“She’s likely terrified,” Tess said. “But will you send Mrs. Wilton round to the edge of the barn near Daisy’s stall?”
Mr. Wilton nodded.
Dominic bent to enter the dilapidated barn without hesitation. “Watch your head,” he urged, checking over his shoulder as if to make sure Tess was behind him.
Tess dodged puddles, lifting the edge of her skirt, as rain trickled down her neck from the straw overhead.
“Hello, Miss Daisy,” Dominic said with all the warmth and charm he’d wielded when greeting Priscilla Walcott that day in the village. “You’re all right, girl.”
“Part of her stall is damaged,” Tess whispered as she pointed to the beam of wood that had collapsed under the weight of the sunken roof.
“Can we get her past it?” Dominic asked.
Tess inched closer from the far side of the stall. “It’s not blocking her, but she may not realize that.”
“Daisy, love, come out now,” Mrs. Wilton called softly through a wood-framed window at the edge of the barn.
The red-coated cow turned its head at the sound of its carer’s voice.
“That’s it, Daisy girl. Will you come with us?” Tess asked. She looked around, found her lead rope with a slipknothanging on a peg, and approached slowly. Reaching out, she laid a hand on Daisy’s side, letting the animal get used to her nearness. “Nothing to be afraid of.”
“Careful, Tess,” Dominic whispered.
She reached back to offer him the rope. “You’re taller. Can you loop it over her head?”
Wordlessly, he took the rope, then moved up close behind Tess. So close his chest brushed against her back. “She’s still scared.”
Tess saw the signs too—swishing tail, wide eyes.
“It’s all right, girl,” Dominic said, his voice low and comforting. “You’re safe.”
Mrs. Wilton had begun singing a pretty little tune that once again seemed to catch Daisy’s attention.
With the cow’s head turned, Dominic reached up, his body inching Tess’s forward slightly, and looped the rope over Daisy’s head.
“You did it.” Tess turned her head to glance at him. He stood close, and the heat of his body warmed her skin. “Now we have to hope she’ll let us lead her.”
Dominic lowered his arm along Tess’s side and slipped the rope into her hand.
When he stepped away from her, the loss of his warmth shot an odd sense of longing through her, which she forced herself to ignore.
Gently, she tugged Daisy forward. At first, the cow tossed its head, but as Mrs. Wilton continued singing, and Tess and Dominic offered words of encouragement in soft voices, Daisy took her first tentative step outside of her stall.
“That’s it, girl,” Dominic said with what sound liked genuine enthusiasm. “A little farther, love.”
Tess smiled at his wooing tone and could not deny the appeal of his low, resonant voice.
Daisy wasn’t immune either. The cow took two steps forward, and Tess kept the rope’s pressure lightly taut but not tight against her neck.
Dominic laid a hand against Tess’s back as if to guide her as she stepped backward, her eyes trained on the cow.
“You’re doing grand, Daisy,” Tess crooned. “A few more steps and I’m sure we can rustle up a carrot for you.”
Dominic chuckled. Tess turned her head.
“What?” Tess said. “A treat would motivate me.”
His eyes met hers, crinkled at the corners from his smile. “I’ll remember that.”
