Chapter Twenty

Savie

Mel: Declan’s car won’t start. It’ll be several hours before Caris can get away. Do you think Ronan will see you safely into town?

No. Fucking. Way.

Savie: Your paycheck signer no longer rides gigantic equines down the road at the expense of her own safety and sanity.

This sitcom version of Murphy’s Law is going to snake up and bite me in the ass. I stare at my suitcases, the thought of leaving them behind tugging at my heart. It aches. For Ronan and what will never be but also for what I’ve been through over the past few days. I’ve squeezed more life into the time I’ve spent in Wintervale than I have in L.A. since I moved there.

Nudging the expensive case with my foot, I think through my options. I’m sure Caris will have them shipped. For some reason, I know I can trust the older woman. She’s a true friend with a heart of gold, and I’ll make sure she’s compensated for her time and trouble.

After what I saw last night prior to retiring for the evening, I’m not willing to spend another hour in this cottage with him. I’m so pissed that I allowed him to pull the wool over my eyes.

I groan, immediately regretting my choice of euphemism because my mind drifts to the poor, gentle sheep that lost its life at the hands of Ronan O’Farrell and his evil actions based on some paganism that should have died around the time of Christ’s birth.

The liquid black eyes and soft bleats of the gentle animal are going to haunt me for the rest of my days. I struggled to fall asleep last night because of what I witnessed. I don’t even want to consider the curvaceous naked body of the flame-haired woman that offered herself to Ronan right alongside whatever fake idol they were both worshiping with their animal sacrifices.

It sickens me. I can’t believe I was so bowled over by a poser, thinking his beliefs were natural and beautiful.

He’s really no different than a yellow robe wearing, shaved head sporting Hare Krishna handing out flyers at the airport.

A flash of heat creeps into my face at my own expense, and I walk over to the window so I can slide it open a crack. A woman’s voice reaches my ears, and I stop in my tracks, straining them so I can make out her words. Rage quickly replaces the mild irritation I’d whipped up inside myself because I can’t believe the woman he fucked out in the woods last night slept here and now stands right outside my window.

“I still don’t understand why we can’t be together,” she whines, throwing her arms around Ronan’s neck and pressing her full breasts to his chest. “’Tis what everyone expects, Ronan. ‘Tis what yer ma and da would ‘av wanted.”

I stare in rapt fascination as he twists away from her.

“Nay.” His voice turns uneven and gritty. I can’t tell if it’s because of anger or desire. “’Tis dead, Mary. The past is dead and buried and nothin’ is goin’ to be served by talkin’ it to death. ‘Tis already been talked into the ground. Our interludes were born of youth and blossomed into a twin ritual practice that worked for us both. ‘Tis over now.”

For a long moment, the gorgeous woman searches his face, as if weighing her options. If I tiptoed down there, I’d advise her not to engage him any further. He’s wearing a look that I’ve never seen on his face before. It’s as if he’s had enough and one more comment is going to cause him to snap and turn into a towering inferno of annoyance.

Finally, she nods. “Then I’ll see yer when next yer come to visit Caris at the inn. We’ll ‘av a pint together, we will.”

She turns and walks away, out of my line of sight. I fist my hands at my sides because they itch to run outside and slap him. But what’s the purpose in that? He’s already proven he doesn’t listen and doesn’t care about anyone’s feelings but his own. I’m so over it. All I want is to get the hell out of this godforsaken place.

And the only way out of here is on horseback. But not with him.

I groan and slip out the side door of Ronan’s cottage before he can notice me. Hoping I remember how to get the bridle on Mateo, I grab it from its wooden peg on the side of the interior shed door. He nickers and snorts a huge puff of white steam from his massive nostrils. Fear threatens to overcome me, and I double over to reclaim my breath. I’ve never ridden a horse unsupervised before, and this one’s so damn tall.

“Dammit, I wish you were a pony,” I croon, staring deep into his glassy eyes. “A Shetland pony. Please, Mateo. Please give me some kind of a sign that you won’t kill me. At least not intentionally.”

He throws his head and stamps a huge hoof, and I guess that’s the only positive affirmation I’ll receive from this giant stallion. When I walk over, he puts his head in my hands, and I’m able to slip the bridle over his ears and the bit between his teeth. Thank God Ronan has the bridle set for him and there’s nothing else I have to do except deal with the saddle. I pick it up and nearly fall backward from the weight. No way can I lift it on top of the horse. Because I have no choice, I opt to go without and pray that my hours of yoga and Pilates won’t fail me now. My core needs to be as strong as steel to make it the hour into town riding on the back of this horse without the stirrups and support of a leather saddle.

Baaa

My heart squeezes as I look into the face of a sheep, wondering if the one sacrificed was his or her sibling. “Sorry, little one,” I whisper before fleeing the horrid place.

I open the stall door and lead him outside. The other day, I spotted a split rail fence alongside the cottage that served as a paddock for the animals on Ronan’s property. Although rickety, I think it will be able to support the body weight of one woman needing to launch herself over Mateo’s back.

