Jealous animal.
He checked each of the buckles with calculating efficiency. Then, smoothing the horse’s hair, he stepped away. Amelia tilted her head slightly, the blush slowly fading from her cheeks.
“Test the saddle, Amelia,” he instructed her, his voice low but not demanding, as inviting as he could muster.
She did as he said, moving without complaint. She looked down at her mare as she shifted her hips in the saddle. Her foot sat more comfortably in the stirrup, and the pressure on her body redirected fully away from her injuries. Finally, he took a step back.
“Well?” he asked when she stayed quiet.
She lifted a brow, her mouth quirking upward as she said, “Adequate.”
“That’s high praise from ye,” he rumbled, the warmth he felt for her leaking through.
“I suppose it is.”
He held her eyes for another beat. All of the hitched breaths and subtle tension settled in the space between them. Then, he forced himself to look away, mounting his horse once more.
She waited until he was seated to nudge her filly forward. Her pace was slower this time, not pulling too far away. Darragh followed her, urging his own mare to close the gap.
When he fell in behind her, she looked over her shoulder. There was a question in her gaze, and she looked pointedly at the place beside her before returning her attention to the trail. He took it as the invitation that it was.
Taking his place at her side, he gave her one last lingering look. He didn’t know what had changed, but he no longer felt as if he needed to defend his presence. And considering the way that the ghost of a smile lingered on her lips, he was certain she felt the same way.
Chapter Eighteen
“Ithought ye were goin’ to miss introductions,” Darragh said, leaning into Amelia’s space.
She stood her ground, glancing up at him with poorly concealed annoyance. Despite the ride they’d shared yesterday, she was still upset about the guests. He respected that emotion, but he wouldn’t be turning the McGowans away.
Especially nae when I believe that meetin’ with Flora will be good for her.
“I dinnae believe I had a choice,” Amelia grumbled, watching as the gates opened slowly and the guards took their places. “Ye’ve made it quite clear that I’m to meet with this Lady McGowan.”
“Aye, ye are,” he confirmed. “But I’ve never kent ye to do what I ask of ye. I wouldnae have been surprised if ye decided to lock yerself in yer room.”
Their exchange was cut short by the sound of carriage wheels on cobblestone. It came to a stop in front of the steps, and two footmen moved forward. The rest of the staff stood at the ready, but before the footman could open the door, Laird McGowan dismounted and cut him off.
“Allow me to retrieve me wife,” he declared, his shoulders back.
As soon as they stepped away, Lucas opened the door. A small hand reached forward, thin fingers wrapping around his forearm. Then, gracefully, Flora climbed down, her feet light on the ground.
Her gaze swept across the welcome party, her expression betraying none of her emotions. This was a woman who’d survived fire and no longer flinched at smoke. Yet, she still had a gentle quality to her aura.
For a moment, her eyes lingered on Darragh. She gave him a grateful nod, acknowledgment for the role he’d played in saving both her and Amelia. Then, she turned her attention to Amelia.
“Amelia,” Flora said, giving her a nod from where she was still standing. “I’m lookin’ forward to makin’ yer acquaintance.”
She turned back toward Lucas as soon as she finished speaking. Beside Darragh, Amelia shifted, an almost incredulous breath coming through her nose. Out of the corner of his vision, Darragh saw her shaking her head.
“She’s nae what ye expected, aye?” he asked, keeping his voice low enough that it wouldn’t carry to the McGowan’s.
Amelia inclined her head toward him, her focus never straying from Flora and Lucas. “Nay, I suppose she’s nae, but I dinnae have high expectations to begin with.”
“Aye, I suppose ye wouldnae,” he conceded. “Once the servants lead them inside, ye are free to go about yer business. I expect ye to attend their welcome dinner.”
“And I’m sure I’ll be expected to participate in polite conversation,” she said, her voice a challenging mix of sarcasm and complete sincerity. He was beginning to expect it from her.
“Ye will be expected to behave as a member of polite society, aye,” he quipped, guiding her off the path Laird and Lady McGowan would take inside. “It’s important that we make them feel welcomed durin’ their stay, even if ye arenae pleased with havin’ to play host.”
