“This is one of Maud’s favorite places,” he said, and gestured out toward the slope of the hill. “Want to get down? Walk through them? Smell them?”
This was just what she needed after such a hard, deep cry. Shiloh still felt fragile and tentative. “I’d love to,” she admitted, a catch in her tone. She saw a gleam in Roan’s eyes, but was unable to interpret the look. His face was more relaxed. Dismounting awkwardly, she felt his gloved hand slip beneath her elbow and steady her as she put her feet in the dew-laden grass. Her skin tingled and she ached to step those few inches and turn into him to be held again. Shame made her step away and pull Charley’s reins over his head as he eagerly began to eat the lush grass. What must Roan think of her? There was no recrimination in his eyes that she could see. If anything, she felt a powerful mantle of protection around her emanating from him.
“Go ahead,” he urged her quietly, taking the reins from her hand. “Go explore,” he added, and he smiled a little, seeing the sparkle in her eyes. Roan’s heart expanded as she responded to his low, gruff tone. She pulled the cell phone from her pocket, turned, and moved slowly into the flowers. There was yellow balsamroot, red gilia, white Richardson’s geraniums, pink shooting stars, purple monkshood, and blue lupine throughout the area.
Roan was content to remain with the horses and watch her bend down, cup a bloom, and inhale its fragrance. The sunlight picked up the burgundy, gold, and copper strands of her ponytail, which moved across her shoulder every time she bent down. She was like a kid in a candy store, enthusiasm evident in her face as she took photos of her favorites.
Around him, mid-morning was waking up in earnest. Hearing the red-tail behind him, he turned, looking across his shoulder toward Pine Hills, seeing one of the hawks leaving their nest. The chirping of birds was a tranquil song to him; one he’d never get tired of hearing. Roan kept his gaze on Shiloh as she slowly worked her way down the hill, looking for new flowers so she could photograph them. He knew there was nothing like this meadow in New York City. It must look like a kaleidoscope to Shiloh. Or maybe something else because she was a writer and saw things differently than most others.
Wrapping his arms against his chest while contented horses eagerly munched the grass, Roan found himself feeling happy for no discernible reason. Shiloh was graceful. He watched her put her arms out to balance herself here and there. There were a lot of gopher holes in the hillside and she couldn’t see where she was stepping, the grass covering up the many mounds where the pesky creatures lived in town-like burrows. If a horse ever accidentally stepped into one, it could break a leg and send the rider flying. He didn’t like gophers.
Once Shiloh made her way to the end of the slope, she turned and looked up at him, waving and smiling.
Roan felt his skin riffle. He lifted his hand and smiled in return. Her ponytail had pretty much worked its way loose and now her hair lay about her shoulders like a gleaming red and gold cape. Almost the colors of aged cedar. Like his cabin. Frowning, he lifted his chin, staring in the distance toward his home. On weekends, he would drive out here and work from dawn to dusk, returning back to the ranch center because there was no furniture in there yet. He’d set the major posts for a porch he wanted to build around half the cabin. The idea of having a rocking chair there that he could mosey out on with a cup of hot coffee in the morning appealed to Roan. He laughed to himself because at an earlier age, he’d never contemplate a rocking chair. But life had moved on and he’d changed. Things that had been important to him as an operator in the Army were now in the past.
Gazing toward Shiloh, he watched her walking around the edge of the meadow. As she started a long climb up toward him and the horses he could see her pant legs from her knees downward were soaked with dew. Smiling to himself as Shiloh drew nearer, he saw her cheeks had bloomed with pink once more. Even better, there was life in her green eyes again, no longer dull or rife with pain and memories. Her hair had a slight curl to it, the crimson waves lovingly outlining her oval face. Trying not to stare at her breasts too long or the gentle sway to her hips, he kept trying to control his hungry body.
Roan couldn’t help but grin as she came up the hill, breathing hard, cheeks flushed, her green eyes shining. It had been a good decision to bring her here, help her orient to the present. Let the past ebb out like a tide and give her some downtime from the brutality of it all.
“I just got lost in the beauty of all those flowers, Roan.” Shiloh pulled some of her strands away from her face, smiling up into his hard, serious-looking features.
“You looked like you were having fun.” Roan found himself wanting to sweep Shiloh into his arms. She was so alive. So . . . tempting. Gesturing down to her wet, darkened Levi’s, he drawled, “The only downside is wet pant legs.”