popular spot on the weekends. I don’t think making love in the middle of the day is an option.”
He made a disappointed face. “Then we will have to make do with enthusiastic necking, or we can come back to your place.”
“We can do both.” She lifted up on her toes and kissed him back. “I need to change.” She glanced down at his loafers. “You don’t happen to have boots, do you?”
“Are riding boots required? Other than these, I only have flip-flops and running shoes.”
Evidently, David wasn’t much of a horseman.
“Running shoes can provide the grip, but you need at least a two-and-a-half-centimeter heel to help your feet stay in the stirrup and not slide through it. Good riding boots also support your legs and ankles, making it easier to maintain a correct leg position.”
He didn’t look convinced. “Indians rode barefoot or in moccasins, and they were excellent riders.”
“We are in Scotland, David. I know nothing about Indians and their riding style. You need boots.” She glanced at his feet again. “Size eleven?”
“Twelve.”
“American twelve is British eleven.” She pulled out her phone and called the stables’ manager. “Fergus. Do you have any size eleven riding boots left?”
“I sure do. Who needs them?”
As if he didn’t know.
“David and I want to tour the grounds, but he didn’t bring with him any footwear that is appropriate for riding.”
“Are you on your way?”
“We are just heading out. We will be there in a few minutes.”
8
David
“I hope the boots are new.” David followed Sari into the stables. “I have a thing about wearing someone else’s footwear.”
She cast him an incredulous glance. “I would never have you wear used boots. One of my clan members makes them. But just so you know, they will probably need some light breaking in.”
“Not at all.” A smiling immortal walked toward them with a pair of brand-new black boots dangling from his hand. “This leather is as soft as butter.” He offered David his other hand. “Fergus at your service.”
“Thank you.” He shook what was offered and then took the boots. “Do you keep them on hand in all sizes?”
“Pretty much. Once Vernon decided that the readymade stuff wasn’t good enough, he started making these by hand, and he brings me a couple of pairs every day. I’m doing the selling for him, but the supply exceeds the demand. I told him that he needs to start advertising them online.”
“How much do I owe you? Or rather Vernon?”
Fergus shook his head. “Those are on the house.”
“I’ll pay for them,” Sari said.
“Vernon wouldn’t hear of that.”
“I insist. Have you ever known me to accept free stuff from our artists?” She pointed at the boots. “And those are artisan quality.”
David smoothed his hand over the soft leather. “They feel amazing. But if anyone is paying for them, it is me.” He cast Sari a stern look that didn’t leave room for negotiation.
“Fine.” She turned to Fergus. “How much is Vernon charging for the boots?”
“Two hundred pounds, which is a bargain given the quality.”
As David patted his back pocket, he recalled that his wallet was still in his satchel back at Sari’s place. “I have to go back to get my wallet.”
Fergus waved a hand in dismissal. “Rubbish. You can bring me the money later. Vernon is not in a rush to get paid.” He sized David up. “What’s your skill level?”
“Beginner,” David admitted.
Even though Sari didn’t look surprised, she arched a brow. “I thought that you’d ridden before.”
David smiled sheepishly. “When I was a kid, my mother took Jonah and me to ride ponies almost every weekend. But that was a long time ago, and all we did was trot in circles around a corral.”
“Not a problem.” Fergus clapped him on the back. “I’ll get you a very gentle horse.”
When the guy returned with the animals, the black one approached Sari and nudged her hand.
“Hello, Handsome.” She patted him fondly. “By the way, that’s his name.”
“You named your horse Handsome?”
“Why not?”
“Indeed. He’s a good-looking animal.” David patted the neck of the brown one. “Hello, buddy. Are we going to be good friends today?”
As if the animal understood, he nodded his head.
“Hey, he can understand me.”
Fergus laughed. “Moray nods his head at anything that sounds like a question.” He patted the horse’s flank. “Are you a unicorn, Moray?”
The horse nodded.
“Can you fly?”
The horse nodded again.
Fergus laughed. “You see?”
David shrugged. “After what I’ve seen and heard so far, a flying unicorn that is shrouded to look like a normal brown horse would not