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Watching the moonrise over Sovereign Mountain.
CHAPTER EIGHT
KEIRA
It’s early when I wake. I’m still in his bed and I can smell him on the sheets. It’s a masculine scent mixed with something more natural. I bury my face in the pillow and breathe it in. My head spins and I sit up sharply.
What am I doing?
I’m still in my thin sundress, but the room is warm and the gas fireplace is still crackling. I shudder as my eyes shift up to the bull skull staring down at me. It reminds me of him. Big, rough around the edges, and intimidating.
I get up and pad silently over the cool hardwood floors to the huge window. Outside, everything is covered in a light layer of frost. The lake steams and a group of ducks float in tranquil silence by the dock. I can see the corner of the barn and the paddock to my left. There’s a handful of horses out, one of them a brown and white paint mare.
A shock goes through me.
She looks just like my painted wooden mare. Down to one white sock, a spot over her back and halfway down her face. The only difference is her mane is white instead of auburn.
Is this a sign?
Heart pattering, I turn and duck out of the bedroom and creep silently through the huge house. From somewhere downstairs, I can smell someone cooking in the kitchens. Everyone else, I’m sure, is out in the barn or the fields already.
I slip on my boots in the hallway. Gerard must have brought them downstairs after I fell asleep. I can’t remember much after I had my tea and I wonder if he drugged it. I slept better than I have in years.
Probably since before my father’s death.
The cool air bites my bare legs and arms. The yard is empty and my shoes crunch over icy grass and mud. I pick my way to the paddock and the horses ignore me, all except for the paint mare. She lifts her head and stares at me from below her forelock.
As I draw up to the fence, she lets out a heavy breath that clouds the air.
We stare at one another and I think I’m in love.
Gravel crunches behind me. I know who it is without turning around. Warmth like a blast of heat covers my shoulders and back, and a heavy weight settles over me. He puts his jacket on me and it smells like him.
I pull his coat closer, feeling shy as I turn to face him. He leans on the fence, the muscles in his arms apparent beneath his shirt, and narrows his eyes at the paint mare.
“She’s not fully broken,” he says.
I clear my throat. “Where did you get her?”
“Won her at a game of poker,” he says. “Some addict gambled away everything he had, plus his horse. I wasn’t going to take her, but I saw the way she shied from him. There’s no need for an animal to shy from your hand unless it's not been treated right.”
“She was abused?” I whispered.
He nods once. “I work with her a few times a week. Progress is slow.”
I stare into the mare’s eyes, my stomach turning. How could anyone look at such a beautiful animal and want to hurt it? I sniffle and run my hand over my nose and he glances down at me.
“She’s alright now,” he says.
“What’s her name?”
“She doesn’t have one.”
Why am I not surprised? This is the man who came up with Big Dog and Small Dog. He’d probably call himself Tall Man With Hat if he could.
I feel the corners of my lips tug back in a smile and he looks over and notices. His mouth thins and he turns, but not before I see a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
“What would you call her?” he asks.
