Page 44 of The Past

I bristled at that.“Ye think I don’t know horses?”

He lifted a hand, placating.“Now don’t get cross.I just mean ye’ve never had to think about the bigger picture.The money.The deals.The legacy.Ye ride them, sure, but ye don’t have to make the hard choices.Yer father does all that for ye.”

I stiffened, his words hitting deeper than he probably intended.I wanted to make those choices.I wanted to prove that I was more than just a girl waiting to be married off, more than someone expected to smile and nod while men like Brian handled the business.

But before I could respond, Brian stopped at a small stall selling leather gloves and wool scarves.He picked up a mint green scarf, the color close to my eyes, and turned to me with a grin.

“This would suit ye.”

I frowned.“I don’t need it.”

“I insist.”Before I could protest further, he handed a few notes to the vendor and draped the scarf around my neck himself.

I forced a tight smile, my stomach twisting.He wasn’t cruel, not really.He was trying.He thought this was what I wanted—what any girl would want.A man to fawn over her, to buy her things, to secure her future.

But all I could think of was Tommy, of his rough hands, his teasing grin, of how he would never try to claim me with a scarf or a brooch or a well-bred horse.

“Thank ye,” I said quietly, adjusting the scarf because it felt like it weighed too much around my neck.

“See, I know what suits ye,” he said, satisfied.“And I’ll always take care of ye, Fi.”

That was supposed to be a comfort, I think.

Instead, it made my skin prickle, but I managed a polite smile.

He grinned back at me, satisfied with himself.“Now, come on.Let’s find a real test of skill.”

We moved through the crowd toward town center where games were set up.Brian headed toward the rings stall, which consisted of a wooden board mounted with hooks at different distances and angles.The goal was simple—toss the ring and land it cleanly onto one of the pegs.The closer the peg, the lower the points.The harder the target, the greater the prize.It was a classic Irish festival game, one I’d seen at countless fairs over the years.

Brian pointed up to a stuffed horse and proclaimed, “Going to win that just for ye.”

“Ye don’t—”

“How much to play?”Brian asked the vendor, an older man with a ruddy face and a distinct lack of teeth.

“Ten pence a ring,” the man said, “or three for twenty-five.Land one on that top ring and the stuffed horse is yers.”

Brian scoffed and handed over two ten-pence coins to the vendor.He attempted to sound humble.“I’ll only need one, but let’s get two just in case.”

He took his stance, shot me a beaming smile and tossed his first ring.It hit one of the pegs but bounced off.He chuckled with good nature, adjusting his grip, and tried again.Another miss and he didn’t look so amused anymore.

I watched as his jaw tightened, face flushing red.

“Bloody thing,” he muttered, digging out more coins and trading them for rings.

“Brian, ye don’t have to—”

“Nonsense.”He threw another.Missed.Cursed under his breath.“It’s a stupid trick of the angle.”

I sighed, knowing he wouldn’t give up until he won something.I was learning something about this man my father wanted to have me and I could tell he was the type who was determined to prove himself, but never quite succeeded in the way he wanted.

It didn’t take long for me to get bored and as I glanced around, that’s when I saw him.

Tommy.

Walking through the festival with a few of the other stable workers, his hands in his pockets.He moved with a confident gait, taking in all the sights.

I felt the punch of it the second he caught sight of me.First surprise, then a lick of flame in his eyes as he stared.

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