cared for the idea of her and Iona going out at all, or would have insisted on going with them.
She wore riding boots she hadn’t put on in years, and had to admit it felt good. And what felt even better was saddling Aine herself.
“We don’t know each other well as yet, so I hope you’ll let Iona know if you’ve any problems with me.” She took a moment to come around the filly’s head, stroke her cheeks, look into her eyes.
“He’d have wanted you for your beauty and grace alone, for you have both in full measure. But he sensed you were for me, and I for you. If that’s the way of it, I’ll do my best for you. That’s an oath. I made this for you today,” she added, and braided a charm into Aine’s mane with a bright red ribbon. “For protection, as mine or not, I’ll protect you.”
“She thinks you’re nearly as pretty as she is,” Iona told Branna.
With a laugh, Branna stepped over to adjust the stirrups to her liking. “Now then that’s a fine compliment.”
“With you on her back, you’ll make a picture—which is something she’s happy to make for Alastar.”
“Let’s make one then.” With Iona she led the horses out of the stables, vaulted into the saddle as if it had been only yesterday.
“Do we have a plan?” Iona leaned over the saddle to pat Alastar’s neck.
“Sometimes it’s best to take things as they come.”
They walked to the road, with Kathel and Bugs prancing along with them.
“I can’t call the hawk,” Iona said.
“They’ll come if needed. Though that would’ve been a thought, wouldn’t it, to ride out with all the guides. What do you say to a canter?”
“I say yay.”
Graceful, Branna thought again when Aine responded and broke into a bright canter. And flirtatious, Branna added, as she didn’t need to have Iona’s gift to interpret the way Aine tossed her mane.
She glanced back, saw that the faithful Kathel slowed his own pace to stay with Bugs, felt her lips curve at the happiness beaming from both of them.
So she let herself just enjoy.
The cool air, with a sharpness in it that told her more snow would come. The scent of the trees and horses, the steady beat of hooves.
Maybe she had taken too little time for too long a time if a little canter down the road brought her such a lift in spirit.
She felt in tune with the horse. Fin would be right, she admitted, as he was never wrong on such matters. For whatever reason, Aine would be hers, and the partnership between them began now.
They turned onto the path into the trees where the air was cooler yet. Small pools of snow lay in shadows where they’d formed in a previous fall, and a bird chattered on a bough.
They slowed to an easy trot.
“She’s hoping, and so’s Alastar, we’ll head to some open before it’s done for a gallop.”
“I wouldn’t mind it. I haven’t gone this way in more than a year. I’d nearly forgotten how lovely it can be in winter, how hushed and alone.”
“I’ll never get used to it,” Iona told her. “Could never take any of it for granted. I don’t know how many guideds I’ve done through here this last year, and still every one is a wonder.”
“It doesn’t bore you, a horsewoman of your skills, just plodding along?”
“You’d think it would, but it doesn’t. The people are usually interesting, and I’m getting paid for riding a horse. Then . . .” Iona wiggled her eyebrows. “I get to sleep with the boss. It’s a good deal all around.”
“We could circle around on the way back, go by your house.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. They were supposed to—maybe—start putting up drywall today. Connor’s been a champ, making time to get over there and pitch in.”
“Sure he loves the building, and he’s clever with it.”
In unison they turned to walk the horses along the river.
The air chilled, and Branna saw the first fingers of fog.
“We’ve company,” she murmured to Iona.
“Yeah. Okay.”
“Keep the horses calm, won’t you, and I’ll do the same with the hounds.”
He came as a man, handsome and hard, dressed in black with silver trim. Branna noted he’d been vain enough to do a glamour as his face glowed with health and color.
He swept them a deep bow.
“Ladies. What a grand sight you make on a winter’s day.”
“Do you have so little to occupy yourself,” Branna began, “that you spend all your