Page 38 of The Lass Beguiled the Laird (Explosive Highlanders 3)

Now that it was happening, dread mixed with anxiety and restlessness. The powerful stallion’s response might very well be unpredictable and utterly dangerous. If Fingal got hurt, she did not know what she would do, how she would react. Badly, no doubt.

Catriona remembered how the Arab beauty had become rebellious when they first bridled and then saddled him. The poor darling had suffered too much.

That morning, ready for a ride, they had exercised him for a long hour. There was no delaying it any longer.

“I’ll soothe him, while you mount.” she offered when Fingal approached Fiadhaich.

“You will do no such thing.” Why the blasted laird insisted in ordering her about was a mystery since she almost never heeded him.

“He might react badly otherwise,” she debated.

“Exactly because of that, I want you safely out of the way,” he insisted.

The stable staff wandered about at their tasks but seemed attentive to what took place in the stockyard.

“And precisely because of that, I want to stay here and see if I can avoid it.”

They faced each other stubbornly with a few feet between them while the stallion stood by their sides.

“Damn you, Sassenach!” he said under his breath.

She grinned at that. “Ready?”

“Yes, but promise me to get outside as soon as I’m mounted.” Fists on his hips, he looked directly down at her.

Catriona made a show of sighing with aggravation. “Agreed.”

Despite her bravado, her fear for his safety increased—not a positive thing when animals could sense your mood. With a deep inhale, she tried to calm herself.

As Fingal put his foot in the stirrup, Catriona talked with Fiadhaich in soft tones. When the laird sat on the saddle, she gave him a carrot. The man’s other foot was placed in the other stirrup, as well.

“Leave,” he said curtly.

With no other choice, she did after caressing her equine friend on the nose.

Out of the fence, she held on to it tensely. Surely, the stallion had been mounted before, or he would not have accepted her so promptly. Yet, his past plight might get in the way.

Wide-eyed, she willed the darling beast to take care of Fingal as she would.

Fiadhaich’s front feet dug on the ground as he snorted his impatience, shaking his head. From where she stood, she talked to him as she usually did in calm soft tones.

Cautious, Fingal pulled the reins and kneed the flanks slightly. At first, the horse did not budge. It was the precise point he might follow or rebel. The horseman waited, and she continued her soothing from afar.

What felt like an eternity hung over them. The horse moved a foot. Then another. One pace, a second, and he was trotting around the yard. Catriona exhaled in pure relief at the horse’s yielding but kept her watch.

For half an hour, Fingal rode in varied speeds. Next, he stopped, dismounted, caught a carrot from Catriona, and offer

ed it to the purebred.

And went on to try again. By then, the surrounding fence had filled with people as the stallion and rider made progress.

Naturally, it was merely the first time Fingal rode him. The training would finish when Fiadhaich showed to be amenable to riding around the estate.

Fingal dismounted, gave the horse to one of the lads and exited the yard. “Well, Sassenach, you seem to have made it,” he praised as he neared her.

Their eyes clasped with much more meaning than that platitude. “It was not me,” she emphasised. “He did it because he received love and care.”

“Yes, but your soft guidance and understanding were essential,” he insisted.

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