Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
Fiona
S aturday mornings at Glenhaven always followed the same rhythm.
Mam cooked a huge Irish breakfast complete with eggs, rashers, black pudding, fried tomatoes, beans and soda bread.
She moved between the stove and the table, trying to get us all fed, while Paddy and Siobhan traded barbs, their laughter bouncing off the stone walls.
I sat at my usual place, absentmindedly picking at my toast slathered in jam, lost in my own world.
Tomorrow, I’d be at Kildare, riding Brannagh on a real steeplechase course, and the thought filled me with a rare and secret excitement.
I could already feel the rush of wind against my face, the thunder of hooves beneath me, the exhilarating freedom of soaring over fences and most importantly, the competition against other riders.
I tried to run our own steeplechase course at Glenhaven as much as I could without Da knowing, but to actually train against others was beyond my wildest dreams.
My da’s voice cut through my thoughts like a blade.
“What time is Brian picking ye up this evening?”
I blinked, looked up to find him glaring at me over the top of his newspaper, his dark gaze expectant.
For a second, I struggled to pull myself from my daydream and into the cold reality of my situation.
“Seven,” I muttered, dropping my toast onto my plate.
I reached for my tea, hoping it would settle my stomach.
“Make a good impression,” he said, his voice flat, as if it was a formality and not a command.
He returned to reading his paper without waiting for me to acknowledge my obedience.
Siobhan kicked me under the table, her expression rife with mischief.
“She doesn’t need to lift a finger, Da. Sure, Brian already reckons she’s the finest girl in all of Tipperary.”
My father ignored us and I shot her a withering look while Paddy snickered.
Mam, who had finally taken her seat to join us, leveled us with a sharp glance.
“Eat yer breakfast, the lot of ye.”
I swallowed my irritation along with the rest of my tea, then stood and began clearing the table.
“I’m finished so I’ll start on the dishes.”
Anything to get away from the potential for my father to put more pressure on me.
I felt the crushing weight of his expectations and knew I was one step closer toward the future my da had chosen for me.
It was almost too depressing to ponder so I let my mind drift back to horses and riding the wind, which was about the only thing I had to look forward to in my immediate future.
I breezed through cleaning the kitchen while everyone else stayed at the table, and as soon as I was done, I jetted for the door.
“I’m off to give Uncle Rory a hand today.”
“Take yer mac with ye,” my mother called out.
“They’re sayin’ there’ll be rain before the day’s out.”
That was good to know so I grabbed my raincoat, jammed my feet into my wellies and headed out into the chilly morning.
The sky was a sullen gray, thick with low clouds that pressed down over the valley.
The breeze carried the scent of damp earth and distant precipitation, and though it wasn’t raining yet, I could feel the promise of it in the air.
I’d dressed in my usual riding attire—a thick wool sweater in deep green tucked into a pair of snug beige jodhpurs.
I carried my well-worn riding boots, scuffed but sturdy under my arm as my wellies crunched against the gravel path to Rory’s side of the farm.
My father didn’t care what Siobhan and I did with our Saturdays.
As girls, we were of no consequence to him as far as the business went.
He was happy to have us both accomplished horsewomen, because we were Conlans, but he couldn’t care less if we stayed inside sewing or sat in a mud puddle.
Paddy would be expected to stay by Da’s side today as he made his rounds.
My father had managers who oversaw every aspect of the breeding portion of the farm and he received updates from them a few times a week.
This morning he’d probably start at the stallion barn, checking on the sires, making sure they were in peak condition for their covering duties.
Then he’d move on to the broodmare pastures, consulting with the vet or breeding manager about the mares ready to be cycled back in.
If a mare was due to be covered, he’d sometimes supervise, ensuring the pairing was handled efficiently.
By midday, he’d be reviewing mating records, yearling development, and sales plans, deciding which foals would stay and which might be sold off.
There was always a business meeting to be had—whether with trainers, investors or buyers interested in securing a Glenhaven-bred horse.
And if he wasn’t talking business, he was checking on fencing, pasture rotations or the general upkeep of the barns.
Breeding was a game of patience, precision and prestige, and my father ran it all with an iron will, ensuring Glenhaven remained the finest in Ireland.
For that, he had my utmost respect and his legacy made me proud to be a Conlan.
Not that I would ever have any piece of it.
