Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
Fiona
O verhead, the sky was a pale gray, stretched thin like gossamer with the occasional sliver of blue trying to break through.
Somewhere in the distance, the faint clang of metal on metal echoed as stable hands worked around the facility.
Uncle Rory and Tommy were unloading Brannagh from the travel trailer, both men working in easy tandem.
My gelding was eager, his muscles taut with anticipation as he pawed at the ground, ears pricked forward.
I recognized the feeling.
The sheer exhilaration of knowing what was coming—the speed, the jumps, the rush of wind against my face.
If Brannagh was brimming with excited energy, I was on the opposite end of the spectrum right now.
This was the day I’d race against other riders—those who had far more experience than I—and I was suffering from low-level nausea.
I was hoping it would go away when I got in the saddle and my training and natural instincts would kick in.
I wrapped my arms around myself, not just for warmth, but because my mind kept drifting back to this morning’s breakfast, to my father’s clipped tone as I tried to sidestep his questions.
“Tell me more about your date with Brian,” he had commanded, barely looking up from his tea.
The chatter around the table silenced and everyone else looked to me.
I’d played with my spoon, tracing the edge of my saucer as I searched for a vague but potentially acceptable answer.
“It was fine.”
That wasn’t enough for my father.
He set his cup down with a soft clink, his gaze heavy and expectant.
“Did he treat ye well?”
“Aye,” I admitted, if the standard was not beating me and paying for my meal.
“Excellent,” he said, staring at me in triumph.
“What did ye talk about?”
And I knew in that minute, my dad was already well aware of what the conversation would’ve centered around.
My jaw was tight.
“He talked about marriage.”
His mouth curved into a satisfied smile that twisted my stomach.
“Did he now?”
The approval in his voice lit a fire in me.
“Da, I don’t want to marry Brian,” I said, my hands tightening around my napkin.
“I don’t even want to date him.”
I want to follow my heart.
He scoffed, pushing his chair back as he stood.
“Nonsense. He’s a perfect match and ye should be grateful he has an interest in ye.”
I glanced at Siobhan across the table, and her expression was so very sad for me.
“Ye’ll do what ye’re told,” my father added, causing my attention to slam back into him.
He didn’t look at me though and instead walked out of the dining room.
And that was the end of the conversation.
I exhaled sharply, forcing myself back into the present as I watched Rory check Brannagh’s tack while Tommy held the reins.
My chest ached with frustration.
My father wanted to use me to further his wealth.
Brian wanted to trap me, mold me into a quiet, well-behaved wife.
My eyes focused on Tommy.
One thing was clear last night—incredible kiss not withstanding—Tommy wanted me to fly.
I swallowed, my face heating at the memory of his lips on mine, the warmth of his breath spiced with whiskey, the steady grip of his hands.
I’d shocked myself—not just with the kiss, but with the feeling behind it.
I’d been so sure that if I ever rebelled, it would be in defiance, in anger.
But what scared me the most wasn’t that I kissed Tommy—it was that I wanted more.
More than just a fleeting moment.
More than just a kiss stolen in a dark barn.
If I was going to take my first true step away from my father’s rule, I realized now that it wouldn’t be through words.
It would be through Tommy.
Brannagh snorted, shifting under Tommy’s hold, and I pulled myself together.
“Ye ready, Fi?” Rory asked, assessing me as he adjusted my stirrups.
I nodded, shaking off the nerves as I approached.
Even though this wasn’t a formal race, I’d worn the silks and jods Kathleen had lovingly made for me.
They made me feel strong and capable.
“Aye.”
Tommy turned to me and bent slightly to offer me a leg up.
His hands were warm, strong, and after I lifted myself into the saddle, his fingers briefly tightened around my calf.
“Be bold,” he murmured so only I could hear.
“But careful at the same time.” A slow smile tugged at his lips.
“You’re going to do great.”
I stared at him for a moment, feeling the weight of his words settle into my chest.
Rory caught the exchange, and when I glanced his way, I saw a contemplative look pass over his face.
