Keegan's Lady by Catherine Anderson Read Free Book Online
Authors: Catherine Anderson
up to find Keegan's dark face hovering only inches above her own. Every bit as unyielding as his grip, his coffee-colored gaze held hers. For just an instant, she thought she glimpsed regret in his expression. Then the frosty mask fell over his features once again.
His right jaw muscle bunching with what she could only assume was anger, he said, "This little preview has been delightful, Miss O'Shannessy, but regretfully, I've decided to take a raincheck." He gestured toward the front of the barn. "It occurs to me that my brothers and three of my hired hands are standing out there, all within earshot. I think I'd like to wait until we have a bit more privacy."
Caitlin felt as if the ground had disappeared from under her feet. His brothers? A rain check? She blinked, trying to clear the swimming sensation from her head.
Releasing her wrists, Keegan tipped his hat to her, the hooded expression in his eyes unreadable. Then, without another word, he turned and exited the stall, leaving her standing in the flickering lantern light, her hands still bunched in her nightgown.
Dazed, she listened to the rhythmic shuffle of his receding footsteps. He definitely had a slight limp, she decided inanely. As if that mattered. Shock. That was why her brain seemed incapable of focusing on anything important—why she couldn't seem to gather her composure. Because she was in shock.
Seconds later, she heard Keegan barking orders in front of the barn. There followed the squeak of saddle leather as seven men swung their weight into dangling stirrups and wheeled their horses to depart.
Too stunned to move, she stared at the shadow dance upon the plank walls, slowly assimilating what he'd said, that this ordeal, which might have been finished quickly had he stayed, would now be postponed until it suited him. Meanwhile, she would have to live in dread of seeing him again, never knowing from one moment to the next when he might reappear.
Caitlin couldn't think of anything worse.
Galvanized into motion, she dropped the hem of her gown. "Wait!" She sprang from the stall. "Wait, Mr. Keegan! Please, wait!"
Her cries were still ringing in the air when she heard horses' hooves beating a rapid tattoo of retreat, loudly as they left the barn, gaining momentum as they crossed the yard, then diminishing into the darkness of the night.
----
CHAPTER TWO
Only a crazy man would have ridden at such a breakneck pace over rolling grassland, especially after dark. All it took was one chuckhole to break a horse's leg. In the back of his mind, Ace Keegan knew that. But for the moment, be didn't care. Like a man possessed by demons—or perhaps pursued by them—he spurred his stallion over the uneven ground, hat clenched in one hand, reins in the other, his body angled forward along his mount's neck to attain its greatest speed.
The night curled around him like the seductive arms of a woman, and he longed to lose himself in her. Caressing fingertips of chill wind molded his shirt to his body and threaded through his hair, over his neck, under his collar. He wanted to ride faster—then faster still. To plunge ahead into the darkness. To become separate from himself and a discovery his mind simply could not accept.
But he couldn't escape. Not into the darkness. Not anywhere. A man couldn't run hard enough or long enough or fast enough to escape the truth.
Hauling back on the reins, Ace brought his horse wheeling to a sudden stop. Enraged by the rough treatment, the stallion screamed and reared, striking the air with its front hooves. Using the strength of his arm, the vise of his legs, and the weight of his body as leverage, Ace managed to get the animal under control again, but only just barely.
"Easy, Shakespeare, easy," he said, breathing as hard as if he'd been running himself. He gently stroked the animal's lathered neck. "Easy now, boy. I'm sorry."
Ace truly meant that. Since childhood, he'd never abused a horse or allowed anyone else to do so
His right jaw muscle bunching with what she could only assume was anger, he said, "This little preview has been delightful, Miss O'Shannessy, but regretfully, I've decided to take a raincheck." He gestured toward the front of the barn. "It occurs to me that my brothers and three of my hired hands are standing out there, all within earshot. I think I'd like to wait until we have a bit more privacy."
Caitlin felt as if the ground had disappeared from under her feet. His brothers? A rain check? She blinked, trying to clear the swimming sensation from her head.
Releasing her wrists, Keegan tipped his hat to her, the hooded expression in his eyes unreadable. Then, without another word, he turned and exited the stall, leaving her standing in the flickering lantern light, her hands still bunched in her nightgown.
Dazed, she listened to the rhythmic shuffle of his receding footsteps. He definitely had a slight limp, she decided inanely. As if that mattered. Shock. That was why her brain seemed incapable of focusing on anything important—why she couldn't seem to gather her composure. Because she was in shock.
Seconds later, she heard Keegan barking orders in front of the barn. There followed the squeak of saddle leather as seven men swung their weight into dangling stirrups and wheeled their horses to depart.
Too stunned to move, she stared at the shadow dance upon the plank walls, slowly assimilating what he'd said, that this ordeal, which might have been finished quickly had he stayed, would now be postponed until it suited him. Meanwhile, she would have to live in dread of seeing him again, never knowing from one moment to the next when he might reappear.
Caitlin couldn't think of anything worse.
Galvanized into motion, she dropped the hem of her gown. "Wait!" She sprang from the stall. "Wait, Mr. Keegan! Please, wait!"
Her cries were still ringing in the air when she heard horses' hooves beating a rapid tattoo of retreat, loudly as they left the barn, gaining momentum as they crossed the yard, then diminishing into the darkness of the night.
----
CHAPTER TWO
Only a crazy man would have ridden at such a breakneck pace over rolling grassland, especially after dark. All it took was one chuckhole to break a horse's leg. In the back of his mind, Ace Keegan knew that. But for the moment, be didn't care. Like a man possessed by demons—or perhaps pursued by them—he spurred his stallion over the uneven ground, hat clenched in one hand, reins in the other, his body angled forward along his mount's neck to attain its greatest speed.
The night curled around him like the seductive arms of a woman, and he longed to lose himself in her. Caressing fingertips of chill wind molded his shirt to his body and threaded through his hair, over his neck, under his collar. He wanted to ride faster—then faster still. To plunge ahead into the darkness. To become separate from himself and a discovery his mind simply could not accept.
But he couldn't escape. Not into the darkness. Not anywhere. A man couldn't run hard enough or long enough or fast enough to escape the truth.
Hauling back on the reins, Ace brought his horse wheeling to a sudden stop. Enraged by the rough treatment, the stallion screamed and reared, striking the air with its front hooves. Using the strength of his arm, the vise of his legs, and the weight of his body as leverage, Ace managed to get the animal under control again, but only just barely.
"Easy, Shakespeare, easy," he said, breathing as hard as if he'd been running himself. He gently stroked the animal's lathered neck. "Easy now, boy. I'm sorry."
Ace truly meant that. Since childhood, he'd never abused a horse or allowed anyone else to do so
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