I could have tagged along with my father, standing in the background and watching him do what he does best but ten out of ten days, I’d rather hang with Rory at the training center.
Mornings for my uncle started early, before any potential sun had fully burned through the mist, with him out on the gallops, watching the young horses go through their paces.
He had keen eyes and a nose for sniffing out promise.
He called instructions to the riders and made sharp assessments of which ones had a shot and which needed more time.
He worked alongside the head trainer, discussing conditioning plans, adjusting feed regimens, and deciding which horses were ready to move from basic fitness work to more serious race prep.
By mid-morning, he’d be in the steeplechase fields, setting up courses or watching a handful of jumpers test their form over fences, barking out encouragement or muttering under his breath when something wasn’t quite right.
Afternoons were spent overseeing the schooling barn, checking in on horses recovering from injury or being retrained after poor starts to their careers.
He’d take meetings with owners who had sent their horse stock to Glenhaven, giving them updates with his usual blunt but fair assessments.
If a horse needed a stronger hand, he’d be the one to get in the saddle, working them until they got it right.
And in between all that, he’d somehow find time to pull me aside for a stolen moment of training, sneaking me onto the steeplechase course when no one was looking.
No matter how busy he was, Rory always made time for me—because he knew I wanted more than just a life of standing politely beside some man my father chose for me.
As I neared the main training barn, I heard voices—Rory’s amused laughter and another voice that had a low rumble to it.
I stepped inside and stopped short.
Standing beside Rory was a man I didn’t recognize.
He was young—maybe a little older than me and boy, was he tall.
And, well…
built.
Broad shoulders, wide chest and black-as-midnight hair that curled just slightly at the ends.
His face was all sharp angles and arrogance, his mouth full, and his blue eyes—Christ, his blue eyes—were full of mischief as they landed on me.
For a moment, I just stood there, taking him in.
And he stared right back at me.
I’d seen plenty of handsome men before.
Brian was one such fella, in that polished, well-bred way.
Some of the trainers had a roguish charm.
But this one…
this one was different.
There was something about him, something unrefined and restless, maybe even a bit dangerous.
You put it all together and God help me, it was simply too compelling.
Rory smirked, clearly catching the way I was staring, and decided to take pity on me.
“Fiona, this is Tommy Blackburn from America. Tommy, this is my niece, Fiona Conlan.”
It hit me.
The American who had come to stay the summer.
Tommy’s smirk widened, and he tipped an imaginary hat at me.
“Pleasure to meet you, darlin’.”
I bristled.
Darlin’ ?
Although admittedly, his accent was charming.
Rory chuckled.
“Fi, why don’t ye show Tommy around? Get him acquainted with the place.”
“Oh, but…” I looked over my shoulder, through the open barn doors and even tossed a thumb that way.
“I should… I mean, I need to…”
Rory just stared at me, letting me work through the stammer, but my words dried up.
My uncle grinned, pulling off his work gloves.
“Show the lad around. We’ve got him set up in one of the old steadings and I’ll take him over there later.”
“I will, yeah,” I managed to say.
Rory clapped Tommy on the shoulder.
“Enjoy yer time because this afternoon, we put ye to work.”
“Yes, sir,” Tommy replied with an incline of his head.
Rory shot me a wink and brushed past us, and just like that, I was left alone with the cocky American.
“The old steadings?” Tommy asked, and I jolted because he was now standing very close to me.
I took a small step back.
“They’re a group of cottages that house some of the pass-through workers. They’re small and basic, but a solid roof over yer head.” I observed him closely, wondering what type of lodging this visitor was used to.
The American looked as if he belonged on a farm—just not ours.
Not anywhere around here.
His shirt was too crisp, his boots too fine, and he didn’t carry himself like a man used to hard labor.
Oh, I had no doubt he’d worked before—his forearms, bared by the rolled sleeves, had the lean muscle of someone who knew his way around a horse—but he wasn’t hardened by it.
And the leather of his belt and boots?
Far too new.
Money.
That’s what he smelled of, even above the faint scent of horse and hay.
He didn’t have to be here—he was here because someone made him.
“Where are ye from, anyway?”
“Kentucky,” he replied, digging his thumbs into his front pockets and rocking on his heels.
“Small town called Shelbyville.”
“Ye don’t have the look of a small-town lad,” I pointed out shrewdly, looking him over him one more time.
When they landed on his face, I found him grinning at me.
