Gingham Bride - By Jillian Hart Page 0,5

red gingham dress ruffle peeking from beneath her somber gray coat. Shock filled him. “You are Fiona O’Rourke?”

“Yes, and just who is the baboon who has chased off my da’s horse and will likely cost me my supper?” She lifted her chin, setting it so that it did not look delicate at all but stubborn and porcelain steel. She looked angry, aye, but there was something compelling about Miss O’Rourke and it wasn’t her unexpected beauty. Never in his life had he seen such immense sadness.

Chapter Two

Who was this strange man towering over her and what was he doing in her family’s fields? Fiona swiped her eyes, trying to see the intruder more clearly. The storm enfolded him, blurring the impressive width of his powerful shoulders and casting his face in silhouette. The high, wide brim of his hat added mystery; he was surely no one she had seen on the country roads or anywhere in town. He did not seem to have a single notion of what he had just done, scaring off Flannigan again, when she’d almost had his halter in a firm grip.

“What possessed you to trespass into our fields?” She was working up a good bit of mad. Time had to be running out. She had not been watching the road well, but Da’s sled might come down the road at any moment. She had no time to waste. “Why are you here?”

“I heard your singing.”

“What? And you felt you had to join in the caroling?” Men. She had little use for them. Aside from her brother, she did not know a single one without some selfish plan. “Go sing somewhere else. I have a horse to catch.”

“Then hop up.” He held out his hand, wide palmed, the leather of his expensive driving gloves worn and thin in spots.

“Hop up? You mean ride with you?” Was the man delusional? She took a step back. Angel County was a safe, family place, but trouble wandered through every now and then on the back of a horse. The ruffian in front of her certainly looked like trouble with his quality hat, polished boots and wash-worn denims. And his horse, there was something familiar about the big bay who was reaching out toward her coat pockets as if seeking a treat.

“Riley?” Her chin dropped in shock, and she knew her mouth had to be hanging open unattractively. She could hear her parents’ voices in her head. Close your mouth, Fiona. With your sorry looks you don’t want to make anything worse, for then we’ll never be rid of ya.

She snapped her jaw shut, her teeth clacking. “What are you doing on our horse?”

“I know your father” was all he said.

“My da was driving Riley. Does that mean he is back home so soon?”

“Aye.” His brogue was a trace, but it sent shivers down her spine. Something familiar teased at the edges of her mind, but it wasn’t stronger than the panic.

“My father is home,” she repeated woodenly. “Then he must know the other workhorse has gone missing.”

“Afraid so. We had a good view of you racing after the horse from the crest of the road.” His hand remained outstretched. “Do you want me to catch him for you, or do you want to come?”

She withered inside. It was too late, then. She would be punished even if she brought the horse back, and if not, then who knew what would happen? This strange man’s eyes were kind, shadowed as they were. Yet all she could see was a long punishment stretching out ahead of her. After the strap, she would be sent to her tiny attic room, where she would spend her time when she was not doing her share of the work. And that was if she brought the horse back.

If she lost Flannigan, she could not let herself imagine what her parents would do. This man had no stake in finding the horse. She did not understand why he was helping her, but her hand shot out. The storm was worsening. There wasn’t a lot of time. “Take me with you.”

“All right, then.” He clasped her with surprising strength and swept her into the air. Her skirts billowed, the heel of her high barn boot lightly brushed Riley’s flank and she landed breathlessly behind the man, her hand still in his.

“Who are you?” The storm fell like twilight, draining the gray daylight from the sky and deepening the shadows beneath the brim of his hat. She couldn’t