Signy laughed aloud as Thor dashed up to her and skidded to a stop in a flurry of sand and pebbles, Fiona giving a yip of welcome. “Thor!” She reached up to caress the elegant neck and ears. “How are you, my beautiful boy? I’m sorry I don’t have an apple or carrot for you.”
Ramsay grinned. “I wondered who exercised Thor after my grandfather became too weak to ride. Obviously it wasn’t one of the grooms.”
Signy glanced up as the stallion nudged her with his muzzle, then touched noses with the dog. “I had to do a lot of riding on the laird’s behalf, and Thor needed the exercise. He and I had always had a special relationship, so it worked out very well. But now he’s your horse, of course.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Ramsay said with amusement. “Thor was quite determined to say hello.”
“I haven’t been able to go out riding with him for a week, so he probably missed me.” She patted the glossy neck again.
“Hard to believe that a week ago I was still sailing north from Aberdeen.” He collected Thor’s reins in preparation for leaving. “How are you spending your day off?”
She chuckled. “I slept late, baked a new batch of shortbread, and decided to take a walk. I could become used to this.”
His brows rose. “How long would it be before you became restless and needed more tasks to keep you busy?”
“Two days? Perhaps three.” Enjoying his company, she said on impulse, “But for now, would you like some shortbread and tea?”
He hesitated a moment. “I probably shouldn’t intrude on your leisure time, but tea and shortbread would be lovely.”
Ramsay dismounted and led Thor back along the beach, walking on the opposite side of the horse from Signy. She enjoyed watching him, not just because he was tall and fit and handsome but because of the easy confidence with which he moved. He had a quality of being at home in his body that was appealing. She smiled to herself, thinking that was rather like the way Thor moved.
Reminding herself that she shouldn’t stare, she asked, “Were you riding somewhere in particular, or just riding for pleasure?”
“I woke very early and decided to check out Thor’s gaits.”
“Which are flawless,” she said. “I’ve never seen a finer Thorsayian horse, though your grandfather has several others that are almost as good.”
“On the way home, I stopped by Thorfield and almost the first thing Broc did was ask me about stud fees.”
“Your grandfather would approve,” Signy said. “He talked about setting Thor up as a stud but hadn’t got around to it. What will you charge for Thor’s services?”
“I told Broc that one of his mother’s breakfasts would do for the first mare Thor covers, but I’ll have to think more about fees for the future.” He frowned. “I’m glad I didn’t give Broc a cash price. Over breakfast I learned what a hard time the Mackenzies have had.”
That was an understatement. Even Flora, who had a spine of pure steel, had come close to breaking down when threatened with the loss of Thorfield. Thank heaven the old laird had been able to prevent that. “A ghastly time, but they’ve survived the worst of it, I think.”
She guided them around the cottage to the flattened area at the bottom of the path down the bluff. With the cottage on one side and the bluff on the other, it was protected from the wind, and Signy had installed a small watering trough and an iron ring in the wall of the house. “Will you tether Thor while I get water and his blanket?”
As Ramsay obeyed, he said, “This seems to be Thor’s second home.”
“He’s spent several nights here when it made more sense than returning him to Skellig House and collecting him again in the morning,” she admitted as she headed inside, Fiona on her heels. She filled a bucket with water and collected Thor’s horse blanket, which was fine enough for a Derby winner.
As she emptied the bucket into the trough, Ramsay spread the blanket over Thor’s back. When they entered the cottage, he said, “I hadn’t thought about it, but where does your water come from?”
“There’s a spring on the bluff above. Some years ago, your grandfather installed pipes to bring fresh water to the cottage. Since it comes from higher ground, a simple stopcock controls the water.” Signy turned the stopcock to fill the kettle, then set it over the fire. “Did you know your grandmother used this cottage as a retreat from the busyness of Skellig House?”
He looked surprised. “I recall that she regularly disappeared for several hours at a time, but I never thought much about it. I assumed she’d withdrawn to her sewing room.”
Signy waved him to a chair. “Sometimes she did that, but when she really wanted privacy, she came here because she was harder to find. No one was allowed in the cottage without her invitation.” Signy opened a pottery jar and pulled out a mixed handful of shortbread and gingerbread bars. She tossed a little piece of shortbread to Fiona, then set the rest on a small plate.
“It’s remarkable how oblivious a child can be to those around him,” he observed. “Skellig House was usually busy with people coming and going, so I didn’t notice when my grandmother wasn’t visible.”
“She enjoyed peace and quiet and the sound of the sea. She’d come here to read or do the household accounts. Or weave.” Signy gestured at the small loom in the corner of the long front room. “That loom was hers. She was a much better weaver than I, but I like to use it in winter and imagine that she’s sitting next to me.”
“No wonder I’m so comfortable here,” Ramsay said quietly. “She must have filled this space with her own warmth.”
“I’ve often thought the same. It’s one of the reasons I asked the old laird if I could live here.” Signy rose and poured boiling water into her favorite teapot. “And now Sea Cottage is mine.”
“As it should be.” He gazed out the windows at the endless rolling waves. “This seems so much your place.”
