Page 7 of Captured By the Billionaire Cowboy
“Yes sir.” Ciara grasped his hand. It was rough from decades of hard work, with a long, old scar in the middle. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He left, and her smile faded. The uncertainties were daunting, the future uncertain, but she would find a way to make it right. Somehow, she would find a good home for each and every horse.
She wouldn’t rest until she did.
Rowan turned the windshield wipers to maximum, grimacing as they did little more than redirect the rain streaming over his truck. Midnight had come and gone long ago, and the time he’d planned to arrive was a distant memory. After working later than planned, the two-hour drive turned into four due to unrelenting weather and treacherous road conditions.
Finally, the ranch’s lights came into view, like a safe harbor to a waterlogged shipwreck survivor. The vehicle plodded through the muddy dirt road, navigating curves and dips reminiscent of a lifetime ago. Thank goodness he’d chosen to drive the truckinstead of his ’59 Shamrock Car. He’d been tempted to bring the rare antique, one of an estimated ten of the cars built in Ireland decades ago. His father had spent a fortune on the car just to say he could, then promptly forgot about it. When Rowan was a teenager, he spent hours working to get it back into fighting condition.
Not with his dad, of course. With the man he was going to see.
It was strange to be returning to the ranch after all these years, and even stranger now that it was filled with horses. It represented more troubled times than good, a million memories he could never forget. Despite the short distance, he stayed far, leaving the upkeep to the caretaker who had worked for his family for generations. Of course, he could never be mad at Frank, the man who showed him how to ride a horse, the man who cheered when he won third prize at the science fair, the man who promised a young boy his mother was watching down on him. Frank was more of a father than his real one had ever been.
Now the ranch was occupied by horses – andCiara. The details of the current situation were unknown, but based on Frank’s short message, the caretaker did the right thing.
Rowan slowed the car, carefully guiding it between the house and the stables. Although the buildings were separated, a covered walkway shielded him from the worst of the rain. He parked in a semi-dry spot, switched off the ignition and opened the door.
The air was hot and balmy and smelled of horses and moisture. Instead of heading for the large farmhouse, he turned straight to the stables, unwilling to wait until morning to greet his new guests. Since horses only slept three hours a day, mostly in a series of short standing naps, many of them would be awake. Horses only needed to lie down for REM sleep, which they were able to achieve in far fewer hours than humans and otherdomesticated pets. Otherwise, they locked their muscles with theirstay apparatusto enjoy short naps. It was a throwback to the days when they were fiercely hunted and needed to be able to flee immediately if set upon by a mountain lion or other predator.
His eyes adjusted to the darkness as he walked from the bright outside floodlights to the dimmer lights of the stable. The scent of hay and horses was strong, but he welcomed it. It smelled likehome. The ground was soft under his boots, and the thunderous rain became a soft pitter-patter against the structure’s sturdy roof. Gentle neighing provided a soft background melody.
As he walked past a bay mare, it whimpered in alarm, scooting back against the far side of the stall. Rowan frowned, then deeper, as the next horse jumped at his soft footsteps. A third and fourth proved just as fearful, solidifying the obvious. These horses had been mistreated.
Never again.
Even if they were Ciara’s horses, they were in his stables. He shared responsibility for them.
A vision of the girl who was once his only friend flashed, as it had a dozen times today. Even through the haze of long ago memories, the image was as brilliant as the last time they’d met. She’d visited every summer, until his father decided even that small bit of innocence couldn’t intrude on his never-ending work. She was a vibrant girl, a kind child who cared about everyone and everything, even the flies she caught and released.
She didn’t deserve to have her heart broken.
Yet he hadn’t a choice. His world had all but destroyed him – he couldn’t let it destroy her.
Still, he couldn’t stop the memories, no less vibrant for the years that passed since their creation. He’d been shocked – and far more satisfied than expected – to learn she was residing inIreland. The desire to keep her safe and happy tangled with the need to see her. Now he had an excuse. She had brought herself to his world, and he would not stay away.
He returned his attention to the horses, gently greeting those who were awake. A few were sleeping while they stood, and one mare was lying on her side. He entered her stall and crouched down next to her, breathed deeply when it was clearly just REM sleep. He moved on to soothe a finicky tan Quarter Horse next. He travelled from horse to horse, comforting those that were alert, promising he would care for all. Yet at the last, he froze. The stall didn’t hold a horse.
It held a woman.
CHAPTER 2
Ciara.
The world froze, halted on its axis, at the lithe woman curled on her side, nestled in a thick pile of hay. Years had come and gone since he’d last seen her, when they had both been teenagers blossoming with young adulthood, and yet he would recognize her anywhere. As a child, she had been adorable.
As a woman, she was beautiful.
Trim and athletic, slender lines had matured into womanly curves, apparent even under the billowy shirt and blue jeans. Locks of shimmery blond waves caressed her shoulders, over sun-kissed skin that showed her love for the outdoors. The eyes he knew would be cat green were closed, thick lashes fanned against creamy cheeks, and above a soft bow of rosy red lips. She looked utterly in place, amongst her equine friends, relaxed in the innocence of sleep.
Unfamiliar emotion urged him forward. He should leave her alone, talk to her in the morning as planned. Yet she shifted, whimpering against the course hay. He couldn’t leave her in the uncomfortable position, not after all she’d done. She deserved a bed.
He could simply carry her to the guest room.
Would it bother her, to know he moved her? Ciara always cared for others before herself, helping horses, dogs and even insects. If he had been here earlier, he would have insisted she go to a proper bed. Since she was asleep, he would ensure it.
However, first he would ask. He knelt down next to her, into the scent of gardenias and honey, an intoxicating combination of sweetness and supple woman. Before he could say a word, she lifted those long lashes, gazing at him with unfocused eyes. “Hey Cowboy Sexy. I was hoping to see you out of my dreams.”
Um, what?
