She swallowed hard, forcing her focus back to the horse before her. It was a young mare, her flanks trembling, eyes wide and rolling white. Catherine moved slowly, keeping her voice low, the rhythm of her words like a lullaby.
“Shh, lass. Easy now. Nay one’s goin’ tae harm ye. Ye’ve had a rough few nights, that’s all.”
Her hand brushed the mare’s neck, gentle, coaxing, until the tremors began to still. The horse’s ears twitched toward her voice, her breathing slowing to match Catherine’s own. She kept stroking the animal, until all the tension seemed to leave its body.
“There,” Catherine murmured, after a few minutes. “That’s it.”
She stepped closer, running her fingers through the mare’s mane. The air felt lighter, quieter, the panic in the animals fading into cautious calm. One by one, they seemed to follow the mare’s lead, their heads lowering, the frantic pacing giving way to stillness.
Behind her, she heard one of the men whisper under his breath, “Saints preserve us.”
The stablemaster, a grizzled man with hands like bark, approached from the doorway, hat in hand. His expression hovered between disbelief and awe. “I’ve been tendin’ beasts all me life,” he said slowly, “but I’ve ne’er seen the like o’ that. They near trampled me this mornin’.”
Catherine smiled faintly, brushing stray hair from her face. “They’re only frightened. Ye’ve just got tae let them ken they’re safe.”
The man nodded, his weathered face softening. “Aye, well… safe or nae, I reckon they’d follow ye intae battle now.”
That earned a few quiet chuckles from the men nearby. Catherine tried not to glance at Aidan, but she felt his gaze all the same like a weight against her skin.
“Fine work, me lady,” one of the younger men said, still holding his cap awkwardly in his hands. “Wouldnae have believed it if I hadn’t seen it meself.”
“Thank ye,” she said lightly, though her pulse was still racing.
The stablemaster gave a low whistle. “Ye’ve a gift, lass. Cannae teach what ye just did there. It’s in the blood.”
Catherine turned to look at him, her tone softening. “Me faither used tae say the same. Said animals understand what words cannae.”
There was a murmur of agreement, the kind that ripples through a group when awe lingers and no one quite knows how to express it. Catherine took a breath, her heart finally beginning to steady. She should have felt triumphant, but all she could feel was the strange awareness of Aidan, watching in silence.
She dared a glance over her shoulder.
He stood near the far stall, arms crossed, broad shoulders casting a long shadow in the dust-speckled light. His expression was composed, but there was something in his eyes that unraveled her composure entirely, made her throat tighten and her pulse stumble.
She turned back quickly before he could see the warmth rising to her cheeks.
Pull yerself together, Catherine.He’s only lookin’. The man stares at everyone like that. Like he’s weighin’ them.
The others drifted out, but Catherine stayed where she was, running her hand absently along the mare’s neck, trying to calm herself as much as the animal. The sounds of work faded from the stable yard—men’s laughter giving way to distant shouts, the creak of carts, the rhythmic strike of hammers rebuilding walls. Soon, even those noises grew faint.
The horses had settled, soft breath filling the quiet. Only she and Aidan remained.
She could feel the shift in the air the moment the others were gone. The weight of it pressed against her skin. When she dared glance again over her shoulder, he hadn’t moved. He was still watching her, his arms crossed, posture easy, expression unreadable. But there was a steadiness in his gaze that pinned her all the same.
She forced herself to look away, focusing on the horse’s mane, her fingers brushing through the tangles. Her heart would not slow.
He broke the silence first, his voice low, softer than before. “They’re calm now.”
“Aye.” Her throat was dry. “Seems they just needed a bit o’ gentle coaxin’.”
He made a quiet sound that might’ve been agreement, or disbelief. “Gentle, aye. But it takes more than that. They listen tae ye.”
Catherine glanced at him then, her lips curving faintly despite herself. “I only did what any decent hand would’ve done.”
“Nay,” he said, his voice firmer this time. “That was somethin’ else entirely.”
She turned fully to face him. “If ye start callin’ me a witch, me laird, I’ll take offense.”
Aidan’s mouth twitched at the corner. “I wouldnae dare.”
