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He shrugged and glanced at her father. “I’ve brought my men to help your father with the horses until he’s settled again.”
“Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”
She stared him in the eyes, and that was all it took to suck the breath from her lungs and every atom of sensible thought from her brain. Turning away to pour the mugs of tea, she noticed her hand was trembling. Her pa was chatting about feeds and fields and various training methods for young horses, while all she could think about was sex.
Shame on you, Rose Delaney!
She wondered how much the men understood about her father’s horse chat. They weren’t gauchos. She guessed they were soldiers in the Blood and Thunder army, come to do one final sweep of the farm to make sure that no one from the gang was hiding out.
“Just three mugs,” Dante instructed. “My men won’t be staying inside. They need to get the lay of the land,” he added with a meaningful glance at her father.
“I understand.” She did. This wasn’t a social call, and though the Garda had declared the farm safe last night and had left a couple of men on guard just to be sure, she imagined Dante trusted no one but his own men to do one final check.
“I’ll go with them,” her father offered.
“If you could just show them the outbuildings and then come back and join us?” Dante smiled encouragingly.
Rose guessed Dante wanted her father back under his watchful eye until he got the all clear from his men. As the door closed behind her father and the men, she asked herself what was different about Dante today. Triumph. That was it, Rose thought as she turned around to face him. There was an aura of triumph surrounding him. Danger gave added impetus to sexual desire. She’d read this somewhere but had never experienced it first-hand. The natural human reaction on escaping death was to celebrate life, she remembered. The urge to do so must be catching. And must be controlled, she told herself sternly.
“I can’t thank you enough for helping us.”
Dante tipped his chin, and continued to study her in silence.
“If I’d known you were going to visit this morning, I would have dressed for the occasion,” she joked tensely.
Dante was used to seeing her in working breeches, but these were her oldest, most disreputable, worn and grubby from the stables, while the uniform she wore on Isla Celeste had to be carefully laundered and kept pristine. Her hair was scraped back for practicality, and horses didn’t care if she wore makeup. What you saw was what you got, Rose concluded with a rueful shrug. “Will you trial Stargazer today?” she asked, glancing at the door.
“Always business,” Dante commented.
“Always horses,” she agreed, wishing her heart would slow down long enough for her to take a proper breath.
“Tack him up.”
“I will.”
She brushed past Dante at the door on her way out, and glanced up—wished she hadn’t, and had to make a lunge for the coat she’d forgotten to put on, nearly cannoning into him in the process. Act normally, Rose. Dante was a valuable contact for her father, and Stargazer was a high-value horse. A sale would restore her father’s pride and would mean he could return full-time to the work he loved.
As they crossed the yard, Dante’s black stare missed nothing. He could accuse her of being
all business, but he was always on duty. What had made him like this? She thought back to the rumors she’d heard about him on Isla Celeste. Would she ever know the truth about Dante? He was one of the few people she couldn’t read. Because they shared the same sixth sense, she reasoned as he glanced at her, as if sensing the path her thoughts were taking.
Better to concentrate on the yearlings she had to sell, Rose concluded, though even that was hard when Dante looked so hot. She’d have to be wood from the neck up not to notice that a sleepless night had left no blemish on him, or that his snug-fitting jeans molded his iron butt to perfection, and his soft cashmere sweater in deepest blue showing beneath his short, warm jacket, just begged to be stroked—
“Rose?”
Having almost crashed into the barn door, she pulled herself around quickly. Pathetic. She was a professional woman, and this was business between Dante and her father. No glances, no flirting, no sex. Suck it up. It was safer that way.
The devil’s pact between them was done and dusted, Rose told herself firmly as she allowed the routine of tacking up to soothe her rattled senses. Dante had fulfilled his part of the bargain by getting her to Ireland and then playing a major role in sorting out her father’s problems, while she had fulfilled hers by…by having the most amazing sex? Well, Dante had seemed to enjoy it, Rose concluded as she hefted Stargazer’s saddle onto the horse’s back, so perhaps she’d done enough. Maybe there’d be no more now. She was just pulling a rueful expression when Dante came up alongside. “What’s that face for?” he demanded softly.
Regret. Disappointment. Uncertainty about the future. “I’ll miss Stargazer if he leaves the farm.”
Angling his swarthy face, Dante stared into her eyes. “But you’ll be coming with him.”
“You’re the boss.”
Dante left her guessing as she led Stargazer out into the yard. She was in time to see her father and Dante’s men exchanging firm handshakes. She was thrilled at the way things had turned out for her father. She noticed the leader of the men glance at Dante and give him an almost imperceptible nod, as if to say all clear.
Her father turned around with his face wreathed in smiles. “I was just mentioning the Ceilidh we’re planning. I hope you’ll come?” he said to Dante.