It made me wonder if he already knew—if he saw what was happening between Tommy and me before I fully realized it myself.
And what exactly was happening between us?
I looked down at Tommy, at the way he was still holding my calf, as if reluctant to let go, and knew the answer.
Yes.
And if I let it, this thing between us would change everything.
Rory cleared his throat, breaking the moment.
“All right then, let’s get ye warmed up.”
I rode Brannagh toward the start of the course, my pulse skittering as I sized up the other riders.
Five of them, all men, their expressions ranging from indifference to mild amusement.
I knew what they were thinking.
I could practically hear their thoughts.
She’s a girl.
She won’t last.
I adjusted my grip on the reins and set my jaw.
They were about to be very surprised.
?
The flag dropped, and Brannagh shot forward, his hooves hammering the turf.
The wind ripped past my face as we surged ahead, the pounding of hooves and the heavy breath of the horses filling my ears.
The first few jumps came fast, but Brannagh cleared them with ease, his muscles coiling and stretching beneath me like a tightly wound spring.
I was in fourth place, but I wasn’t worried.
Steeplechase wasn’t about being reckless—it was about strategy.
The rider ahead of me was pushing too hard, forcing his horse into jumps without giving him a chance to adjust.
I bide my time, letting them burn out.
One by one, I gained ground.
The final stretch loomed ahead, the last jump taller than the rest.
My legs tightened, my hands steady on the reins.
Just as I pushed Brannagh forward, a sharp cry split the air.
One of the horses balked.
The rider was thrown.
I looked back, saw his body hit the ground hard, but there was no time to stop.
No time to hesitate.
Brannagh soared over the final fence, his hooves landing cleanly, and I pushed him through the finish line, coming in third.
Standing in my stirrups as Brannagh slowed to a canter, I pumped my fist in the air and screamed out my joy.
Another one of the riders came breezing past me, looking over his shoulder with appreciation.
“Good run,” he said.
“Fancy a pint to celebrate?”
I laughed at the offer, the flirtation, and shook my head.
“Sorry.” I patted Brannagh’s neck.
“Only guy I’m interested in right now.”
Which was a lie.
“Can’t blame a lad for trying,” he called out.
I was grinning ear to ear when I reached Tommy who stepped up to take Brannagh’s reins, his eyes shining with something between pride and mischief.
“Damn,” he murmured, walking beside me as I caught my breath.
“You were incredible.”
A thrill shot through me, but I kept my expression neutral.
“Aye, well, third isn’t first.”
“First or not, you rode the hell out of that course.”
I smiled, the heat in my cheeks unrelated to the race.
Before I could say more, I noticed Rory by the fallen rider, his face grim as he spoke with the others.
Tommy nodded toward them.
“Looks bad.”
I swung down from Brannagh, my legs still shaking slightly as I handed the reins to Tommy.
“Aye. Let’s go see.”
When we reached them, Rory turned to us, his expression serious.
“Broken collarbone. We’re takin’ him to the hospital.”
Tommy straightened.
“You need me to drive the trailer back?”
Rory nodded, tossing him the keys.
“Aye. And get Fiona home safely.” Eyeballing Tommy for a beat too long, the warning clear.
Tommy grinned.
“Always.”
Then Rory did something unexpected—he looked between the two of us and said, “Come to dinner tonight. Kathleen’ll cook somethin’ up.”
I blinked, surprised, but Tommy recovered first.
“We’d love to.”
Rory gave us one last knowing glance before walking off.
I exhaled, turning to Tommy.
Was he thinking what I was thinking?
That Rory was giving us opportunities to be together?
Was he possibly helping me break out from under my father’s thumb?
Tommy smirked, those blue eyes sparkling even though the sky was fully overcast.
“Looks like we’ve got a date tonight, darlin’.”
I rolled my eyes but felt a flutter in my chest that had nothing to do with the race.
And everything with the man that was responsible for all sorts of rebellious thoughts running through my mind.