From the look of the dark skies, the horses wouldn’t have much choice but to use it.
Not bothering with the stirrups, he kicked his feet free and leaped down. He wrapped Balder’s reins around the hitching post in front of him. It would have to do for a moment. Two long strides carried him to Ciaren, where he reached up and grabbed Deirdre around the waist. Her eyes widened behind strands of wet hair, but she allowed him to lift her from the saddle and set her on her feet.
He let go the moment she appeared steady. “I do hope you will pardon me, but I feared you might fall from being so cold,” he said.
Something flashed in her eyes. Was it disappointment over him letting go? It came and went too fast for him to be sure. No, certainly not from such a refined New York lady. Likely, he merely wanted her to be disappointed so much that he had imagined it.
She put a hand against Ciaren’s wet shoulder to steady herself and looked up at him from beneath her long lashes. He stirred in his wet breeches. “Thank you, Mr. O’Leary. I fear I would have indeed fallen.”
Ah, so it had been gratitude, then. But of course it had. What had he been thinking? While he tied her horse for her, she studied the earthen walls rising up beyond the woodpile.
“What is this place?” she asked, voice full of wonder.
Surprise widened his eyes. His fear about bringing her here eased a bit. But he hadn’t taken her inside yet. “It’s my family’s original homestead. My father and grandfather built it together. I keep it in good condition out of nostalgia,” he said, feeling the need to explain before she saw the inside. Afraid she might still be unsteady, he offered her his arm. “We can wait out the storm inside. Once I get you settled, I will return and tend to the horses.”
She had enough heat left in her to blush, though it barely showed on her lovely sun-kissed skin. If she held any reservations about going into a building with him without a proper escort, he couldn’t be sure, because she accepted his arm.
“I shall be the utmost gentleman, you need not worry,” he assured her.
She nodded, using the motion to hide her expression behind her hair. She hadn’t struck him as the demure type, so the reaction surprised him a bit. Could it be she hid her expression for another reason? Likely she was worried about her reputation, as any lady would be. His gaze followed the raindrops that trailed down into her wonderfully deep cleavage. The desire to lick that rain away pumped blood straight down to his groin. Turning his head, he forced himself to look at the heavy oak door they approached. Being a fine New York lady, surely she didn’t har
bor such lascivious thoughts as a small-town man like himself. If he could not rein in his desire, he would surely lose any thread of a chance he might still have with her.
The weather-swollen door creaked a bit as he opened it. He stepped aside and allowed Deirdre to enter first. With the only window to the main room shuttered, the light from the open door was the only illumination. Undaunted, Deirdre strode into the dark room without hesitation. Such a show of bravery and trust thrilled him. Not a single woman in this town would go into a dark room with him. But then, they had heard the stories. He still wasn’t sure if Deirdre had. So, perhaps it wasn’t trust after all.
Eyes widening, Deirdre did a slow turn to take in the large room. Her gaze snagged on the colorful tapestries that covered the earthen walls, some reaching all the way up to where the domed ceiling began to arch. Unlike the ones at the inn, these depicted subjects and acts too questionable for the judging eyes of society. One tapestry focused on a muscular warrior wearing only a loincloth and elaborate headdress of feathers and gold, arms spread wide as if beseeching the stars stretched above the pyramid he stood atop. Another depicted a sunrise through stone sculptures with a starry sky fading above, a third, scantily clad warriors playing a deadly game with a ball amid a stone city of idols and statues. Deirdre walked to the one with the man atop the pyramid.
Breath caught in his throat, Kinan waited for her response. He readied himself for her disgust, scandal, or even fear. Such things were not shown in proper society—which was part of why he kept them here.
She stroked the colorful threads with a gentle caress that seemed close to reverence. Her gaze perused every inch of the art. That particular tapestry depicted a Mayan stone observatory for the stars. A smile slowly spread across her lips. Kinan let out a breath and drew in another. Wonder filled her eyes as she turned to look at him.
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