An Accidental Seduction by Lois Greiman Page A

would have leapt from old Daisy and raced to catch you before you hit the ground,” he said.
    “Yes. What were you thinking?” she asked, and wandered farther into the barn.
    “I fear you may not wish to know,” he said.
    She turned to find his eyes, but if he was being suggestive, it didn’t show on his face.
    “Sorry I am that you were hurt,” he said.
    Some weak-kneed part of her was tempted to assure him it was not his fault, but she bullied that part into silence. “And what of your ankle? You seem to be quite yourself,” she said, and wondered if his infirmary had been nothing but a ploy to gain him a seat on her mount.
    “We Irish are remarkably fast healers. Survival of the fittest, I suppose, from living with our—”
    “Betters,” she said. “Yes I know.”
    He grinned. “Perhaps I could massage your shoulder for you.”
    “Still married,” she said. “Remember?”
    Crossing his arms against his tight chest, he settled his lean hips against the empty stall behind him. Indigo reached over the planks between them, tousling Gallagher’s hair as he huffed into it.
    “We are a far distance from a doctor,” he said. “Surely even a married woman deserves a bit of attention when she’s been hurt.”
    She wandered down the hard-packed aisle. A pair of speckled lambkins were nestled close to their mother’sside, spiky, two-toned lashes closed over sleepy eyes. “I assure you I get plenty of attention.”
    “Oh? I was under the impression that your beloved husband was gone.”
    She eyed him askance. “I feel confident that he will return.”
    “Who would not?” he asked, and there was something in his tone that made her turn toward him.
    He shrugged, still grinning. “I doubt you’re unaware of your charms, me lady.”
    Dear God, he was a flirt. She straightened her back. “I’m not entirely stupid.”
    “Or modest.”
    It was her turn to shrug. “Seeming so would be a waste of my time.”
    “And your time is so valuable.”
    “What do you mean by that?”
    “No offense, sure,” he said. “You but seem restless this night.”
    She let her fingers trail along the top plank of the pigs’ enclosure. A dozen spotted bodies were attached like living pods to their mother’s underbelly. The piebald sow was smiling as she snored.
    “Tell me, Lady A, why are you here?”
    “I thought the answer to that was so obvious that even a candle would understand.”
    “A cand…? Ahh, Wicklow,” he said, and grinned.“Well, perhaps I am even more daft than I appear.”
    “Doubtful,” she said, and even she wasn’t sure how she meant it. But he didn’t seem to be insulted by any of the possibilities.
    “Forgive me for me boldness, lass, but you do not seem the sort to be content on some country hillock, watching autumn chill to winter.”
    “You know very little of me,” she said, and found that despite her considerable good sense, she wanted to tell him the truth about herself.
    “I but wait with bated breath to learn more,” he said.
    She stared at him a moment, then shook her head. “Tell me, do your bumbling ploys work on the tittering maids of your homeland?”
    He laughed. “Not near oft enough.”
    “And I can assure you they will not work on me.”
    “So attached to your husband, are you?” he asked, and crossing the aisle, tossed a bit of fodder to the soft-eyed milk cow.
    “Till death do us part.”
    “And yet he is gone.”
    “But never replaced,” she said.
    “He must be quite a shining example of manhood to have won such loyalty.”
    “Perhaps I am just that sort,” she said, and turning at the end of the barn, paced slowly toward him, still running her gloved fingers over the tops of the stalls.
    “Loyal?” he asked.
    “Yes.” She stood within a few feet of him now, and regardless of her words of staunch faithfulness, she felt his allure like a warm wind on her face. Could feel it washing away her pretenses. Odd. It was not as if she had been cloistered before