and people like you?”
How did he see himself? she wondered. She knew how she saw him.
Tall, strong, gloriously handsome, and absolutely sure of himself.
“People like you are born confident. They take charge, command respect, maybe some healthy fear. People like me are taught and expected to follow rules, to keep expectations low, rock no boats, make no waves.”
“Well, rules matter in a civilized world, don’t they? But a low expectation doesn’t risk failure or success, so what’s the point of that? If you rock no boat, you never end up in the water to see where the waves might take you.”
“That’s all very true and literal.”
The horse turned his head, nuzzled her shoulder. Without thinking, she stroked his cheek. “You need to go. He’s thirsty and wants his carrot.”
The minute she said it—knew it—she stepped back in shock.
Keegan merely nodded, his eyes on her face. “Aye, he does, as we’ve had a good, strong ride.”
He bent down, gave Bollocks a rub, then swung back onto the horse.
“Safe journeys, Breen Siobhan.”
When he rode off, she let out a breath. “The horse is Merlin, after Arthur’s sorcerer. I know that as well as I know my own name. Let’s go, Bollocks. I have a lot of studying to do.”
Something about the quiet alone soothed her like a warm bath, so she spent two days soaking in it. She wrote, she studied, tended the garden with only the dog for company.
She lit candles—the new way—and after considerable effort sent the fire crackling in the hearth.
“I’m a witch,” she told Bollocks as she sat with him in front of that fire with the echoes of power still vibrating inside her. “And it doesn’t feel surprising anymore.”
She stroked the head he laid on her knee, gave his beard a gentle tug. “Just like having a dog doesn’t feel surprising now, though what I’m going to do with you if I go back to Philadelphia, I don’t know.”
If, she realized—and that did surprise. She’d said, and thought, if, not when.
“Of course I’ll go back—I have to go back. Marco and Sally and Derrick are there, and my mother, everything I know is there. This is just . . .”
A bridge? she wondered.
Like she was.
“No point thinking about it now. We’ll reward ourselves for a good day of work with a walk before it gets too dark.”
One moon, she thought as the dog raced straight for the bay. Nearly three-quarters full and hazed by clouds.
Tomorrow, after her morning writing, she’d leave her solitude behind for a world with two moons.
And even that didn’t seem so shocking anymore.
She left at noon with the dog leading the way. She wore the red stone around her neck, added her father’s ring to the chain. She’d pulled on a light hoodie the color of the forest with a T-shirt and jeans.
When they reached the tree, Bollocks didn’t hesitate. With a happy bark, he climbed up and through. Breen followed, and stepped into the wonder of a thin, soft drizzle the sun turned into a double rainbow.
It arched over the farm, a curve of shimmering colors. As she made her way down the steps, a dragon, red as the stone around her neck, soared under it.
Solitude, she thought, yes, she prized it. But this? She’d been given a priceless treasure in this.
The dog leaped over the fence, raced across the road and over the farm fence to run mad circles around the wolfhound.
Beyond them, in a paddock, she saw Harken and Mahon at the head of a chestnut horse. A mare—obviously, Breen concluded—as Keegan held the bridle of his horse while the black stallion mounted her.
Both horses, all three of the men gleamed with sweat.
She’d never seen anything like it, found it powerful, sensual, and a little frightening as she stood on the grassy shoulder of the dirt road, watching.
The dog’s barks alerted Harken. When he glanced her way, he called out, “Good morning to you, Breen! We’re helping start a life here. You’re welcome to take a part.”
She thought: No. But she did climb over the fence to walk closer. And could feel, as she did, the lust, the pleasure, the ferocity from both animals in the mating.
It stirred in her own belly, heated in her own blood, and drew her to the paddock fence.
“Our pretty Eryn’s in season,” Mahon told her. He’d tied back his braids, much as Marco often did. “Merlin’s more than happy to have a go.”
“I can see that. You have to, ah, help? I assumed it