Cowboy, pirate, wild tribal horseman. How could he be three of her biggest fantasy weaknesses all rolled into one big, bold package?
Boyle McGrath. She said his name in her head, and thought: You could be trouble for me, and I’m sointerestedwhen it comes to trouble.
“Oh, he’s in a mood, our Boyle is. Well, you’d best get used to it if you come to work here, for God knows he has them.”
Meara stepped forward, raised her voice. “Giving you a run for it, is he then?”
“Tried to take a chunk out of me. Twice. The right bastard. Tries it again I may geld him myself with a bleeding butter knife.”
When Boyle pulled up, the horse shook, pranced, tried to rear.
Big hands, scarred at the knuckles like the eyebrow, the boots, fought the horse down. “I may murder Fin for this one.”
As if daring his rider, the horse tried to rear yet again. Instinctively Iona stepped up, gripped the bridle.
“Stay back there,” Boyle snapped. “He bites.”
“I’ve been bitten before.” She spoke directly to the horse, her eyes on his. “But I’d rather not be again, so just stop it. You’re gorgeous,” she crooned. “And so pissed off. But you might as well cut it out and see what happens next.”
She flicked a glance up at Boyle. He wouldn’t bite, she thought, but suspected he had other ways to take a chunk out of a foe.
“I bet you’d get testy, too, if somebody packed you up and took you away from home, then dumped you with a bunch of strangers.”
“Testy? He kicked a stable hand and bit a groom, and that was just this morning.”
“Stop it,” Iona repeated when the horse tried to jerk his head free. “Nobody likes a bully.” Using her free hand, she stroked his neck. “Even beautiful ones like you. He’s pissed off, that’s all, and making sure we all know it,” she said to Boyle.
“Oh, is that all? Well then, no harm done.” He dismounted, shortened the reins. “You’d be the American cousin then, the one Branna sent.”
“Iona Sheehan, and I’m probably as inconvenient to you as this stallion. But I know horses, and this one didn’t like being taken away from all he knew. Everything’s different here. I know what that’s like,” she said to the horse. “What’s his name?”
“Fin’s calling him Alastar.”
“Alastar. You’ll make your place here.” She released the bridle, and the horse flicked his ears. But if he considered trying for a nip, he changed his mind, looked carelessly away.
“I brought my resume,” Iona began. Business, business, business, she reminded herself. And stay out of trouble. And pulled out the flash drive she’d stuck in her pocket that morning.
“I’ve ridden since I was three, and worked with horses—grooming, mucking, trail and guided rides. I’ve given instruction, private and group. I know horses,” she repeated. “And I’m willing to do whatever you need for a chance to work here.”
“I’ve shown her around and about,” Meara began, then took the flash drive from Iona. “I’ll put this on your desk.”
Boyle kept the reins firm in his hand, and his eyes, a burnished gold with hints of green, direct on Iona. “Resumes are just words on paper, aren’t they? They’re not doing. I can give you work, mucking out. We’ll see if you know your way around a horse for grooming before I set you on that. But there’s always tack to clean.”
Riding boot in the door, she reminded herself. “Then I’ll muck and clean.”
“You’d make more walking over to the castle and seeing about work there. Waitresses, housekeeping, clerking.”
“It’s not about making more. It’s about doing what I love, and what I’m meant to do. That’s here. I’m fine with mucking out.”
“Then Meara can get you started on it.” He took the flash drive from Meara, stuck it in his own pocket. “I’ll see to the paperwork once I get this one settled.”
“You’re going to put him in a stall?”
“I’m not after checking him into the hotel.”
“He’d like... Couldn’t he use a little more exercise? He’s gotten warmed up.”
Boyle arched his brows, drawing her gaze to the scarred one—the sexy one. “He’s given me near an hour’s fight already this morning.”
