Their Newborn Gift by Nikki Logan Page A

Reilly leaned down and spoke to her quietly. She looked up at him with unadulterated hero-worship.
    Lea’s heart squeezed.
    Then he turned Pan for the gate and crossed to it, reaching down with his free hand to deftly swing it open into the larger paddock. Sudden thumping kick-started her frozen heart—he was going to run. Lea lurched towards the post-and-rail fencing, panic overtaking her.
    ‘No!’
    Reilly paused Pan at the opened gate and glanced back at her.
    ‘Stay in the yard.’ Her voice cracked slightly. ‘Please.’
    His eyes blazed into hers, even across the yard. He barely raised his voice but she heard him. ‘She wants to run, Lea. I won’t let her come to any harm. I give you my word.’
    Lea’s heart thumped. The word of a man who was holdingan unborn child to ransom. What was that worth? But then she saw the way he protected every part of Molly with his body, the way she clung to him. Molly had learned to trust her father—or had not yet learned not to. Lea couldn’t remember the feeling. Her chest constricted with the shadow of old pain. But she stood back and Reilly squeezed the mare with his knees.
    Pan moved up to a casual trot and then, as if realising Molly couldn’t rise and fall with the horse’s staccato rhythm, Reilly increased it. The more comfortable gait meant that he and Molly could move as one as they cantered gently around the larger paddock. On a close pass, Lea saw that Molly’s hands had turned in the reins to hold on tightly to Reilly’s fingers. He tucked her further back against him. Concern died in her mouth as she saw that Molly was not only perfectly safe, she was loving every moment of her ride.
    They smiled and laughed and cantered together, round and round, until out of nowhere Molly began to cry. Reilly turned immediately and crossed the paddock back towards Lea, slowing to a brief trot and then a fast walk. Confusion marred his features as Lea scooted under the fence and walked up to Pan’s side. He lowered his tearful bundle straight into her outstretched arms and Molly buried her tears against her mother’s shoulder.
    His face was tight. ‘What did…?’
    Lea shook her head and squeezed his calf gently, recognising genuine concern for Molly in his bemused expression. He thought he’d done something wrong. ‘She’s overwhelmed, Reilly. Exhilaration, fear.’ Hero worship. ‘It’s too much. The tears are a four-year-old’s way of saying thank you.’
    He dipped his head and let the shade of his akubra cover eyes that flicked briefly to her hand on his leg. His Adam’s apple worked overtime beneath his tan throat. ‘Do you mind if I let Pan have a stretch? I can feel her itching for it.’
    No doubt; she hadn’t had a good ride for ages. She let her hand drop from his leg and did her best not to feel self-conscious about having touched him. ‘Go ahead. The trail leads off from the eastern corner.’
    He spun Pan outward and headed straight to the corner ofthe larger paddock, giving the mare her head as soon as they were outside the fences. Lea watched them gallop along the long stretch of the paddock towards the trees. Man and horse moved as one, comfortable and at home despite having only just met minutes before, eating up the track. Freed of its precious burden, Reilly’s body relaxed, and he tipped forward in the saddle to shift his weight over Pan’s centre of gravity and really let her fly.
    The last impression Lea had was of the strength and synergy of two beautiful mammals moving together.
    Reilly ran the mare until she started to ease. He could have gone twice as far and still not worked off the tightness in his gut. Too much sensation. Lifting Molly onto the horse was the first time he’d properly touched, held, smelled his daughter. It had cut straight to his heart—her fragile, warm body so stiff with anticipation pressing against him, clinging to his fingers; her frailty, as though she weighed nothing, which was practically the truth. Her