Page 27 of The Past

I exhaled sharply, forcing myself back into the present as I watched Rory check Brannagh’s tack while Tommy held the reins.My chest ached with frustration.

My father wanted to use me to further his wealth.

Brian wanted to trap me, mold me into a quiet, well-behaved wife.

My eyes focused on Tommy.One thing was clear last night—incredible kiss not withstanding—Tommy wanted me to fly.

I swallowed, my face heating at the memory of his lips on mine, the warmth of his breath spiced with whiskey, the steady grip of his hands.I’d shocked myself—not just with the kiss, but with the feeling behind it.I’d been so sure that if I ever rebelled, it would be in defiance, in anger.But what scared me the most wasn’t that I kissed Tommy—it was that I wanted more.

More than just a fleeting moment.More than just a kiss stolen in a dark barn.

If I was going to take my first true step away from my father’s rule, I realized now that it wouldn’t be through words.

It would be through Tommy.

Brannagh snorted, shifting under Tommy’s hold, and I pulled myself together.

“Ye ready, Fi?”Rory asked, assessing me as he adjusted my stirrups.

I nodded, shaking off the nerves as I approached.Even though this wasn’t a formal race, I’d worn the silks and jods Kathleen had lovingly made for me.They made me feel strong and capable.“Aye.”

Tommy turned to me and bent slightly to offer me a leg up.His hands were warm, strong, and after I lifted myself into the saddle, his fingers briefly tightened around my calf.

“Be bold,” he murmured so only I could hear.“But careful at the same time.”A slow smile tugged at his lips.“You’re going to do great.”

I stared at him for a moment, feeling the weight of his words settle into my chest.Rory caught the exchange, and when I glanced his way, I saw a contemplative look pass over his face.It made me wonder if he already knew—if he saw what was happening between Tommy and me before I fully realized it myself.

And what exactly was happening between us?

I looked down at Tommy, at the way he was still holding my calf, as if reluctant to let go, and knew the answer.

Yes.

And if I let it, this thing between us would change everything.

Rory cleared his throat, breaking the moment.“All right then, let’s get ye warmed up.”

I rode Brannagh toward the start of the course, my pulse skittering as I sized up the other riders.Five of them, all men, their expressions ranging from indifference to mild amusement.I knew what they were thinking.I could practically hear their thoughts.

She’s a girl.She won’t last.

I adjusted my grip on the reins and set my jaw.

They were about to be very surprised.

♦

The flag dropped,and Brannagh shot forward, his hooves hammering the turf.The wind ripped past my face as we surged ahead, the pounding of hooves and the heavy breath of the horses filling my ears.

The first few jumps came fast, but Brannagh cleared them with ease, his muscles coiling and stretching beneath me like a tightly wound spring.

I was in fourth place, but I wasn’t worried.Steeplechase wasn’t about being reckless—it was about strategy.

The rider ahead of me was pushing too hard, forcing his horse into jumps without giving him a chance to adjust.I bide my time, letting them burn out.

One by one, I gained ground.

The final stretch loomed ahead, the last jump taller than the rest.My legs tightened, my hands steady on the reins.Just as I pushed Brannagh forward, a sharp cry split the air.

---