Page 26 of The Past

She made a small noise and I recognized it as indecision and perhaps a bit of anxiety.Suddenly, she pulled back, green eyes wide and her chest slightly heaving.

“I have to go home,” she exclaimed breathlessly, shrugging out of my jacket and tossing it in my lap.I watched as she moved to scramble off the hay bale, her dress rising slightly up the side of her thigh and yeah… I looked.

I also reacted quickly and before she could get too far away, I caught her wrist.She went still, staring at me like a doe in headlights.Slowly, I lifted her hand upward and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it.

Her lips parted, her expression softening in the ambient light.A tiny sigh slipped through her parted lips that I really wanted on mine again.

I smiled, slow and lazy.“See you tomorrow, darlin’.I’ll be dreaming of that kiss tonight.”

Fiona yanked her hand back, cheeks blazing, then turned and jumped off the bale, bolting into the night.

I took another swig of whiskey, watching the parted barn doors through which she had disappeared, long after she was gone.

Yeah.

I was in trouble.

CHAPTER 9

Fiona

Overhead, the skywas a pale gray, stretched thin like gossamer with the occasional sliver of blue trying to break through.Somewhere in the distance, the faint clang of metal on metal echoed as stable hands worked around the facility.

Uncle Rory and Tommy were unloading Brannagh from the travel trailer, both men working in easy tandem.My gelding was eager, his muscles taut with anticipation as he pawed at the ground, ears pricked forward.I recognized the feeling.The sheer exhilaration of knowing what was coming—the speed, the jumps, the rush of wind against my face.

If Brannagh was brimming with excited energy, I was on the opposite end of the spectrum right now.This was the day I’d race against other riders—those who had far more experience than I—and I was suffering from low-level nausea.I was hoping it would go away when I got in the saddle and my training and natural instincts would kick in.

I wrapped my arms around myself, not just for warmth, but because my mind kept drifting back to this morning’s breakfast, to my father’s clipped tone as I tried to sidestep his questions.

“Tell me more about your date with Brian,” he had commanded, barely looking up from his tea.

The chatter around the table silenced and everyone else looked to me.

I’d played with my spoon, tracing the edge of my saucer as I searched for a vague but potentially acceptable answer.“It was fine.”

That wasn’t enough for my father.He set his cup down with a soft clink, his gaze heavy and expectant.“Did he treat ye well?”

“Aye,” I admitted, if the standard was not beating me and paying for my meal.

“Excellent,” he said, staring at me in triumph.“What did ye talk about?”

And I knew in that minute, my dad was already well aware of what the conversation would’ve centered around.

My jaw was tight.“He talked about marriage.”

His mouth curved into a satisfied smile that twisted my stomach.“Did he now?”

The approval in his voice lit a fire in me.“Da, I don’t want to marry Brian,” I said, my hands tightening around my napkin.“I don’t even want to date him.”

I want to follow my heart.

He scoffed, pushing his chair back as he stood.“Nonsense.He’s a perfect match and ye should be grateful he has an interest in ye.”

I glanced at Siobhan across the table, and her expression was so very sad for me.

“Ye’ll do what ye’re told,” my father added, causing my attention to slam back into him.He didn’t look at me though and instead walked out of the dining room.

And that was the end of the conversation.

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