said that. But marriage between us always has and always will be your choice, pretty girl.” He cupped her face with the curve of his hand, tenderness real and tangible, not imagined. The sweetest longing spilled up from her soul. Everything within her wanted to believe him. She squeezed her eyes shut, and the image of the man remained etched in her mind. As did the caring chiseled into his stony features, and his concern reaching out as if to rope her in.
When she opened her eyes, he hadn’t moved. In his secondhand coat, rumpled shirt and trousers he did not at all look the horrible man he that she wanted him to be.
A friendly meow filled the silence between them. A furry paw reached down from the rafter above and batted at Ian’s hat. His buttery chuckle warmed the cold air, and his amusement beat at her falling defenses.
“Hello to you, too,” he crooned to the cat. “Come to see if there’s any milk, have you?”
Mally’s answering meow left no doubt, and while the feline tossed a glance Fiona’s way, it was a mere glance, nothing more.
“You have gone and stolen my cat,” she accused. “I don’t think I shall ever forgive you, Ian.”
“At least you are using my first name, lass. It is an improvement.” He batted playfully at Mally’s paw. The cat, apparently thrilled, grabbed hold of his rafter and reached down to wrestle with Ian properly.
“It’s not an improvement. Simply resignation.” It was easier to let him think she still loathed him than admit the truth. She grabbed a small pail from the nearby shelf. “As you insist on playing, I’ll get started on your work.”
“I left Duchess standing in the doorway.” He chuckled again, dodging the cat’s attempts to knock his hat off. “I’ll take care of her, don’t you worry.”
“You are hardly trustworthy.” She let the mare scent her hand. Once the beautiful mare nodded in greeting, she dared to run her fingers over the rich velvety nose. Softer than it looked, she marveled. “You are like the finest satin.”
Duchess nickered low in her throat with great dignity and dipped her nose in the bucket. Her lustrous red coat seemed to gleam, as if holding light of its own. Breathtaking to be so close to her. She was perfection. Not the kind of horse you leave standing. No, judging by the perturbed look, Duchess was used to immediate attention. She stomped her foot, not at all pleased to find the bucket empty.
“It’s hot water I’ll be fetching for you. I suppose you are used to your oats warm,” she told the mare, fully aware of Ian coming closer. The nerves on her nape tingled in warning at his approach.
“That would be kind of you, lass.” His warm breath fanned across the back of her neck. His hand landed next to hers on Duchess’s silken nose. “I have left her too long already. She’s used to receiving all of my regard.”
“Poor Duchess.” Fiona sympathized. “It must be hard to endure so much of Ian.”
The mare tossed her head up and down as if in perfect agreement.
“I guess that puts me in my place.”
His chuckle followed her out into the bitter cold; she couldn’t rightly say she was running from it. Just as it was not his warm, cozy company she would be missing. It was not the promise of hearing his laughter again that had her hurrying down the path toward the shanty’s glowing window.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
A strange power had overtaken him, there was no denying it. Ian ran his hands down Duchess’s legs, checking knee and fetlock and hoof. No warm spots, no swelling, nothing out of the ordinary. Everything his grandfather had taught him about horse care was ingrained, and as he lowered the mare’s hoof onto his knee to check her shoe, the old man could have been with him, standing as he always did with a bit of advice to offer. Fine when Ian was a six-year-old, but how it had annoyed him as a teenage boy.
Warm memories curled around him like his grandfather’s loving presence used to. He almost glanced over his shoulder to see if the older gentleman stood there. Impossible, of course, his grandfather had been gone a full year, but perhaps he was looking down from heaven. And if he was, would he be glad of what he saw? Relieved he was falling for the granddaughter of his best childhood friend? Or would