Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
Fiona
I fastened the delicate gold clasp of my necklace, letting the horseshoe pendant rest just above the neckline of my powder-blue wrap dress.
I frowned at my reflection in the mirror, noting the cinched waist made the outfit a little sexier than I had hoped, but my mam picked it out for me and she was obviously as invested in this courtship as my father.
She also picked out the strappy heels and ordered me to be wise with my makeup.
Without further guidance, I chose to believe she thought I should be frugal with it and merely swiped on a thin layer of mascara, although I suspected she wanted me to be heavier with it.
On the bed, Siobhan lay sprawled on her stomach, her feet kicking idly in the air as she studied me.
“Ye look grand, Fi,” she said, her green eyes bright with excitement to see me going on a date.
“But yer face is tragic.”
I sighed, adjusting my necklace, then turned from the mirror to face her.
“That’s because I feel tragic. I don’t want to go.”
Siobhan rolled onto her back, laughing.
“Oh, we all know that, but Da wants ye to.” She propped herself up on her elbows, smirking.
“At least Brian’s rich and handsome. Could be worse. Ye could be matchin’ with some daft eejit with bad teeth.”
I scoffed, shaking my head.
“Brian’s the very definition of a daft eejit.”
“I’d be more interested in talkin’ about the Yank, to be honest.”
I busied myself with smoothing the skirt of my dress, hoping she wouldn’t notice my slight jerk at the mention of Tommy.
“What about him?” I asked casually, even though my pulse had kicked up.
“Oh, come on, Fi,” she said, sitting up to stare at me pointedly.
“I saw him today workin’ with one of the horses. Jaysus, he’s somethin’ else.” Her cheeks pinkened.
“He’s so tall, and those muscles, and have ye noticed the way he walks? Like he owns every bit of ground he steps on.”
I had noticed.
Too much, if I was being honest.
And it wasn’t just how he looked.
It was the way he carried himself, the easy confidence, the way he’d flirted shamelessly with me all day, the way he’d watched me as I rode the course, with admiration, not condescension.
I thought back to after my run, when I’d dismounted breathless, my heart still racing from the thrill of flying over those jumps.
Tommy had walked back to the barn with me, taking the reins from my hands as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Without a word, he’d started untacking Brannagh, his strong hands moving with ease, loosening the girth, slipping the saddle free.
I’d gone to fetch the grain, my head still spinning from the adrenaline, and when I returned, he’d leaned casually against the stall door, arms crossed, watching me with a look that sent a delicious shiver down my spine.
Those full lips tipped at the corners with appreciation as he watched me approach.
I braced for some heavy-duty flirting that I knew would be coming, and God help me, I wanted it.
Instead, his expression turned serious.
“Blow off your date tonight and go out with me.”
“What?” I gasped, the notion absolutely ridiculous.
“I hardly know ye.”
“Which is why you should go out with me so you can get to know me better,” he replied with a face-splitting grin.
“We can go to a pub—Rory said his girlfriend Kathleen owns one. We’ll go drink a few pints and you’ll find out I’m even more charming than you had originally suspected.”
At that moment, I would have given anything to be someone else.
Not Fiona Conlan, subject to the commands of the patriarch of my family, but just a girl who could follow her own heart.
“I can’t,” I said, lifting my chin and making sure my tone was light and breezy.
“I can’t date the hired hands.”
It was meant to be a rebuff.
Something to put him in his place, even if it wasn’t true.
I had to discourage him from this silliness because my fate had already been decided by my father.
He stared at me for a long, thoughtful moment, as if trying to unravel all the complexities standing between us.
Instead, he inclined his head.
“Enjoy your date,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement.
He moved past me, our shoulders nearly brushing, and I shivered once again at his next words.
“But not too much.”
I didn’t know what he had meant by that, and the thought followed me the rest of the day.
I’d known the man for a day and yet it almost seemed…
proprietary.
