Page 35 of Christmas Secrets

She took off her coat and cap, hung them over the side of the stall, and put her arms around her horse’s neck. Leaning into his big body provided plenty of warmth and shelter. She’d been here when he was born and they had a strong bond.

“What do ye think, boy? Do ye think Dal is being an arse?” she muttered into the ear where his muzzle hung over her shoulder. His reply was to nuzzle her neck and shoulder and make the appropriate sounds to indicate he agreed with whatever she had to say.

She grabbed the curry brush from the hook on the side of the stall and began brushing his shining coat. His gold and white coloring was beautiful with his dark brown eyes. But the highlight was the golden star-shaped patch of hair on his forehead. Sprinkles of the same coloring, like freckles, danced about beneath the star, hence the name Stardust.

“I tried to apologize and he wouldn’t forgive me,” she complained, brushing the silky neck mane. “So that makes him an arse, right? I mean, we could at least be friends.”

“Ye made it plain ye never wanted to be my friend, brat.”

Ainsley stiffened at the husky voice that sent a sudden vibration through her nerves. Dal must have followed her, but she’d never even heard the barn door open. Whirling around, she glared at him. “That’s because ye were being an arse.”

He folded his arms in the burgundy ski jacket into that superior position men always used to try and intimidate the smaller sex. Admittedly, it looked good on him, the alpha male so naturally displayed making her pulse race. It wasn’t something he was putting on, it was who he was, blast him. She climbed up on the lower railing of Stardust’s gate so she could at least look him in the eye. It seemed to amuse him; she could see it in the smirk that turned up the corners of his lips.

“Being taller doesn’t make ye any righter, ye know.”

“Doesn’t make ye superior either,” she taunted back.

“I never said it did.”

“Well...this is all yer fault anyway,” she finally shot at him. “Ye and that stupid betting pool Angus had going. What was I supposed to do?” The bar was beginning to hurt through the soles of her boots so she hopped down off the rail and put the curry comb away.

Dal took off his white stocking cap and stuffed it in his pocket, then ran his long fingers through his messy blondish hair. “About that, I apologize, but I’m as much a victim as ye are when it comes to Angus. I didn’t even know about the pool until Ben told me a few days ago.”

Ainsley folded her arms around her waist in a protective gesture. “Right, and I’m supposed to believe that?” she scoffed.

“Is that why ye tried to run me over with the snowmobile?”

His shrewd gaze brought a flush to her face. “Ye were watching me and I didn’t like it,” she snapped. “I felt like I was being stalked. Why were ye doing it anyway?”

His hands flew to his hips. “I was thinking ye looked like ye were having fun and mayhap I could grab a snowmobile and we could all have some fun,” he growled.

“Ha! And win the betting pool fer yer friends I’m guessing.” Her toe started tapping all on its own. Did he really expect her to believe he wasn’t vested in the betting pool?

“Cripes! Why are ye so obsessed with that blasted pool? I could care less about it, I just wanted to get to know ye. I work fer Neamh and ye are the boss’s sister, a member of the family. I thought we should at least be on friendly terms.”

She could tell he was frustrated, but so was she. “I don’t believe ye.”

“I don’t care if ye don’t believe me,” he snarled at her. Then he turned around and started walking away. The view from the back was as droolworthy as the view from the front. Much to her dismay, she couldn’t drag her gaze away from those taut buttocks and long legs.

“Running off like a sore loser, are ye?” she taunted. “Now I know I’m right.”

He stopped suddenly and turned around to stalk back towards her. “I was leaving before I threw caution to the winds and just hauled ye over my lap to spank the living daylights out of ye. Ye are a brat, Ainsley MacCandish, and someone needs to take ye down a peg or two.”

“It won’t be by the likes of ye, Dallas MacIntosh,” she threw back furiously.

“I think it will,” he snapped. Two long strides later he was taking her by the arm when her self-preservation kicked in and she started to back away.

“Let go of me, Dal, I’m warning ye...”

“Too late fer that, brat.” He propped his booted foot up on the bottom rail of Stardust’s gate and hauled her over his strong thigh.

Ainsley tried to kick him or stamp on his booted toes but she couldn’t quite get there. Being held on her tiptoes made it hard to maneuver and her view was the stable floor. “Ye better not touch me,” she warned. “I’ll tell my brother and he will fire ye.”

Apparently, he wasn’t listening because no matter how much she struggled and threatened, his left arm had an iron grip around her waist.

“I’ll give ye one chance to apologize and mean it, Miss MacCandish,” Dal offered in a firm tone. “The next words out of yer mouth better be I’m sorry I misjudged ye, or ye are going to be sleeping on yer stomach tonight.”

Ainsley tried to bite his thigh, but the jean material was too thick and so was his muscle. It didn’t stop her from finally getting a nip in.

---