“Molly won’t hurt me.”
“No’ on purpose,” Mr. McTaggart said, “but Mistress Gallagher is right to remind you to watch yer fingers. One nip from old Molly and you willna make that mistake again.” His lips curved into a warm smile that reached his green eyes as Edith approached. “Good morning, lass.”
“Good morning, Mr. McTaggart.” She returned his smile, conscious of his gaze locked on her.
He nodded toward Gracie. “Show Mistress Gallagher how I taught you to feed Molly.”
The girl wrapped her fingers around the carrot so it stuck up from her fist and held it out to the mare. The horse sniffed her hand until she found the carrot and took it.
“Well done.” Mr. McTaggart tweaked Gracie’s red nose before pulling another piece of carrot from his coat pocket. “Would you like to feed Molly, Mistress Gallagher?”
Edith startled. “Me? But I’ve never…”
She’d spent her life in the city avoiding being trampled by horses in the streets. The thought of standing close to the intimidating creature made her tremble.
“It is time you did, lass.” He held his hand out to her. “I willna let her hurt you.”
Gracie turned to Edith with raised brows. “You aren’t afraid, are you, Edith?” Then she addressed Mr. McTaggart. “If she’s not afraid of you, she’s not afraid of Molly.”
Mr. McTaggart laughed. “Aye, lassie. Mistress Gallagher has never been afraid of goin’ toe-to-toe with me. She’s a brave one, she is.”
Warmth spread through Edith at their praise. She wasn’t brave, of course, but she wanted to live up to their expectations. Tentatively, she placed her hand in Mr. McTaggart’s and allowed him to draw her to his side.
“Hold it in your fist like Miss Gracie did.” As she followed his directions, he slid his hand to the small of her back. A shiver raced through her. “You can do it, lass. I will keep you safe.”
Perhaps he would protect her from the horse, but who would protect her from him? Coming along on the sleigh ride seemed like a bad idea now that she was standing beside him and savoring the heat of his touch penetrating the pelisse.
He leaned his head close to hers and softly spoke words of encouragement as she inched her fist toward the mare. “Steady, lass. Dinna jerk yer hand back or you’ll confuse her. I dinna want her learning to grab a treat while she can or she might start ta bite.”
Edith didn’t find this especially comforting, but with his strong presence at her side, she discovered the courage she needed. When the mare’s velvety lips nibbled at her fist, she sucked in a sharp breath but held still. The horse was gentle when she latched on to the carrot, as if she knew Edith was nervous.
“Verra well done, lass.” Mr. McTaggart’s lips brushed Edith’s earlobe as he whispered into her ear. Suddenly, she was warm all over and the pelisse felt too confining. When he withdrew from her side, however, it didn’t take long for the cold air to chill her again.
Gracie tugged at his sleeve. “Can I feed Molly another?”
“That’s enough for now.” Mr. McTaggart swung the girl in the air to carry her to the sleigh. “If you feed Molly too much, she’ll want ta take a nap instead of pulling us around the estate.”
Edith followed them. A thick fur pelt lay over the seat, and Mr. McTaggart lifted it for Gracie to slide onto the seat. “In the middle, lass.” He escorted Edith to her side and offered her a hand up. “Watch the stones. They’ll keep you warm, but I dinna want you to trip.”
Two large, flat stones lay on the footboards and heat radiated from them as if they had been warmed in a fire. Once she and Gracie were situated with the fur pelt over their laps, he rounded the back of the sleigh and climbed beside Gracie. It was a snug fit, but perfect for the frosty day. Mr. McTaggart winked at Edith over Gracie’s head. “Let the adventure begin.”
He made a clicking noise with his mouth and the mare took off in a trot.
Four
Fergus drewthe horse and sleigh to a halt on a hill overlooking the lands of Aldmist Fell. The fields were buried beneath snow, so there wasn’t much to show Mistress Gallagher, but he still took pride in the land under his care. He pointed toward the valley. “When planting season arrives, that field will be full of bere.”
“Bear?” Mistress Gallagher turned wide eyes on him. “How horrible! What will you do?”
Fergus scratched his jaw. “Eh…”
“I saw a bear at the Royal Menagerie.” Gracie grinned up at him, pulled her hand from her fur muff to make a claw then growled.
“Sassenachs,” he muttered toward the sky, shaking his head in mock distress. “No’thatkind of bear, lassie. Bere is a grain. Like barley.”
“Oh!” Mistress Gallagher said. “That sounds much safer.”
Gracie turned her curious gaze on him. “Are there really bear at Aldmist Fell?”
