With a satisfied nod, Branna tucked her hair back. “I can’t say I disagree.”
“And there’s a fragrant stick up the arse for him.” Connor set the shovel on his shoulder. “I’m hungry.”
Beaming happy, Iona hooked arms with her cousins. “I’m cooking breakfast.”
“God help us, but I’m hungry enough myself I’ll risk it.”
Branna walked back with them, glancing back once. Right up the arse, she thought.
12
SHE ENJOYED THE NEW ROUTINE, WALKING WITH CONNOR IN THE MORNINGS, riding Alastar on the guideds, juggling in a few students, then having Boyle walk or drive her home again.
Late afternoons meant work and practice, and an additional hour at night for refining her skills.
The sun came out again, so the river sparkled with it. The loughs went to gleaming mirrors, and the green of the fields and hills only deepened under its shine through the puffs and layers of clouds streaming across the sky.
She could forget—almost—all that lay on the line, all yet to be faced. After all, she was having a romance.
Not one that included poetry and flowers, and her romantic sensibilities would have relished just that. But when your heart aimed toward a man like Boyle, you had to learn to find poetry in brief words and long silences, and flowers in an unexpected mug of tea pushed into your hands or a quick nod of approval.
And who needed flowers when the man could kiss the breath out of her? Which he did in the green shadows of the woods, or in the disordered cab of his lorry.
Romance, a home, a steady paycheck, a magnificent horse she could call her own, and the new and brilliant understanding of her craft. If she just eliminated the threat of ancient evil, her life struck the top of the bell.
She finished her lesson with Sarah, both of them pleased with the progress.
“Your form’s really improving. We’re going to work more on changing leads, smoothing that out.”
“But when can we add another bar? I’m ready, Iona, I know it.”
“We’ll see how it goes next lesson.” Looking up into Sarah’s pleading eyes, Iona patted her mount’s neck. And remembered herself at that age. “I’ll tell you what. One bar up, one jump before you take Winnie in and tend to her.”
“You mean it! Oh, thanks! Thanks! This is brilliant.”
“One bar, one jump,” Iona repeated, and glanced at Sarah’s mother as she started to the bars. She hefted one, maneuvered it in place.
Just three feet, she thought, and believed her student could handle it. If not, the horse would know.
She looked back at the horse now.
She wants to fly, wants to feel you fly with her. Keep it steady.
Iona stepped back, noted Sarah’s mother twisted the ends of the scarf she wore around her neck.
“All right, Sarah. It’s only one bar, but you have to let Winnie know you’re in it together. Trust her, and let her know she can trust you. Eyes open, let’s have a good, steady pace, and remember your form.”
Her heart was pounding, Iona knew. With such excitement, and some nerves. Still a beginner’s course, even with the single additional bar, but a new challenge, a new hope.
“Good, that’s good,” she called out, circling as Sarah took Winnie around the course. “Posture, Sarah, light hands. You both know what to do.”
Set, she thought, steady and smooth. Gather. And go.
She flew a little herself as she watched her student soar cleanly over the bar, land well, adjust. Then wave one hand over her head in triumph.
“Oh, it’s like magick, it is! Can’t I do it again, Iona? Just once more?”
“Once more around, then Winnie needs her rubdown.”
