A Kiss in the Morning Mist Read online

  Without hesitation, Eamon clasped her hand in his and shook. Again that odd sensation filled him, but he chose to ignore it. If she felt it again, nothing gave her away. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “The job comes with a place to stay, Mr. MacDermott, if you don’t already have one. I pay a dollar a day, and you’ll earn every cent. You’ll take your meals with us in the main house. There’s always a pot of coffee on the stove, and you’re more than welcome to it. Sundays and Wednesday afternoons are yours to do with as you wish. There’s a lake through the woods just to the north if you like to fish.”

  Gratitude flowed through him. How could he have been so lucky? Not only would he have a place to stay but good food to fill his belly as well. Trusting the instincts that made him turn up the drive to this farm had paid off tenfold. “Yes, ma’am.”

  A shapely brow rose, and a smile, one he’d been wishing he’d see, hovered at the corner of her mouth. She inclined her head slightly. “I’ll show you to your room.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  She walked quickly, taking two steps to every one of his, but never stopped speaking as she led him toward a small room built onto the side of the barn. She opened the door and stepped aside. “It isn’t much, but it’s warm in winter and cool in summer and it’ll keep the rain and snow off your head.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Dust motes danced in a beam of sunlight coming in through the window and swirled as he stepped inside. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Please call me Theo. We’ll never get along if you insist on calling me ma’am.”

  “Yes, ma—I mean Theo. My horse is out front. Would you mind if I took care of him before I begin working? We’ve had a long journey, Traveler and I.”

  “Of course. Everything you need is in the barn. Come out to the paddock when you’re ready. It’s behind the stable.” She closed the door behind her.

  Eamon listened to the sound of her retreating footsteps as he glanced around the room. The word comfort came to mind as he took in the furnishings. Nothing had been spared. Aside from a small bed, he had a bureau with a mirror, a bedside table, an armoire, a commode, and a small Ben Franklin stove to heat the place in winter. There was even a well-padded leather chair in the corner beside a table and a rag rug on the floor. Above the table, a shelf held several books. Plenty of light streamed in through the open windows, allowing him to briefly peruse the titles. A slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth. The woman had good taste in literature.

  He stepped outside, closing the portal behind him, and popped his head into the barn through the open doors. Sunshine streamed in through several windows along the sides as well as the open matching doors at the opposite end of the barn. The structure was clean, well designed . . . and empty except for a few kittens stalking each other in the hay.

  He met no one else as he made his way to the front of the house to retrieve Traveler. When Theo said she needed him, she wasn’t lying. Where were the children she had mentioned? And the other workers? He hadn’t seen anyone other than her and Granny, and this farm was too big to be run by an old woman and her feisty granddaughter.

  Doesn’t matter, MacDermott. It’s not your business. You won’t stay long enough to find out. The thoughts popped in his head as he untied Traveler’s reins and walked him back to the barn, his hooves kicking up dust on the wide dirt road curving around the house. He never stayed long for fear someone would recognize him and see his guilt.

  He led his horse into the barn, chose a stall, and then removed the saddle, placing it as well as the blanket that had been beneath it on the railing. He slung his saddlebags over the railing, too, then strode down the aisle in search of a currycomb or brush and some oats. He found everything in a small room tucked into a corner at the back of the barn. The smell of leather from saddles, old and new, as well as reins, halters, and harnesses overpowered the smell of hay.

  Eamon inhaled the familiar scent and found himself smiling, something he didn’t do very often anymore, before he grabbed what he needed and strode down the center aisle. He poured some oats into the trough attached to one of the rails, then clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. The horse chuffed and moved toward the trough, sniffed at the oats, and began to eat. “Eat up, boy. You deserve it.” He smoothed his hands along Traveler’s shoulder, speaking to the horse as if he understood every word, then picked up the currycomb and began to brush him down.

  It didn’t take Eamon long to get Traveler settled, nor to grab his saddlebags, go back to his temporary quarters, and unpack his belongings. He didn’t own much, and everything he did own fit into his saddlebags. Living as he had for the past two and a half years, moving from town to town, trying to outrun his past, he didn’t accumulate many possessions. Except for memories and regrets, and he already had plenty of both.

