zeroing in on the creases beneath his eyes. “You don’t look good. Maybe this wasn’t the best night for a conciliatory dinner.”
“Thursday night.” He raised his glass in a toast. “You chose it. I’d be happy if you promoted me to something halfway human before you left.”
“Mmm. The jury’s still out on that one.” She took a sip of wine, moving toward the porch railing to gaze over the fields beyond. Green and rolling, the ground unfurled as far as she could see. To the left, towering oaks and hemlock surrounded the sloping roofline of a white bank barn. A light breeze brought the scent of sun-warmed grass and sweet clover. It danced across the porch, lifting the hair from her shoulders. Several hundred yards away, a small pond glinted in the fading sun surrounded by dense clumps of milkweed, cattails and rushes. The setting was serene, picturesque as a postcard. Sighing, she closed her eyes in appreciation.
“It’s beautiful here.”
“You’ll get no argument from me.”
She blinked, surprised to find him sitting on the railing facing her, his back to the field. One long leg was planted against the floor, the other bent casually at the knee. She hadn’t heard the tread of his shoes against the plank boards. How had he moved so soundlessly?
He glanced toward the barn, his collar gaping at the throat. It left the diamond-shaped scar on his neck exposed. “The date stone on the barn reads 1832. The wood has been replaced, but the foundation is original. I imagine the home is just as old.” He grinned as an idea struck him. “Do you like horses?”
“I–” Arianna hedged. “I don’t know. I’ve never been around them. I don’t dislike them.”
“Good. Let’s go for a walk.” Caleb offered his hand. The gesture was so natural, she automatically twined her fingers with his. Before she realized what he’d done, he led her from the porch, guiding her down a well-trodden path to the barn. His hand was embracing and warm.
Too warm, she realized, focusing on the ashen cast of his skin. She was tempted to ask about his headaches, but stifled the urge to pry.
“Winston isn’t much for horses,” Caleb said as they walked. “He tolerates Ranger, but if it were up to him, he’d convert the barn to additional space for those blasted vehicles he drives.” Releasing her hand, he opened the door. “Personally, I don’t understand the need.”
If the three-car garage she’d noticed to the west of the house was any indication, Wyn favored more than one car. “What do you drive?”
“I don’t.”
She balked. What kind of man didn’t drive? Was he some kind of eco-green conservationist? She was all for preserving the environment, but it was next to impossible to get around the outlying areas of Sagehill without a car.
“What do you mean you don’t drive?”
“It’s complicated.”
She was about to challenge the statement when it dawned on her. His headaches. He probably couldn’t drive, doctor’s orders.
Caleb opened the barn door and she stepped inside.
The interior was murky with shadow, permeated by the smell of wood, hay, and leather. A faint odor of manure lingered on the edges. Not entirely unpleasant, it made her think of farm fields and horse-drawn carriages. Fading streams of light speared through random cracks in the walls, trapping dust motes in a sluggish ballet. Caleb activated a switch near the door and the interior was flooded with yellow light.
“Wow.” Scattered pieces of straw crunched under Arianna’s sandals as she moved further inside. Rope and tack hung from pegs on the walls, side by side with an assortment of small hand tools. She spied a dirt-encrusted shovel, rake and pitchfork. To the right, a wooden ladder led to an overhead loft, littered with straw. Of the four stalls in the barn, only one was occupied. Curious, Arianna stepped nearer.
She remembered carnival pony rides as a child, her father walking beside her as she’d sat on the swayed back of an ancient, gentle mare. This horse was different: younger, incredibly large and regal looking with a deep chestnut coat, darker mane and tail. It swiveled its head in her direction, regarding her with open curiosity.
“Say hello to Ranger.” Caleb ran a hand over the long nose of the horse and was rewarded with a soft snort and nudge in the side. “We’ve been together three years. Here.” Taking her wrist, he guided her hand to rest where his had been. The horse bobbed its head, butting against her, offering a gentle nicker as greeting.
“Lothario,” Caleb chided with affection. “He’s showing off. Flirting with you, the shameless cad.”
She smiled, enjoying the silky feel of the horse’s coat beneath her fingertips. “He wasn’t hurt, that night on the road?” In her mind, she could still see Caleb as the horse reared, his hair a blaze of pure silver in the headlights. Everything about that evening had seemed surreal, as if she’d flirted on the fringe of make-believe.
“No. The scoundrel couldn’t make it back to the barn fast enough, never mind he left me lying on the roadside.”
Arianna giggled at the memory. “You were a sight. For a moment, I thought I’d gotten caught up in some kind of time warp. Between the fog, your horse, and the way you were dressed, I thought I’d taken a turn into the Twilight Zone.”
“Twilight Zone?” Caleb looked puzzled.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of Rod Serling?” Arianna blinked in surprise. “Where have you been the living for the last few decades–under a rock?”
He grinned. “Sorry.”
“You’re not one of those PBS-only people are you?”
“Excuse me?”
“Never mind.” She waved the comment aside. “I don’t know why I should be surprised, considering you were wearing a nineteenth century frock coat.”
“Very good.”
His grin was back in place, but she could tell he was starting to tire. No headache this time. It wasn’t pain, but fatigue, that made him lean into the stall door. Ranger nudged his shoulder playfully, and Caleb indulged the horse by rubbing behind its ears.
“The coat was a gift from Winston,” he explained. “I have a strong appreciation for history, particularly the Civil War era. My brother knows that.”
Arianna thought of the books she’d seen him reading at the library. He’d hit upon one of her favorite subjects, something she could talk about for hours, but didn’t want to appear eager or too friendly. She was growing comfortable with him and that bothered her. Watching how relaxed he was with Ranger made it hard to dislike him.
“Maybe we should go back to the house. You look like you should sit down.”
He arched a brow into his bangs. “Am I that obvious?”
Not quite an admission, but it was close enough. “You look like you don’t feel well.”
“Stop worrying. I might get the wrong impression and think you care.”
“I