“Like what you see, darlin’?”
My face flamed hot with embarrassment.
“No! I merely noticed ye look like ye come from money. But here ye are staying in the old steadings and working for Rory, and he’s not an easy taskmaster.”
Tommy to the left to look at the open barn doors and he tipped his head that way.
“Aren’t you supposed to be showing me around?”
“Aye,” I replied and turned my back on him, making my way out onto the gravel path.
Tommy scrambled to catch up.
“Do ye know horses?”
“I do. My family breeds and trains American Saddlebreds. We’re the largest such farm in the US.”
My jaw sagged a little at this revelation because the United States was huge.
That’s a lot different from us Conlans being one of the biggest horse breeding and training operations in little old Ireland.
I cleared my throat to hide my shock.
“A lovely horse to be sure,” I managed to say.
We walked through the training grounds first, me pointing out the gallops, the different outdoor tracks, and the carefully planned exercise routines Rory had developed for the young thoroughbreds.
Tommy, for his part, seemed only mildly interested in the horses and far more interested in talking about me.
“Have you ever been to the States?” he asked.
“Aye.” We stopped at one of the pasture fences where ye could see Conlan Manor in the distance, although I didn’t point it out as being my home.
“My da took the entire family over to Florida a few years ago to look at some horses.”
Tommy scoffed.
“Should’ve gone to Kentucky. No better thoroughbreds around.”
I truly liked the pride in his voice and with a slight chuckle, reassured him, “Oh, trust me… my da knows Kentucky is where it’s at. In fact, I think he has plans to open a sister farm there one day.”
“There are a few Irish breeding programs doing that same thing,” Tommy replied, and I wasn’t surprised he knew something about that, even though he dealt in a different breed.
The horsing community was tight, no matter what you rode.
“So, you lot don’t have saddlebreds over here?” he asked, walking a little too close.
“Not so much. We don’t find them to be very useful.”
He didn’t rise to the bait over my slight dig at his breed.
I only did it to see if he was the type to anger or to laugh it off.
He did neither, angling to face me.
“You ride?”
“Of course,” I said, as if that was a ludicrous question.
“I’m good, if not better than ye. Been in a saddle since I could walk.”
“Want to wager on that?” The clear mischief in his response did not put me off.
I tipped my head.
“Like what?”
“A race around the track.”
“And if ye win?”
“A kiss,” he replied, brash as could be and not a lick of shame on his pretty face.
I wrinkled my nose in a grand display of disgust.
“I think I’d rather kiss a pig.”
He was completely forward and it was quite unseemly, but I didn’t take him further to task because he tipped his head back and laughed with pure delight.
When his blue eyes landed back on mine, he winked.
“I kiss way better than a pig, trust me on that.”
I ignored the tiny shiver that went up my spine as I spent only two seconds imagining such a kiss.
Such thoughts were not banished by my own fortitude but rather a change in subject.
“Do you do any equine sports?” he asked.
“Steeplechase,” I replied without thought, although I had not technically run an actual race.
“I mean… I’m training for that with Rory.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly, holding my gaze.
“Now that’s something I’d like to see.”
I ignored the heat that flared in my chest because I wasn’t sure if he meant he’d like to see steeplechase in general, or me on a horse racing and jumping obstacles.
The fact I even wondered about it had me continuing our walk and I took the moment to point out Conlan Manor in the distance.
“That’s my home over there. Rory has a cottage near the training center and all those barns to the east are the breeding portion of Glenhaven.”
“It’s beautiful,” Tommy murmured.
While the sky was still overcast, the morning mist had evaporated, and I always thought that the green of the pastures and hills seemed more vibrant under dark skies than full sunlight.
“Reminds me of Kentucky.”
“How so?” I asked.
“Green rolling hills. Nothing prettier, except maybe your eyes.”
I scoffed and ignored his flirting.
When we reached the breeding barns, I pointed to the different buildings, explaining the operation.
“This is where the stallions are kept. The broodmares are housed farther down, closer to the foaling barns.”
Tommy nodded, clearly impressed.
“It’s a hell of a setup. Similar to how we have things at Blackburn, but I’m sure I’m going to learn a thing or two.”
I let pride get the better of me.
“Glenhaven is one of the top thoroughbred farms in Ireland. I sure hope ye can learn a thing or two.”
He studied my face thoughtfully.