  A sigh escaped him as he dug the last item out of his saddlebag. He sat on the edge of the chair and pulled the strings of the bow holding the burlap-wrapped bundle closed. His hand shook, and his heart beat a rapid tattoo in his chest.

  The tools of his job—the one he’d given up when he promised himself he’d never wear the holster around his hips or shoot the pistols again. He rubbed his hands over the pearl handles now, feeling the smoothness beneath his fingertips. Memories assailed him, making his heart hurt all over again. It would be so much easier if he’d never see these guns again, but for reasons he didn’t understand, he couldn’t give them up, couldn’t sell them for much needed revenue. He’d tried. Too many times to count.

  Deep in his soul, the guns were a part of him, part of his life. And his past.

  With a heavy sigh, he wrapped them once more in burlap and found a safe place to hide them.

  A short time later, Eamon left his quarters, strode around to the back of the stable, and stopped in midstride, not quite prepared for the beauty of the landscape before him. Pasture spread into the near distance, toward a deeply wooded copse. Separated into various enclosures by white fence, the grass was as green as Theo’s eyes, a fact he noticed too quickly. Milk cows grazed to his left. He saw sheep as well. Closer to the back of the barn were chickens and pigs. And in the distance, he saw horses, all shapes and sizes, their colors ranging from blackest black to startling white.

  He skirted the side of the stable and saw her. Theo. She stood in the middle of an enclosure, speaking softly to a horse, her voice a low, soothing hum. She didn’t move very much, and when she did, she did it slowly so as not to frighten the animal.

  Lined up next to the paddock fence, their focus on her, Eamon saw a dog, a duck, and two cats. Not unusual to see on a farm, except these animals were different. The dog’s front leg was shriveled and misshapen, one cat had no tail, and the other cat had no ear and part of its face seemed . . . odd. The duck had a bandage wrapped around his body, keeping both wings close so he couldn’t stretch them out . . . and perhaps fly away?

  As he approached, Theo’s words became clear. “It’s all right, Maizie. I’m going to put this ointment on your sores, like I did yesterday and the day before.” She stood motionless and he realized she was giving Maizie time. “You felt better after that, didn’t you, girl?” The beautiful roan eyed her, then tossed her head, ears pinned back, tail swishing as she backed away. Sunlight struck the slash marks on her dark coat. They were new, but beneath them, he could plainly see older scars. Someone had purposely hurt this animal, and his heart went out to her. Theo had said she didn’t tolerate abuse. Well, neither did he.

  He turned his attention from the horse to the woman. She should have been named Patience because she stood in the paddock as still as a painting, her voice melodic and soft, almost hypnotizing, as she sang a lullaby. After a while, Maizie finally came toward her and nuzzled her shoulder.

  Unable to help himself, Eamon let out his breath, surprised he’d been holding it. “That was amazing.”

  Chapter 2

  Theo didn’t jump when he spoke, but did turn to look at him. She’d noticed him the momen
t he stepped behind the stable. How could she not? The man possessed an assured, confident presence and moved with a natural, easy grace. Easily topping six feet, he possessed broad shoulders and long legs, which filled out his trousers quite nicely. And his mouth . . . good gracious, his mouth looked so kissable, even if he didn’t smile.

  And why am I thinking about his mouth? Or how nicely he fills out his trousers?

  With effort, she pulled her gaze away from him and concentrated on dabbing soothing salve on the mare’s open sores. “Are the accommodations to your liking, Mr. MacDermott?”

  “Eamon, please.”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw him lean against the paddock fence and rest his forearms on the top rail. A boot-clad foot rested on one of the bottom rails. His hat shaded part of his face, but couldn’t hide his utterly kissable mouth.

  And she still shouldn’t be thinking about that, but she couldn’t seem to stop.

  I may be a widow, but I can still appreciate a fine-looking man. Nothing wrong with that.

  Theo tore her gaze away once again.

