“We all do.”
A scant smile lifted her lips. “Good to know you have sound reasoning to support your ideas. I’d feared you might be one of those British Goat Society folk. Wanting to show the beasties off as if they were prime horseflesh.”
Since he’d gotten the idea after being cornered at a London ball he’d escorted his sister to the previous Season by one of those society folk with no polite means of deliverance, there was no beneficial response to her comment. He’d read their pamphlet out of pure boredom. Aye, their goal for prize breeding smacked of insanity, however, their aim to aid the cottagers made solid sense.
“I’ve more in mind for Dinton Grange than a few goats.” Connor found himself defending his ideas. “The new farmlands will allow for oats and barley to supplement the wheat they already grow. Potatoes, too, if I have anything to say about it. Estate owners will need to be diverse if they hope to…” He trailed off as an impish grin formed on her lips. “What?”
“You’re a farmer.”
He straightened, stretching the aggrieved knot that tightened his chest at the thought that she might think less of him. “I’m the son of an earl.”
“You’re a farmer,” she repeated, with a burst of laughter.
Connor glared at her a moment then relented. “And what is wrong wi’ that, precisely? Wanting nothing more than the achievement of a hard day’s work? To feel the earth in my hands? To be a good man?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
* * *
A good man.
Piper’s amusement faded away. She’d always thought Harry to be the best of men. Her father and stepfather a pace or two behind him. A wistful sigh welled up. As if he sensed the change in her mood, Connor’s steady gaze lingered, patient and waiting.
“I suppose I haven’t known many. Experience has taught me that there are two types of men in the world. Those who are all spit and shine. All gloss and no substance. Any caring they demonstrate is only a false reflection of that polish, a mirage really. Like an oasis in the desert, gone when you need it the most.”
“Hardly complimentary to my gender. And the other?”
“Then there are those who are so tarnished no amount of polish can make them shine.” It was now or never, she supposed. It was what she sought him out for, after all. With unavoidable changes on the horizon, her need for unbiased advice was greater than ever. “It has become a challenge for me to place my trust in men.”
He frowned at that. “I dinnae ken how ye can say that. Ye’ve every man in the county watching out for ye.”
“Not every one.” Piper shook her head. “These men, they are my people. I’ve known most of them my entire life, and they protect me because of that. Like them, you’ve shown that you will not betray my presence. Regrettably, I’ve recently learned that loyalties can change. My point is that I’ve taken your measure, Mr. MacKintosh.”
He winced. “Have ye now? I should hate to fall into either of those categories. There is another sort of man.”
Connor reined in his horse and she pulled up with a frown. “Mr. MacKintosh, what are you about?”
“Please call me Connor.” He dismounted and came to her side, his gorgeous eyes solemn as he raised his arms. “Come here.”
“Why?”
“Come here, lass,” he repeated, his brogue deep.
“Mr. MacKintosh…”
“Connor.”
What was it that compelled her to comply? The slow rolling burr of his name? The gentle insistence in his eyes? She didn’t know. Leaning toward him, Piper set her hands on his broad shoulders and slid from Dandy’s back. Connor grasped her waist and held her there, aloft yet steady.
A heartbeat later—or was it an eternity?—he lowered her slowly until her toes touched the ground. His strong hands lingered at her waist as he looked down at her.
“Ye can trust me, lass. As ye trusted me now so readily. There are men who are stalwart and honorable. I willnae let ye fall. I will never fail ye. Ye have my word.”
His assertion settled in her heart with all the promise of a guiding light in the dark. A promise as solid as the breadth of his shoulders beneath her hands. Shoulders broad enough to take all of her weight should she choose to lean upon them.
Hard and muscular, unmalleable under her kneading fingers. Piper stilled, eyes downcast. She should remove her hands. As he should his. Nevertheless, there she stood. Savoring the heat that radiated through his shirt. Recalling the sight of him. Marveling at the feel of him.
“This was meant to be an exercise in trust, lass.” His voice grew deep and husky. “Dinnae tempt me to fail ye now.”
