“Oh, no worries there, lass, I blame all three of ye. Angelo had no business letting you in, and Danny had no business bringing you out here at all.” His anger wiped away any English veneer he might have—he was an enraged Highlander ready to reach for his claymore.

“I believe the horse didn’t spook until a large Scotsman came charging in to see what we were up to.”

Cameron’s eyes flashed. “I never thought you’d be daft enough to crawl around a stall with a half-crazy racehorse!”

“I had to get my ribbon back.”

Cameron let go of her, but his rage didn’t lessen. “Ribbon—what the devil are ye talking about?”

“She was eating my hair ribbon. I didn’t think you wanted her to choke on it.”

He stared at Ainsley’s bare head. “What possessed you t’ give it to her in the first place?”

“I didn’t give it to her. She has a long neck and strong teeth.”

Cameron’s palm pressed where Jasmine had ripped a lock from Ainsley’s hair. His voice softened a notch. “Are you all right, lass?”

“I’m fine. My brother Patrick had a horse who regularly took chunks out of anyone near her. I still have the teeth marks to prove it. If she couldn’t reach your flesh, she’d happily chomp on your hat or coat, skirt or shirt. Jasmine only pulled out my hair ribbon.”

Cameron didn’t appear to be listening. He caressed Ainsley’s hair with a gentle hand. “Jasmine’s gotten away from Angelo before,” he said. “No horse gets away from Angelo. The little sweetheart is giving us a lot of bother.”

“Shouldn’t you be running after her?”

“I wanted to make sure ye were all right, first.”

Ainsley’s heart sped at the gentleness in his voice. “Not to mention shout at me.”

“And shout at you.” His eyes sparkled again. “Do ye always walk into a horse’s stall so fearlessly?”

“Since I was three and liked to stand under their bellies.”

“Good Lord, lass, I pity your parents.”

“Brothers. My parents died when I was very young. My oldest brother was already twenty and looked after the lot of us. Pity poor dear Patrick. I drove him mad. Still do.”

“I don’t doubt.” Cameron’s voice had lost its anger, his hand continuing to caress.

Ainsley wanted to step to him, to absorb more of his heat against the chill wind that cut across the meadow. In her rather lonely existence the last six years, she’d never been so warm as this night.

“You’d better go find your horse,” she said.

“She’s not mine. She’s only borrowed.”

“All the more reason.”

“Angelo’s the best horseman and tracker in the world, and I’m not finished with ye yet.”

Why did the words make her shiver with pleasure? “No?”

The stable boy was approaching, leading the horse he’d saddled. Cameron slid his big hand behind Ainsley’s neck and scooped her up to him for a fiery kiss.

It was a kiss filled with promise, one that told her he hadn’t forgotten what he’d started in his study, nor his intention to finish it.

Cameron released her, turned as the stable lad reached them, and swung up on the horse with easy grace.

Ainsley folded her arms against the sudden cold as Cameron rode off into the night, the stable lad waving him away.

It took the rest of the night to catch the bloody horse. By the time Cameron led Jasmine in, lathered, scratched by bramble—and if he didn’t know better, smug—the sun was up, and his two trainers were already out with horses on lounge lines. Cameron rubbed down Jasmine himself, and Angelo watered her as Cameron quit the stables for the house.

He bathed, dressed in fresh clothes, and went to the sunny room in Mac’s wing where a private breakfast was served for the family. It was only eight, but during a house party, Isabella and Beth rose early to coordinate the activities for the day.

These breakfasts involved whatever family members were awake and hungry—brothers, sisters-in-law, Daniel, valets, dogs. When Cameron entered, Isabella and Beth were already chattering about the day’s schedule. Mac sat close to Isabella, reading a paper and stealing his hand to his wife’s whenever he could. Ian ate slowly and steadily, listening to Beth and no one else. Ian’s valet, Curry, ate with gusto, the former pickpocket still reveling in the fact that he now lived the high life. Angelo was absent, the man deciding to remain in the stables with Jasmine, as were Daniel, Hart, and Mac’s pugilist valet, Bellamy.

Curry jumped up to serve Cameron, but Cameron waved the little man back to his chair and helped himself to eggs and sausages, bannocks and coffee. He plunked the plate and cup to his usual place across from Isabella and snatched part of the racing newspaper from Mac.

Without looking at it, he said to Isabella, “Tell me everything you know about Mrs. Douglas.”

Isabella’s brows rose in surprise, then she smiled. “And why are you so interested in Ainsley Douglas?”

“Because she’s busy corrupting my son, my valet, and my horses. I want to know what I am up against.”

Cameron didn’t miss Beth’s sudden smile and Mac’s knowing grin.

“I wondered when you’d confess,” Mac said. “I noticed the way you looked at her when you saw her in Isabella’s front parlor last year.”

“Was she in Isabella’s parlor last year?” Cameron asked.