“The lady is displeased that I’m not more awed by the operation here. But how can you expect me to be when I’m so dazzled by your beauty, I can’t really see anything else?”
“Jaysus.” I snorted.
“Did ye rehearse that in the mirror? If that’s yer best attempt at charm, ye might want to give it another go.”
The arrogant bastard smiled bigger, unperturbed.
I opened my mouth to really lay into him because his audacity at flirting with me was so…
so…
well, it wasn’t working.
That’s for sure.
“Fiona.”
I cringed, my shoulder hunching inward as I heard my father’s voice, and I was dismayed to see that Tommy noted my reaction.
His frown quickly smoothed as we turned to face Seamus Conlan bearing down on us across a gravel parking lot outside the broodmare barn where we’d been talking.
My father approached, glancing to Tommy with a flicker of curiosity before settling on me.
“Fiona,” he said, his tone clipped.
“What are ye doing?”
I straightened my spine, clasped my hands in front of me and called upon every reserve of etiquette I had left.
“Uncle Rory asked me to give Mr. Blackburn a tour. He’s going to be staying at Glenhaven for the summer. Father… let me introduce ye to Tommy Blackburn of Blackburn Farms in Shelbyville, Kentucky.” I turned to look at Tommy.
“My father, Seamus Conlan.”
Tommy squared his shoulders and offered his hand, which my father took because he’s a business professional.
“Blackburn?” my father said with a frown.
“I know a lot of people in Kentucky, but I don’t recognize yer name.”
“We breed the American Saddlebred, sir,” Tommy said as they shook.
Upon hearing that piece of information though—that the Blackburns had nothing to do with thoroughbreds—he dismissed Tommy as uninteresting and pulled his hand away.
Turning to me, he stared pointedly.
“Yer fiancé will be here at seven. Be ready.”
My jaw locked so hard, I was afraid my teeth would crack.
“He’s not my fiancé.”
“He’s as good as,” my da replied before he turned and walked away.
I stared after him, frozen in both rage and disbelief that my father would say such a thing.
Sure, I’m playing his game by agreeing to go out with Brian, mainly to keep the peace, but I have no intention of marrying that man.
Tommy whistled low and I twisted my neck to look at him warily.
“Well now,” he said with brows furrowed.
“That was… weird.”
I let out a slow breath, leveling the glare I’d had pinned on my father to Tommy.
“Weird doesn’t even begin to describe it,” I muttered.
“So, you’re getting married, huh?” His head tilted and as if by divine planning, there was a break in the clouds.
The sun came out and although I knew it wouldn’t last long, I closed my eyes and tipped my head back to let the warmth caress my face.
I prayed for patience with my father and to give me the strength to stand up to him when the time was right.
When I opened them again, I looked at Tommy.
“No, I’m not getting married. I’m being forced to go on a date with someone my father wants me to marry. Big difference.”
Tommy stared at me, almost transfixed.
I felt the intensity of it so keenly, I subconsciously rubbed at my face, thinking I had dirt on it.
“What?”
His lips quirked upward, but he just stared at me.
“What are ye lookin’ at?” I rubbed at my cheek.
“Your eyes,” he said, bending slightly because he was quite a bit taller than me.
He stared at me even harder.
“I think they might be the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. They put the green pastures here in Ireland and back home in Kentucky to shame.”
My jaw dropped slightly and I couldn’t find it to dismiss such garbage, because…
the way he looked at me told me he wasn’t just spouting off.
He believed what he just said.
“Yer eyes are okay too,” I muttered, because if mine rivaled the verdant grass, his rivaled that peek of blue sky we can see through the parted clouds.
He grinned at me.
“I’m relieved to know you’re not getting married.”
“Why would ye care?” I asked, turning to walk back to the training center.
I was ready to drop off this impossibly gorgeous and all too charming rogue of a man and be done with his platitudes.
Tommy looked at me playfully.
“Want me to take you away from here and marry you to save you from Brian?”
I huffed a laugh despite myself.
“Ah, go way with ye. I’ll sort meself, thanks.”
He chuckled.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Tommy chatted about Blackburn Farms as we made our way back to Rory, but I couldn’t help but steal glances at him.
I had a feeling Tommy Blackburn was going to be nothing but trouble.
And in my crazy, disordered world where I didn’t feel like I had control over anything, trouble didn’t seem like such a bad thing.