Laughing, she nodded and smoothed her hand against her knee. “That grass is heavy with dew!”
“It’s like that every morning until about eleven A.M.,” he said. The breeze moved her hair and, without thinking, he reached out, capturing some of those wayward strands and then tucking them behind her ear. Roan saw her stand very still, her pupils growing large and black beneath his touch. Cursing to himself, he dropped his hand, realizing how intimate the gesture had been. Shiloh suddenly looked shy and she lowered her lashes, moving over to where Charley stood, and picked up his reins. Roan wanted to touch her again. Everywhere, starting with that ripe mouth of hers.
“Thank you for showing me this meadow. It’s so perfect. So beautiful,” she said, holding his gaze as she pulled the reins over Charley’s head.
“I thought it might be a positive change for you,” he said, holding her stare. Roan saw desire in Shiloh’s eyes. When her pupils grew dark and large, he knew how to interpret that telltale sign. She had liked his touch. Right now, Shiloh was fragile. He shouldn’t have done it because it was like taking advantage of her when she was vulnerable. Kicking himself inwardly, he was finding by being around her, touching Shiloh was coming way too naturally for him. He tried to blame it on the fact that her red hair was loose and a glorious, shining crown around her shoulders. He tried to convince himself that her green eyes were only temporarily warm and soft with longing because she was raw from her earlier weeping in his arms.
As much as Roan wanted to tell himself that holding Shiloh was the humane thing to do, it went a lot deeper than that for him. He was protective toward her from the beginning and now he understood, in part, why. His operator’s senses had told him she was under genuine threat. And it had been proven to him. Whether he wanted to or not, Roan was emotionally invested in Shiloh because she’d turned into his embrace and wanted his arms around her. It made him feel good as a man to do that for her as a woman. And his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. Rubbing the area, Roan scowled and mounted his horse. Shiloh followed suit. Each time she was a little less gawky and unsure of herself, gaining confidence in herself and her horse.
“See that cabin?” she said, pointing in that direction. “Who lives there?”
Roan pulled his black gelding up alongside her paint. “I do.” He saw her eyes widen enormously as she looked at him, then at the cabin, and then back at him.
“But,” she stammered, “you live at the employee house.”
Smiling a little, he saw the confusion in her eyes. “It’s a shell of a cabin,” he explained. “Taken me a year of working on my days off to get it this far. Would you like to ride over and see it?”
“I’d love to,” Shiloh admitted. “It looks like it’s glowing gold in the morning sunlight. So pretty,” she sighed, giving him a warm look. “You’re a man of many surprises,” she added in a teasing tone as their horses walked beside each other through the grass.
“What? That I’m building a cabin?”
“Yes. This looks a lot more like you. Raw, natural. Beautiful.”
He snorted. “Men are not beautiful.”
She grinned broadly. “Sure, they can be beautiful.” He was to her. What he’d done for her earlier was an incredible act of kindness. Love. Love? Well, maybe she was going overboard. Roan certainly felt sorry for her and probably felt like he had to do something to help her. She saw him grimace and then shake his head. “Men are beautiful in their own way,” she proclaimed archly, enjoying his sudden chagrin.
“You’re a writer. Can’t you come up with a better adjective than that for us?” he griped, giving her a teasing look in return. Shiloh had settled the baseball cap on her hair and it gleamed in the sunlight. Roan found himself wishing she’d wear it down all the time, understanding that long hair got in the way at times for a woman. Still, he itched to take off his gloves and tunnel his fingers through that thick, soft mass of red strands.
Chuckling, Shiloh shrugged. “In my books, I sometimes refer to the hero as beautiful. Seen through the eyes of the heroine, who loves him, of course.”
“Call me anything, even late for dinner, but do not ever call me beautiful.”
Her lilting laughter surrounded him and God help him, Roan felt his heart blossom with such fierce feelings for Shiloh, it left him stunned.
Chapter Eight