Siobhan’s giggle pulled me back to the present.
“Yer smilin’,” she said, sliding to the edge of my bed.
“Thinkin’ about him, are ye?”
I scowled, grabbing my purse.
“I don’t know what yer talkin’ about.”
Siobhan only laughed harder, but before she could tease me further, my mother appeared in the doorway, a warm but firm expression on her face.
“Brian’s downstairs, love.”
The dread in my stomach coiled tighter.
Siobhan smirked, hopping off the bed and flouncing past me.
“Have fun now.”
I barely held back an eye roll.
Downstairs, Brian Kavanagh stood in the entryway, looking every bit the part of a polished young gentleman.
His suit was well-tailored, his dark hair combed neatly into place, his shoes gleaming.
Objectively, he was very handsome.
But compared to Tommy Blackburn with his dark hair, intense denim-colored eyes and a clear penchant for causing trouble?
Not even close.
I forced a polite smile as he reached for my hand, bringing it briefly to his lips before dropping it.
“Ye look beautiful, Fiona.”
“Thank ye,” I murmured, casting a glance at my father, who stood watching with sharp approval.
“Make the most of the night,” Da said, his words a quiet warning, and I’m not sure exactly what he meant by that.
Does he just want me to do my best or does he want me to seduce the man?
I bit back the urge to snap something rude and instead let Brian guide me out the door and toward his car—a sleek black Porsche, its polished chrome gleaming under the fading evening light.
Of course, he’d have the flashiest car in the county.
As we pulled onto the road, Brian launched straight into conversation—except it wasn’t a conversation at all.
It was a monologue.
I listened as he waxed poetic about his latest business ventures, his travels to England last month, the three racehorses his father had just acquired.
He spoke of things with such certainty, with such an air of entitlement, as if he expected the world to bend at his feet simply because he willed it so.
I nodded where appropriate, gave the occasional murmur of acknowledgment and let my mind drift to a cocky American who yelled with excitement as I cleared the last jump on the course today.
We arrived at a fine restaurant in town—one of those dimly lit, upscale places where the waiters wore waistcoats and the cutlery was polished to a blinding shine.
Brian ordered a whiskey before I even had a chance to glance at the menu.
He didn’t ask if I wanted a drink, and I was thinking tonight might be the best time to get drunk.
Even though the drinking age was eighteen and I wasn’t quite there yet, those laws were pretty lax.
Instead, I sipped at my water and Brian continued talking.
And talking.
And talking.
He ordered my meal for me and kept talking.
Finally, he must have noticed my silence, because he tilted his head and asked, “So, what did ye do today?”
His attention had me straightening in my chair and I knew the best course—the one my father expected—was to say something that would make me more appealing.
Instead, I hesitated only a second before answering.
“Ran steeplechase on my horse Brannagh.”
Brian blinked in shock.
He blinked again, letting it sink in.
It was such a risk to tell him what I did because if word ever got back to my father, I’d be in big trouble and so would Rory.
But I had the measure of a man such as Brian Kavanagh and I knew he’d never believe it.
I was validated when he laughed sharply, wagging his finger at me playfully.
“As if,” he said, shaking his head.
“Come on now, what’d ye really do?”
There’s no telling where the sudden burst of rebellion came from, but I sat up ramrod straight in my chair.
“I told ye. I ran steeplechase.”
He scoffed, waving a dismissive hand.
“Everyone knows women shouldn’t be doin’ that. Too dangerous.”
My hands curled into fists under the table.
“And why’s that?”
Brian hesitated, then shrugged.
“Ye could get hurt.”
“So what?”
He frowned, clearly confused by my lack of agreement.
“Well, I wouldn’t let my daughters or my wife do anythin’ so reckless.”
I inhaled sharply, preparing to tear into him, but then he leaned forward, his tone shifting.
“Ye know our parents want us to marry, right?”
I froze.
Was he really going there so quickly?
