Page 18 of Highland Renegade
Ian turned his attention back to her. “Yeinsisted? And what do ye ken about horses?”
She fixed a cool look on him. “I would say the animal is of Friesian blood, which stud line was ancestor to both the British shire and the Fell pony. In medieval times, they carried knights into battle, which makes her both surefooted and sturdy for the hills of Scotland.” She smiled at Ian. “A wise choice on your part to purchase her. I assume she will be bred to that bay stallion of yours?”
Jamie gaped at her.
Ian blinked, opened his mouth, closed it, then grudgingly nodded. “In a year or two when she is ready.”
“Yes, breeding a young mare risks the chance of a weak foal.”
Jamie began to grin, something he quickly hid behind his hand and a cough.
Ian stared at her. “Is husbandry a topic of discussion in London parlors these days?”
“Husbandryis often and widely discussed in social circles, since it is the objective of nearly every young woman to catch one, preferably with a title and wealth to accompany it.” Her smile widened. She couldn’t help it. “But that may not be the kind you mean?”
His ears turned slightly pink, a rather endearing quality.
“Ye ken ’tis nae what I meant.” He looked around the stable to where the men were industrially applying themselves to various tasks and appearing to pay no heed to the conversation. “I thought ladies dinna discussbreedingof any kind.”
It was her turn to blush as she caught the innuendo. She had never been able to conceive a child with Albert, although she wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse, considering. A fleeting thought crossed her mind. What would a child of Ian’s look like? She pushed the thought away. Good heavens, discussing the filly’s mating with the stallion must have turned her mind. She and Ian were barely civil to each other. He certainly wasn’t entertaining ideas ofmatingwith her. Not that she was, either. Thinking such thoughts. She wasn’t. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin.
“You are quite right. The subject of one beingenceinteis not broached in London parlors.”
Ian raised a brow. “But ye pay nae heed of what is proper?”
She wasn’t quite sure how to take that. “I am not overly fond of parlor conversation. Or London Society, for that matter.”
“Is that why ye came north?”
“Partly.” She certainly wasn’t going to tell him she and her sisters had no place else to go. “I am quite interested in learning about distilling whisky.”
A corner of his mouth quirked up. “I would say ye have a fair passing acquaintance with the whisky process already.”
He was obviously referring to the way she’d finished off that dram, which certainly hadn’t been ladylike, but she’d had enough experience sneaking into Albert’s library to take a quick swig of cognac to ward off the pain of the latest bruise she’d received. She had not had time to linger and sip. But Ian didn’t need to know that, either.
“I am interested in learning about sheep farming, too.”
His brow lifted again. “To supplement your knowledge of horse breeding?”
“Not all women limit themselves to playing the pianoforte and embroidery.”
“A fact I’ll tuck away.” He studied her. “How do ye ken about horses?”
“The estate next to the earl’s—my husband’s—country house bred horses. Hunters, mostly, but the owner was interested in developing good saddle horses as well. He’d invested in several Andalusians and Friesians.” The man and his wife had taken pity on her and invited her and her sisters over often to get away from Albert. Another fact Ian didn’t need to know. “Since I enjoy riding, I took an interest.”
He gave her a skeptical look. “I still doona think Muirne is the right horse for ye.”
Having heard her name, the filly snorted and pawed the ground. Emily ran a hand along her sleek neck and led the animal to a bale of hay. Before anyone thought to stop her, she used it as a mounting block to slip into the saddle. “Let’s find out, shall we?”
Tapping the filly’s flanks gently, she rode out of the stable, leaving Ian gaping at her.
…
Ian muttered a curse and leaped onto Paden. The stallion didn’t need any urging to catch up to the filly. His hooves clattered over the drawbridge directly behind Muirne, causing her to shy suddenly to the left. For a moment, Emily swayed in the saddle before catching her balance. If she’d been using a sidesaddle, she doubtless would have been tossed over.
“I told ye that filly is nae ready for the road,” Ian said. “Turn around. We will get ye another mount.”
“We will do nothing of the kind,” Emily replied, her hand stroking the filly’s neck to calm her. “You should not have galloped directly behind her. You practically overrode us.”
