Page 24 of Irish Rebel
With someone else, of course. When she decided it was time.
She set the tea aside to steep, then opening a cupboard stretched high for a cup.
“I’ll get that.” He moved in behind her, handily trapping her between his body and the counter. Closed his hand over hers on the cup.
She could smell the shower on him, feel the heat of it. And her mouth went dry.
“I decided I don’t care to forget it.”
She had to concentrate on regulating her breathing. “I beg your pardon?”
“And that I’m not going to let you forget it, either.”
She needed to swallow, but her throat wouldn’t cooperate. “We agreed—”
“No, we didn’t.” He brought the cup down, set it aside. “We agreed we didn’t want this.” The ponytail she wore left a lovely curve of her neck bare. He nuzzled there. “And I’d say there’s been an unspoken agreement that despite that, we want each other.”
The firestorm was back, a burst at the base of her neck that showered heat down her spine. “We don’t know each other.”
“I know how you taste.” He nipped lightly at flesh. “And feel, and smell. I see your face in my mind whether I want to or not.” He spun her around, and his eyes were dark and restless. “Why should you have a choice when I don’t?”
His mouth crushed down on hers, a hot and dangerous thrill. With his hands gripped in her hair, he pressed his body to hers.
And this time she felt as much anger as passion in the embrace. Now, wrapped around the thrill, was a thin snake of fear. The combination was unbearably exciting.
“I’m not ready for this.” She struggled back. “I’m not ready for this. Can you understand?”
“No.” But he understood what he saw in her eyes. He’d frightened her, and he’d no right to do so. “But then again, I don’t want to.” So he backed away. “Your mother said I was a patient man. I can be, under some circumstances. I’ll wait, because you’ll come to me. There’s something alive between us, so when you’re ready, you’ll come to me.”
“There’s a thin line between confidence and arrogance, Brian. Watch your step,” she suggested as she started for the door.
“I missed you.”
Her hand closed over the knob, but she couldn’t turn it. “You know all the angles,” she murmured.
“That may be true. But still I missed you. Thanks for the tea.”
She sighed. “You’re welcome,” she said, and left him.
Chapter Five
Bad Betty had more than earned her name. She didn’t just make trouble, she looked for it. Nothing seemed to please her more than nipping at grooms. Unless it was kicking exercise boys. She chased other yearlings when out in pasture, then reared and kicked and snorted bad-temperedly when it was time to be stabled for the night.
For all those reasons, and more, Brian adored her.
There was a communal sigh of relief in the shedrow when he opted to deal with her personally. She tested him, and though she rarely got by Brian’s guard he had an impressive rainbow of bruises with her name on them.
There were mutters that she was a man-eater, but Brian knew better. She was a rebel. And she was a winner. It was only a matter of teaching her how to start winning without damaging that wild spirit.
On the longe line he circled her into a walk while she pretended to ignore him. Still, when he spoke to her, her ears twitched, and now and then she sent him a sidelong glance. And days of hard work were rewarded when he lengthened the line and she broke into a canter.
“Ah, that’s the way. What a beauty you are.” He’d liked to have captured that moment—the gorgeous filly cantering gracefully in a circle, while green hills rolled up to a blue sky.
It would make a picture, and look to some like a frolic. But those who knew would see this moment—a racehorse learning to take commands from signals transmitted through her mouth—was another step toward the finish line.
He saw one more thing as he looked at her, as he studied lines and form and that unmistakable gleam in her eyes.
He saw his destiny.
