Page 23 of Declan
Inside, shafts of sunlight pierced the air, illuminating six stalls on each side of the wide aisle. Each horse poked its head over the gates, noses twitching, ears pricked, ready for the day’s adventure.
****
Elise halted before a gate to see it secured by a padlock that gleamed dully in the afternoon light. She turned to Declan, curiosity lifting her brow.
“Why does this gate have a padlock on it?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Because Phoenix is an escape artist. Every time I’d put him in his stall, he’d slip out before I even reached the barn door. Didn’t want him wandering the paddocks alone. I’ve got four men on the payroll, but they’re busy with feed buckets, mucking stalls, and ranch maintenance. They can’t babysit a determined horse all day.”
Elise laughed, against the low murmur of stomping hooves and the gentle rustle of straw. “How would he manage it?” she asked.
“First he mastered lifting the latch with his teeth,” Declan explained, leaning casually against the gate. “Then we tried looping a rope around it, but he’d just pull at it to get it off and flick the latch open. I swear his name should be Houdini.”
“That would fit him perfectly,” she agreed.
“I’ve considered putting bars on the doors, but they like sticking their heads out.” He reached over and brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek. “Come on. Let me show you your horse.”
He led her along a row of sturdy wooden stalls. At one gate a soft whinny rose and through the bars she spotted a black Morgan mare, her coat shining midnight-silk smooth and a crisp white blaze slicing down her face. She held out a tentative hand; the horse leaned in, velvet muzzle grazing Elise’s palm.
“You are just gorgeous,” Elise murmured. “What’s this beauty’s name?”
Declan cleared his throat, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “Marigold. Frankie named her.”
Elise chuckled. “I take it you wouldn’t have chosen Marigold.”
“Nope. But I couldn’t say no to Frankie. I spoil her rotten.”
“I bet you do,” she teased. “So, I’ll ride Marigold?”
“Yes, she’s a Morgan, very gentle. If you’re ready, I’ll saddle her for you.”
She nodded, then he sauntered down the aisle, and she couldn’t stop herself from staring at his ass filling out those snug Wranglers, jeans sculpted to his curves and powerful thighs. He vanished into the tack room, boots thudding on the cement floor. Moments later he reemerged, cradling a dark-leather saddle and a navy-blue blanket. He draped them over a nearby rail and slipped back inside.
Marigold, chewing on her bit, reached out and nibbled at Elise’s blouse. When the mare curled her lips in a comical horsey grin, Elise burst out laughing.
Declan returned, hooked a lead rope to the mare’s halter, and guided her out into the sunlit corral. “Can I help with the saddle?” Elise asked.
He shook his head, gray eyes amused. “Appreciate it, but I’ve got this. Give me a few minutes.”
While he worked, Elise’s gaze drifted to the stall across the aisle. Inside, a tall Appaloosa stallion with a flowing mane stomped and watched them. When Declan slid open the stall door and led the animal out, she caught her breath.
“He is just gorgeous,” she whispered.
Declan chuckled, adjusting the cinch under the stallion. “Don’t gush too loud. He already has a big head.”
Moments later both horses stood saddled and patient. Declan offered her a hand as she mounted Marigold; the stirrups clinked softly. He adjusted the stirrup length, then vaulted into his own saddle with effortless grace. No stirrups, no run-up, just a powerful swing and he was seated. Elise’s pulse quickened. It was the hottest thing she’d ever seen.
“She responds to your knees,” he instructed, voice low. “Light pressure on one side, along with the reins pulled that way, nudges her that way. Make sense?”
She shifted, settling her weight. “Yes, but how do I make her go straight?”
“A gentle squeeze with both knees. She’ll follow Scout,” he said. “Relax in the saddle to keep you from getting sore. I’ve got salve you can take home. We won’t be out more than an hour.”
Elise glanced around. “Where’s your dog?”
“Inside, or out in the fenced yard. He’s more of a fishing buddy, and comes along on the ATV rides, but not the horses. I’m afraid he’d get hurt running with them.” He smiled at her. “You can meet him when we get back.”
She returned his grin and gave Marigold’s mane a light stroke. As birds tweeted overhead and a breeze ruffled her ponytail, she followed Declan out through the barn. Her gaze kept drifting to the strong line of his back, the way his shoulders rolled as he guided his mount. He looked born in the saddle.
