“Do all the falconers look like that one?”
“Oh, that would be Connor who runs the school. And he’s one of a kind.” I had sex with him before breakfast, she thought, and shot a grin of her own back at him as she led her group on.
“Connor,” she heard the woman say as she fell in behind Meara. “Jack, we should all book that hawk walk.”
Under the circumstances, Meara couldn’t blame her.
She led them along the river, enjoyed them, enjoyed the ride. She took them deep into the green where the shadows thickened, and out again where that blue sky shone over the trees.
When she began to circle them back, she saw the wolf.
Just a shadow in the shadows, with its paws sunk into mist. The stone around its neck gleamed like an eye even as the wolf itself seemed to waver like a vapor.
Her horse trembled under her. “Steady now,” she murmured, keeping her gaze on the wolf as she stroked Queen Bee’s neck. “You be steady now and the rest will follow your lead. You’re the queen, remember.”
The wolf paced them, coming no closer.
Birds no longer sang in the woods; squirrels no longer raced busily along the branches.
Meara took the necklace Connor had given her from under her sweater, held it out a little so the stones caught the light.
Behind her, her group chatted away, oblivious.
The wolf showed its fangs; Meara put a hand on the knife she wore on her belt. If it came, she would fight. Protect the people she guided, the horses, herself.
She would fight.
The hawk dived—from the blue, through the green.
Meara no more than blinked, and the shadow of the wolf was gone.
“Oh, there’s one of the hawks!” Deidre pointed to the branch where the bird perched now, wings folded. “Did he get loose?”
“No, not at all.” Meara steadied herself, put her smile back in place as she turned in the saddle. “That’s Connor’s own Roibeard, having a bit of fun before going back to the school.”
She lifted her hand to the necklace again, and rode easily out of the woods.
11
THE MINUTE HE COULD GET AWAY, CONNOR DROVE around to the stables. Too many people about to talk, he decided immediately, but with Meara chatting with a group she’d just guided back, at least he knew just where she was and what she was doing.
He tracked Boyle down in the stalls, giving Caesar a rubdown.
“Busy days,” Boyle said. “This wedding’s brought in as much business as we can handle.”
“And the same for us. We’ve our last two hawk walks of the day going now.”
“We’ve two out ourselves, though Meara should be back anytime.”
“She’s just back.” Absently, Connor stroked the big gelding as Boyle brushed him out. “Can you set her loose, or do you need her longer today?”
“We’ve the evening feedings yet, and Iona’s at the big stables on a lesson.”
“You’ll keep her close then? I’ll run back and settle my own business for the evening. Is Fin with Iona?”
“He’s home if that’s what you’re meaning, and set to take her to your place when they’re both done.” Connor’s tone had Boyle setting the currycomb aside. “There’s a worry. What is it?”
“Cabhan. He was out today, stalking Meara on her guided. And myself a bit. Nothing came of it,” Connor said when Boyle cursed. “And he wasn’t quite there—not fully physically.”