I stand on the top rail and Mateo shifts on my first attempt, and I about end up on my face in a dirt pile. At least I hope it’s dirt. After soothing him with my voice and hands, he stands still enough for me to swing my leg over him. I urge him into a walk and smile when I can stay on. Gripping my legs tightly to his flanks causes him to walk faster, so I try to be as loose as possible. Even though walking into town is going to take longer than trotting or cantering, I’m not sure I’m a talented enough equestrian to do either of the faster gaits.

Proud of myself, I clutch the reins in one hand and the strap to my purse in the other. I never should have doubted myself. I’m going to make it into town, no problem. After about a half hour, my butt starts to ache, and I shift as much as I can without falling off. The heat coming from Mateo’s huge body keeps me warm and toasty. Now, if I can just eradicate the image of his impossible owner from my mind, this ride into Wintervale might be pleasant in spite of my usual fear of riding.

Grrrrr

A growling noise from the tree line snaps my head up, and my heart pounds to a staccato rhythm at the flash of black and white. It’s back. The fucking thing is stalking me. The mini-bear bolts out of a copse of fir trees and launches himself straight at Mateo. The horse snorts and jumps up in the air, throwing me off balance.

I scream as I sail backwards, clutching desperately for something to hold on to. Grasping nothing but air, I’m falling…falling. I wince, waiting for the excruciating pain when I hit the gravel. The impact chases the wind from my lungs. I lay there, humiliated and hurting for several minutes until I can struggle to draw another breath. I wait for the death blow, imagining the animal’s razor-sharp teeth ripping through my flesh to sever my jugular.

I’m going to be a gruesome corpse found on the gravel in small town Ireland. Human Helen will cry.

Instead of claws or incisors, the brave horse stomps on the beast trying to get to me. I hear a crunch of bone and squeal of pain before the monster runs away.

Then, a velvety nose nudges me on the stomach. It’s the beautiful boy, checking to make sure I’m alive.

“I’m okay…I’m okay,” I assure him in between pants, then look around, searching desperately for any sign of the animal. “Thank you for saving me.”

I ignore my pain and struggle to sit up, checking my body for broken bones or other major injuries. Tomorrow, I know it will end up being worse, but for now, I think I made it out of this incident relatively unscathed.

I glance around, looking for another way to get back on Mateo, my mom’s words of getting back up on the horse after you fall off ringing in my ears. Or is that just my throbbing headache? Seeing nothing, I pull on Mateo’s reins and start to walk, thankful I’m in my Skechers and not stilettos for once.

Several blisters and a boatload of wounded pride later, I stumble into town and head toward the inn. Caris meets me at the door, staring at Mateo, then back at me.

“Savannah! What the feck happened?”

I hold out the reins for her to take. “Can you put Mateo away first? I’m sure he’s had enough of me, and I need to make sure he’s okay before we chat. Because, well…I kind of stole him.”

Her eyes bulge. “Yer stole Mateo?”

“Well, maybe I didn’t steal him, but I did take him without permission. Declan never showed up to drive me into town, and I couldn’t stay there another minute.”

“Ach. Mateo, me fine laddie, let’s get yer some fresh water and a wee spot of grain.” Caris walks the horse toward the stable, and I head inside the inn to wait for her to return to her usual post behind the bar.

Mel gets up and sweeps me into a bear hug the moment he claps eyes on me. “Savie, I’m so glad you’re here.” He leans in and kisses my cheek as he whispers, “I don’t know about you, but I’m about ready to blow this pop stand. Caris’ stellar cooking and hospitality notwithstanding. And by the way, you smell like a stable again.”

I nod and hug him back. He’s a connection to home. To something that’s familiar and makes me feel more like myself. Only getting back across the ocean to L.A. is going to make me feel like Sarah again. And yoga. And Anne. And especially Daisy.

And a whole liter of fucking top shelf vodka.

“Miss Starr, did yer get her on shanks pony?” Cos asks from his perch at the worn bar. Immediately, his smart-ass tone gets my hackles up.

“I was riding Mateo, but a bear sprang out of the woods and scared him, making me fall off. He’s too tall for me to get back on, so I had to walk the last half mile.”

“A bear?” The annoying man’s guffaws roar through the expanse of the inn and a bunch of locals join in. Before long, it’s a symphony of laughter at my expense. And I don’t like it. “Oh, Miss Starr, there aren’t any bears in Ireland. ‘Twas probably the vicious and dangerous raccoon.”

I bristle and throw my hands on my hips. “It had sharp teeth and it growled like a bear. I know what a raccoon looks like. I sometimes get them rummaging through my trash back in L.A. It was not a raccoon.”

Another guy slaps a hand on his thick tree-trunk of a leg and then pinches his bulbous nose shut with his fingers. “Mayhap ‘twas a skunk! Did it stink?”

Mel puts his hand on the small of my back and leads me toward a booth in the back. He probably knows I’m about to lose it on these backwoods yokels. I fucking know the difference between a skunk and a bear. I’m not a complete pampered Hollywood idiot.

“Want to at least have one last pint before we get out of here?” he asks, holding my hand in his. “The beer is the only thing I’m going to miss about this damn place.”

I glanced at my friend. “And Caris. I’m going to miss her.”

“And her food.”

“No doubt.”