She ran her hand across the mare’s neck, and the beast leaned in for more. “She has better manners than most people.”
He should not have smiled at that, but he did, if only for a second.
By the time they set out, the morning was clear and mild, the ground dry enough for an easy pace.
The farther they moved from the castle, the looser the air felt. There were no walls, no servants in passageways or rooms too small for what sat between them. Only open land, a good path, and the quiet rhythm of two horses beneath them.
For the first stretch, Ciaran kept things simple. He spoke about the history of the land around them and how his father had become Laird.
Most of what he said, anyone could find in a history book. And something told him that a woman as restless as Ava would have consumed as much as she could about him and his family’s history. She did live with Isobel for over a decade, sosomepart of her must have been immensely curious at some point.
As he spoke, she listened with interest that seemed real enough, though not especially deep, and asked sensible questions when one arose.
Then the horses found a better stretch of ground, and everything changed.
Ava leaned forward slightly, not enough to lose control, but enough to show him that she knew exactly what to do withspeed. Her mare stretched into it. The movement suited her too well.
Ciaran watched her out of the corner of his eye and raised an eyebrow, almost like he knew what was coming, “Daenae race ahead.”
Ava looked back at him with mock offense. “And who says I mean to?”
“I do.”
“That is unfair.”
“Nay. I am just telling ye beforehand. That horse isnae stable enough for a race.”
The mischievous smile on her face widened, and Ciaran braced himself for whatever came next. “Whatever ye say, me Laird.”
“Ava, wait?—”
Before he could finish, she kicked her heels in and let the mare surge forward.
It was not reckless in the very least. She rode well. Better than he had expected. Her seat was light, her hands steady, and the look on her face when she turned to see whether he followed was full of bright challenge rather than panic.
He raced after her because he had no choice left but to do so.
When he drew level again, she was laughing.
“I used to beat Isobel every time,” she revealed, as if continuing a conversation. “She always swore I cheated.”
“Did ye?”
She looked up at the sky. “Constantly.”
He glanced at her with an arched eyebrow.
She snorted. “All right, nae really, but I let her believe it because it made winning sweeter.”
That coaxed a rough breath from him that should not have been as close to amusement as it was.
Ava noticed.Of course,she noticed.
“I kent it,” she said, the laughter in her voice still evident. “There is a sense of humor buried in ye somewhere.”
“Daenae grow too hopeful.”
“Too late.”
