As Iona strode out, Darling gave another whicker that might have been an equine chuckle. Kevin slid his hands in his pockets, whistled a tune.
“Not a bloody word,” Boyle muttered. “From either of you.”
* * *
PLEASED WITH HER DAY ON EVERY LEVEL, IONA WALKED HOME THROUGH THE GREEN SHADOWS. It felt good to step into her instructor’s boots again, and with such a promising student. Maybe, with that door cracked, Fin or Boyle would trust her with another student or two.
And speaking of doors cracking, the unexpected and thoroughly satisfying interlude in the stables gave both her ego and her mood a big, lofty boost.
Plus, she could see some very interesting possibilities through that crack.
Boyle McGrath, she thought. Tough, taciturn, temperamental. And a marshmallow when it came to the pretty, traumatized mare who adored him. She really wanted to get to know him better, to find out if all this fluttering and stirring equaled basic physical attraction, or something more.
She’d hoped for something more most of her life.
Plus, it boosted everything higher because he was reluctant, conflicted, and a little pissed off. He just couldn’t help himself, and that was so sexy.
Maybe she should ask him out, just something casual. A drink at the pub? A movie? First she’d have to find out where people went to movies around here.
If she could cook, she’d invite herself to his place to make him dinner. But there lay disaster waiting to happen. Maybe instead, she could . . .
She paused, baffled as she glanced around. She hadn’t veered from the path, had she? Maybe she hadn’t paid strict attention, but after taking this walk back and forth for days, it was instinct.
Yet, something was wrong, the direction seemed off.
She did a circle, rubbing arms that had gone suddenly cold.
And watched the fog crawl across the ground.
“Uh-oh.”
Iona took a step back, struggled to orient herself. On impulse she turned right, started down the narrow track at a jog. It took only seconds to realize she’d chosen wrong, and was moving deeper into the woods.
When she turned around to backtrack, trees wide as her arm span blocked the way. Fog oozed between their rugged trunks.
She ran. Better to run in any direction than become trapped. But to the right, trees pushed out of the ground, crackling, snapping as they broke through the turf. And forcing her to angle away.
The light changed, going gray like the fog. Wind, ice-edged, whistled through limbs as they knotted and tangled together to close out the sun.
Air, she thought frantically, trees through the earth, water in the form of fog.
He used the elements against her.
She forced herself to stop, pulled for power though fear rose with it. Throwing out her hands, she held twin balls of fire.
The chuckle sounded low, pricked over her skin like the legs of a spider. She shivered at the whisper of her name. Then every muscle quivered at the rustle, at the growl.
“Kathel.”
But what stepped out of the gray light was the wolf of her nightmare.
Not a dream this time. As real as her terror, as the wild beat of her heart.
As he padded closer, slinking toward her, she caught a glimpse of the jewel glowing red at his throat.
/> “Keep back,” she warned, and the wolf showed his fangs.
She’d never outrun it, she thought even as she took a step back. And the look in its glinting eyes told her it knew.