  “They’re quite comfortable. Thank you.” He said nothing more, but she could feel his steady gaze as she liberally applied more salve. After a while, he tilted his hat back on his head and asked, “What happened to her?”

  “Her former owner thought by whipping her, she’d go faster, have more strength and stamina, but Maizie here is an old girl. She just wants to rest. Her days of pulling the ice wagon are over.” She glanced at him and noticed how gray his eyes were, like smoke rising from a fire, and how intently they watched her. “She’s mine now. Once she heals, I’ll let her out in one of the pastures so she can run with the younger horses.” She put the lid on the small container of salve and slipped it into her pocket, then slowly worked the remainder of the cream into her hands, delighting in the subtle smell of roses. Giving one final pat to Maizie’s shoulder, she approached the fence where Eamon waited.

  And was shaken by a moment of utter doubt. Should she have hired this man? She didn’t know if she could trust her judgment anymore, considering what had happened with her last hired hand. Burl Stanton hid his true nature behind a charming smile, but showed it when he took a whip to Circe. Granny said Eamon was different. He needed Morning Mist Farms and the healing to be found here. She said he’d come a long way to find this place, even if he didn’t realize it, and if anyone would know that, it would be Granny. Theo never questioned the woman’s ability to simply know things.

  Besides, Theodosia Danforth never turned away a person—or an animal—in need. And she wouldn’t now but . . .

  She watched him warily, studied him actually, looking for a sign that she’d made the right decision and could trust this stranger she’d just met. If he felt uncomfortable with her scrutiny, he didn’t show it. Instead, he studied her just as carefully, and in the depths of his smoky gray eyes, she saw pain . . . and loneliness. Feelings she knew well. Her heart went out to him, and all doubt fled from her mind. He did need healing, as Granny said. From what, she didn’t know, but she would. Eventually.

  And he needed kindness. As much as she could give.

  A flush heated her face. He needed compassion, and she’d threatened him with her shotgun. The fact that it hadn’t been loaded didn’t make her feel any better.

  It hadn’t been kind. Not in the least.

  “I apologize about the shotgun. It wasn’t loaded. I just . . . though I would never harm another human being, Eamon, I do think I should be able to protect myself, my family, and my property.” She slipped through the space between the rails and came up beside him.

  He asked for no further explanation as he gave a slight nod. Theo didn’t know if that meant he accepted her apology or not. Maybe he decided it wasn’t his business. Taking a deep breath, she asked, “Are you ready to see the horses?”

  Again, he didn’t speak, just gave another nod.

  “Good. If you’ll follow me.”

  She grabbed her hat from one of the posts, plopped it on her head, and led the way. The dog, cats, and duck followed behind her in a single line.

  “I should introduce you,” she said as she led them down a grassy walkway between fences.

  “To whom?”

  “Why, the menagerie, of course.” She turned around and walked backward so she could see his face and gesture to the animals following her. “The dog is Happy although he answers to Hoppy as well.” The dog, hearing his names, leapt forward with a soft woof and butted her hand with his head, looking for affection. Theo rubbed her fingers through the dog’s silky fur as she spoke. “I’m sure you’ve noticed he’s only got three legs that work. Doesn’t slow him down any. The cat missing his ear is Vincent. The other one is Mama.” She grinned as she faced forward. “The duck is Mallory, who, I’m sure, cannot wait to leave us once his wing is healed. He’s not fond of humans at the moment.”

  “Why not?” His voice, a little closer now, sent a tiny shiver down her spine. Deep and rich, it had the most pleasing quality to it. She turned her head, intending to look behind her, only to see him right beside her.

  “He was shot by some rowdy boys who had no business being on my property. I don’t condone killing for killing’s sake. It’s one thing to hunt for food. It’s another thing entirely to kill because one is bored and has nothing better to do.” Even now, she had a problem keeping the anger from her voice and glanced at him to judge his reaction to both her words and her attitude. “Living creatures should not be used as target practice.”

  “I agree.” His gaze met hers. Direct. Disturbing—as if he could see inside her heart and knew all her secrets.