Brian gave me an easy smile, settling back in his seat.
“It’s a good match, Fi. Glenhaven and Kavanagh Stud—together, we’d be unstoppable. Think about the legacy we’d build. The bloodlines, the success.” He sat back, confident.
“I imagine it won’t take long before we’re married because I can sense we have a good connection. We’ll have a good life together. A lovely home, lots of kids.”
My mind wandered again.
Tommy.
The way he’d looked at me today, full of admiration, not dismissal.
The way he’d celebrated my run, called me fearless.
Brian’s voice cut back in.
“What do ye think? How many kids do ye want?”
I blinked.
“What?”
He grinned.
“I was askin’ how many kids ye want. I’m thinkin’ three.”
At this point, I decided to go with it and see just how insane the conversation could turn.
I batted my eyes at him.
“I was thinkin’ seven. Maybe eight. I like even numbers.”
Brian looked momentarily startled, but then nodded, as if genuinely considering it.
“Seven’s a lot, but I think we could manage.”
I stifled a groan.
He truly didn’t get it.
“I mean,” he continued as our dinner plates were delivered, “if ye want seven, that’s a lot of work on ye.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“I have the easier part, if ye know what I mean. But anyway, we’d have to have a fairly large home. Maybe we can move into Conlan Manor at Glenhaven. It’s plenty big…”
I stared at him, watching his mouth move, but I stopped hearing the words.
It was amazing that he could talk and eat at the same time, barely pausing in between bites.
Once again, I let my mind drift.
It immediately filled with images of the dark-haired lad from America, but I even managed to push those aside for a tiny bit and wondered what tomorrow would be like running Brannagh at Kildare.
?
The ride home was quieter and I’m guessing Brian ran out of things to say when I barely engaged with him.
I wasn’t impressed with a single thing he told me, and his mood seemed a bit duller by the time we pulled into Glenhaven Estate.
He slowed his Porsche on the gravel road that wound past pastures and barns.
I was exhausted from the evening and had let my head rest against the cool pane of the passenger window.
As we neared the training center, movement caught my eye and I spotted Tommy sitting on one of the railings, a bottle of what looked to be whiskey in his hand.
He was illuminated by the outdoor lights over the smaller lunging ring, but his face was slightly shadowed.
I couldn’t see him clearly, but I sat up straighter as we slowly passed him, my neck twisting to look back his way.
My lips curved upward when he lifted the bottle as if in silent invitation to join him.
The air left my lungs.
I turned back in the seat, watching as my home drew nearer.
The lights were on in my father’s study and there was no doubt he would be waiting up for me.
It was so hard to resist the urge to bolt inside, but I politely waited for Brian to walk me toward the door.
My nose wrinkled as he leaned in, intent on kissing me, but I turned my head swiftly.
His lips met my cheek and when he pulled back, he looked confused for a moment but recovered quickly.
“Let’s do this again soon, yeah?”
I forced a smile.
“I’ll check me calendar.”
“Do that,” he said, taking a few steps back.
“At the least, we’ll spend time together at the summer festival next week, yeah?”
No.
No.
No.
No.
I lifted my hand in a polite farewell.
And with that, I turned, stepping inside, my heart already somewhere else entirely.
As expected, my da was waiting in the foyer, his hands tucked into the pockets of his lounging jacket tied around his waist.
“Well?” he drawled.
“It was a lovely evening,” I said, never having told a more blatant lie to my father.
“Good,” he said with a nod.
“I’m going to bed. Make sure to turn out the lights on yer way up.”
“Yes, Da,” I said demurely and watched him ascend the stairs as I leaned back against the door.
I waited, patiently counting to sixty twice after I heard his bedroom door close.
And quietly…
so very quietly, I pushed off the door and crept through the kitchen.
In the mudroom, I toed off my heels and jammed my stocking feet into my wellies.
A mouse was never quieter when I snuck out the side door and into the night.