IN THE STABLES BOYLE BRUSHED DARLING AS MUCH TO soothe himself as to groom her. He’d sent his stable hands home a bit early, as he’d coveted a little time alone. Now, with the sweet mare for company in the quiet stables, he could roll through all the things crowding his mind.
There were bills to pay and orders to make, and he’d get to all that, wouldn’t he? He had all evening for that, as he needed.
Wanted, he corrected.
A man needed time and space of his own without a woman expecting his attention.
So he shouldn’t be thinking about going by and scooping her up so she’d be in his time and space.
If anything, once the paperwork was seen to, he should take some of that time to think about all that had happened that day.
He’d have to tell Fin the whole of it, of course, and would whenever Fin got back. They’d talk it out over a pint, so there was no room for Iona, even if he was inclined for her.
Which he was, all the damn time.
What the hell did it mean when a man couldn’t keep a woman out of his space, much less his mind?
Bewitched is what he was, by blue eyes and an easy laugh, and a pretty body he couldn’t keep his bloody hands off of. And that utter faith in the good and the happy that lived inside her, though he understood, more and more, how little of either she’d had.
Finding himself wanting to give her the good and the happy troubled him more than a little. Hadn’t he planned out the entire day with the goal of giving her just that? Not that it had worked out in all cases, considering dark visions and a scare that had near stopped his heart. But he’d planned it all, with her in mind.
Always in his mind, she was.
It was time to remind himself that what a man needed, when it came down to it, was room, work, a good horse, and a pint at the end of a hard day.
“That’s it, isn’t it, Darling? We’ve got what counts right here.”
In the next stall Alastar snorted and blew.
“I’m not after talking to you, am I? Bad-tempered beast.”
“And you’d know about that,” Fin said from behind him. “What are you brooding about, brother?”
The man could sneak up on a body, Boyle thought, like smoke from a flue. “Who says I’m brooding?”
“I do.” Fin reached out, stroked Darling’s neck. “Sent the men off early, did you?”
“A bit. Everything’s done needs doing today.”
“I thought you’d be out rambling still with Iona.”
“We did enough, maybe more than.”
“Trouble then? Of a personal sort or a magickal sort?”
“Both, I’m thinking. It started early this morning, as you know, when I shared a dream with her and came to blows with that cursed bastard.”
“You had more trouble from that?”
When Fin gripped his shoulder, Boyle just kept brushing the horse. “Nothing serious or lasting. So I’ll tell you the rest.”
And he did, from the beginning, right on through to when he carried Iona out of the friary. Only grunted when Fin grabbed his hand.
“I told you she fixed it, and Connor had a look as well.”
“I’ll look for myself now.” Once he did, Fin nodded, let Boyle’s hand go. “You said you hurt him. You’re sure of it now that some time’s passed and you’ve thought it through?”
Boyle curled his hand into a fist. “I know when I land a blow, mate.”