Catherine’s gaze darted from him to the mare, who struck the ground again with her foreleg, sides heaving. “What frightened her?”
“Thunder, likely. Or her own shadow.” He tried to move nearer, speaking low, steady, but the mare reared again, eyes wild. Aidan held his ground, though she could see the muscle jump in his jaw. “She gets like this when the storms come. Has a mind o’ her own. I can never calm her, nae even on good days.”
The wind rattled the shutters, and the mare snorted harder, throwing her head as if to break the halter. Catherine stepped forward, the hem of her cloak brushing the straw. “And yet ye stand here still.”
He shot her a glance, the kind that could have cut stone. “Aye. She’d hurt herself if I didnae. But dinnae come closer. She’s half mad wi’ fear.”
Catherine ignored him. “What’s her name?”
“She daesnae have one.”
That stopped her. “Daesnae have—? Ye keep a creature like this and never name her?”
“She bit the last man who tried badly.” His tone was dry, strained. “I thought it safer tae leave her be.”
Catherine shook her head, her hood slipping back as she studied the trembling animal. “All beings should have a name, even the untamed.” She took another slow step forward.
“Catherine,” he warned. “Stay back. I mean it.”
But she was already moving, her hand raised slightly, her voice soft. “Easy now, lass. Ye’re nae alone.” The mare’s ears flicked toward her. “Aye, that’s it. Beautiful thing, ye are. Nay one’s goin’ tae hurt ye.”
The horse tossed its head again, but its eyes softened, the wildness dimming into wary attention. Catherine moved carefully, her boots sinking into the damp straw. She could feel Aidan’s stare burning into her, but she didn’t look his way. Her world had narrowed to the sound of the mare’s breathing, thetremor of her flanks, the faint shimmer of fear that hung in the air between them.
“Catherine,” he said again, lower this time, as if afraid to break whatever spell was forming. “She’ll strike.”
“She willnae.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “She’s just frightened. Ye can see it in her eyes.”
“Frightened things hit hardest.”
She smiled faintly, though her heart hammered. “So dae proud men, I’ve noticed.”
That earned half a sigh from him, but he did not move closer. Rain hissed against the roof. The mare’s breath came harsh and uneven, yet when Catherine reached the edge of the stall, she did not rear again. Her nostrils flared, her gaze fixed on Catherine’s outstretched hand.
“There now,” Catherine murmured. “Ye’ve been alone too long, havenae ye?” She inched forward until her fingers brushed the damp velvet of the mare’s muzzle. The animal shuddered once, as if uncertain whether to flee or lean closer. Catherine’s palm steadied, her touch light but sure. “Shh. It’s all right.”
Aidan stared, unmoving. The same horse that had nearly kicked through the wall minutes before now stood trembling but still, her breath hot against Catherine’s wrist. The mare blinked once, then lowered her head. Catherine ran her hand along the smoothline of her neck, speaking softly, nonsense words threaded with calm.
“There,” she whispered. “See? Naethin’ tae fear.”
The stall fell silent except for the rhythm of the rain. Catherine turned her head slightly, meeting Aidan’s gaze over the curve of the horse’s shoulder. The look on his face stopped her breath. It wasn’t surprise alone—it was something deeper, rawer. He looked as though the ground had shifted beneath him and he was not sure yet where to stand.
“How—” he began, but the word broke, uncharacteristically unsteady. He tried again. “How did ye dae that?”
Catherine blinked at him, still stroking the mare’s neck. The animal’s breath came slow now, warm and damp against her palm, as if it had forgotten the storm altogether. “I dinnae ken,” she said softly. “I’ve always been able tae. Since I was a child.”
Aidan’s brow furrowed. “Always?”
She nodded, a small smile flickering over her lips. “Aye. I used tae sneak away from me tutors and sit in the stables back home. Me faither said I had the stubbornness of a stallion meself, so perhaps they recognized one of their own.”
Aidan’s mouth curved faintly, though his eyes remained fixed on her. “And ye can calm any o’ them? Just like that?”
Catherine’s smile turned wistful. “Nae, nae all. But most. Some creatures listen better than people. They dinnae demand explanations—they only need patience. A gentle hand. And a bit o’ pride, I suppose.”
He tilted his head, watching her with that same unreadable expression. “And yer family? What dae they make o’ it?”
Her fingers stilled for a heartbeat. “They think it’s nonsense,” she said finally. “A jest. Alyson says I only flatter beasts because I cannae flatter men. Michael laughs. Tòrr says I’ve too soft a heart.” She glanced up, her voice quiet but steady. “They forget softness daesnae mean weakness. Sometimes it means ye simply refuse tae give up.”
Something in Aidan’s face shifted, subtle as a shadow passing across the light. “They’re wrong,” he said. “What ye did just now—it’s nae nonsense. I’ve seen seasoned riders try and fail tae calm that mare. Ye stepped in like ye were born tae it.”