  She stumbled a bit beneath his intent stare. He grabbed her upper arm, his fingers strong yet gentle, and steadied her. The flicker of something when she’d touched him earlier returned, startling her. It made her feel breathless and giddy, like she’d run too far too fast.

  “Thank you,” she managed, though how, she didn’t know.

  Goodness gracious, Theo! Quit behaving like a ninny!

  Admonishing herself didn’t help—she still felt it . . . whatever it was. She couldn’t give this particular feeling a name no matter how hard she tried, though the giddiness remained, persistent and strange.

  She took a deep breath and looked up at his face—his utterly handsome face. If he felt anything, his features did not reveal his thoughts, but his hand remained on her arm for much longer than necessary.

  He gave a slight nod and released her from his grasp. With effort, Theo resumed walking along the grassy pathway, forcing herself from her momentary lapse into wherever she had gone.

  “What happened to the boys?”

  “What? Oh . . . I spoke to their fathers, and each of them worked on my farm for a week, from sunup to sundown.”

  “I’ll bet you gave them the most unpleasant of tasks.”

  “Of course. I wanted them to learn a lesson.” She chuckled, remembering the looks on their faces when she’d handed them their shovels and given them their chores. Mucking out the stable wasn’t a task anyone wanted to perform, but it was a necessity of life on the farm. “My barn and stable never looked so clean. Neither did the henhouse.”

  Theo led him along the grassy path and stopped at the first enclosure. Four horses, three due to foal soon, stood in the shade of a tree beside the small stream that cut through the pasture. Theo gave a short, sharp whistle. Almost as one, they raised their heads and raced to the fence, each one vying for her attention.

  “These are my babies.” She touched them one by one. “Athena is nine. Electra is eight. Circe and Galatea are both six and about to become mothers for the first time. This will be Electra’s second foal.”

  “Named after Greek mythology. Was that your idea?”

  “No, it was my husband, Henry’s, idea. He loved Greek mythology and read quite a bit on the subject.” She rubbed Electra’s nose as she spoke. “A very important part of your job here at Morning Mist will be keeping careful records for
each horse: dates of birth, sire and dam when we have a new birth, illnesses, and injuries. Their temperament and the like.” It didn’t occur to her to ask if he could read and write. She assumed he could since he knew the horses were named after Greek mythology.

  “You’ll also be recording time.” She pulled a stopwatch from her pocket and clicked it open, then closed it with a snap and handed it to him. “It’s important for those who are purchasing my horses to know how fast they run on a set course.”

  Eamon slipped the watch in his pocket. “Who rides when you’re recording their time?”

  “I don’t record the time. Usually, I can get one of the children to do that. I ride.”

  If he was surprised by her answer, he didn’t show that either. In fact, he didn’t seem to show any emotion, his features set, though he seemed friendly enough. She studied him once again, her eyes drifting over his face. There was something inherently gentle in his features despite his stoic demeanor, but for reasons she couldn’t explain, she got the distinct feeling he hadn’t been happy—or laughed—in a very long time.

  Theo blinked, tore her gaze away from him, and got back to the subject at hand. “And lastly, I keep track of who comes here to have their mares breed with my stallion and who purchases my horses outright. It’s important for me to know that my horses go to good homes. I won’t sell to just anyone. A buyer or a breeder must be recommended.” She rubbed her arm where his strong fingers had grasped her.

  What is wrong with me? It’s like I’ve never seen a handsome man before. Quit staring at him and get on with it!

  Once again, though it took effort on her part, she got her mind back on business, and firmly pushed away any thoughts that didn’t have to do with the horses or the farm. “I’ll show you where the records are later.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She didn’t correct him for calling her “ma’am” again. Instead, she led him farther down the fence and stopped at another enclosure. The dog, cats, and duck stopped as well. She didn’t need to whistle this time. The young horses were already lined up. Theo grinned and touched each one as she named them. “Echo, Ares, and Hestia are three years old. Castor and Pollux are twins out of Athena. They’re four. Daphne is five, and I think this year, I’ll breed her.” Her hand lingered on the side of Daphne’s long muzzle before she gave the horse one final pat.