Storm Warrior

“That’s pretty obvious. But so what? Brandan and Mike are too. So are the rest of you. Starr’s a whiz with her bow, while I can barely hold one steady.”

“Maybe you’re not experienced enough to see the difference. Look, even Mike and Brandan agree with me that Rhys is different. Really different. He seems to be a good guy and all, don’t get me wrong. I like him, even though I think Starr’s infatuated after seeing him naked, but—”

“She saw him naked?”

Jay shrugged. “He was naked when we got here. We surprised him, that’s all.”

“I’ve got a naked guy wandering around my farm and you’re defending him?”

“Hey, I know people who like to be naked. Very natural and healthy. Think of the vitamin D his body is able to make on such a sunny day—”

Morgan put her hands over her ears. “I don’t want to think about that, thank you!”

“The point is, no one was around, so I figure, hey, it’s his business. And I know you can still hear me.”

She sighed and put her hands down. “I really wanted to believe that the nudity was a one-time thing. Now I have to be concerned about it—jeez, Jay, he’s living here. With me. On my property. What if he’s a pervert?”

“Has Rhys ever walked around naked when you’re here since that first time?”

“No.”

“Ever made a move on you?”

“No.”

“Ever said anything, insinuated anything, given you any reason to suspect he’s a pervert? Even just given you a creepy feeling?”

“No, no, and no.” She threw up her hands. “So he’s not raising any alarms. But maybe I’m just easily fooled. For all you know, I have faulty predator-detection instincts.”

“Bullshit. Veterinary medicine is as much an art as a science because our patients can’t talk to us. You have to have not just good instincts, but great instincts to be good at it. And you’re good at it, Morgan. Maybe better than Grady and me put together.”

She was surprised and touched by the compliment and would have said so, but Jay wasn’t finished.

“So I figure Rhys is safe enough or you’d know,” he said. “But you gotta consider this weaponry thing. Morgan, I’m telling you, his level of skill with a sword or a bow or even a horse doesn’t come from taking classes or attending Ren fairs.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s on the offensive constantly. And all of his moves are instinctive; he’s not thinking about them. But he is thinking about how to pull his punches, so to speak. Everything he does is designed to take advantage of his opponent’s weaknesses, and fast. He got under Mike’s guard and took him down, like I said, but if Rhys hadn’t drawn back at the last moment, Mike would have lost one or both legs.”

“Jesus, Jay! First you tell me he’s naked, then you tell me he’s some kind of psycho!”

“That’s not what I mean at all. It’s just that his style of swordplay isn’t play. It’s kill or be killed. It’s the real thing, Morgan. And you can only get that kind of skill one way.”

She didn’t want to know but asked anyway. “And what is that?”

“From living it, Morgan.”

Oh, good grief. “You really think his warrior story is true, don’t you?”

“I’m remaining open to all possibilities.”

In other words, he did. If Jay had asked her to accept the existence of unicorns, she doubted that it would have felt much different. “Look, it’s one thing to be receptive to new ideas, but this is really out there.”

“That’s not a valid reason to discount Rhys’s story. What about Sherlock Holmes?”

“What does he have to do with anything?”

“Sherlock Holmes said, ‘When you have eliminated the impossible—’”

Jay stepped back suddenly, and Morgan turned to see what he was looking at. She had a split second’s view of the great black horse bearing down on her. There was no time to react before she was whisked skyward and clamped tight to a broad chest.

“What the hell!” she sputtered. She was seated sideways on the horse in front of Rhys like a storybook princess. It wasn’t a secure feeling, despite his obvious strength. “Put me down!”

Her captor only laughed at her. As the horse circled the archery range at an easy canter, Morgan gradually lost her initial fear. She couldn’t fall if she tried, held fast by Rhys’s iron arms. And as far as she could tell, Rhys himself was part of the horse. She gave up and relaxed. They circled the field twice more, and Morgan found herself actually disappointed when they came to a gentle stop in front of the cheering group. Rhys gave her a final squeeze then set her on the ground as easily as if she’d been a child.

He dismounted and walked the horse over to his owner. Morgan couldn’t figure out how he guided Boo so easily without a lead rope. Rhys’s hand rested on the muscled neck of the big draft animal, but Boo weighed close to a ton. If the horse decided to go in another direction, there’d be nothing to stop him. Yet he followed as if he were simply a large, companionable dog.

Morgan’s heart squeezed. The horse was behaving just as her big black mastiff had, taking his every cue from his human. As Rhyswr had looked to her—and damn it all, she missed him. Seeking some privacy, she stepped around the side of a truck and scrubbed the moisture from her eyes with the heel of her hand. Sniffed and chided herself for getting so emotional—

“It’s strange to see sadness on such a bright day. Are you well?” There was concern in Rhys’s strong face, a softness in his gaze that contrasted with the hard muscle of his body.

“I’m just missing my dog, that’s all. It’s probably silly—I didn’t have him all that long.”

“Aye, but it’s not the number of days that decides the strength of the bond.” He rested a massive hand lightly on her shoulder for a moment, then strode back to the corral where Mike had finished saddling Boo.

Surprised by the simple wisdom, Morgan was left to wonder if he was speaking about her dog or something more. For the next couple of hours, she watched Rhys instructing each of the group, even Jay, who could barely ride, in the art of horsemanship. No matter who the student was, however, she only had eyes for Rhys. The way he moved was deeply familiar to her, as if she’d been watching him for years, not mere days.

She ate from a plate Starr had brought her, barely tasting the food. Barely hearing the excited conversations around her. Instead she considered the long conversations she’d had with Rhys each evening over supper. They were so easy together, so familiar. Sometimes she even knew what he was going to say before he said it. How had this man, this stranger, slipped so seamlessly into her life in so short a time? How had he stepped from a dream and into her every waking thought?

It’s not the number of days that decides the strength of the bond…

She still didn’t have the answers she wanted—and she sure as hell wasn’t ready to consider Jay’s suggestion—but in the past few days, she’d managed to come to one conclusion at least.

Nainie Jones had said that someday a leap of knowing would come to her. Morgan hadn’t understood then, but now it seemed that she had indeed inherited a little of her grandmother’s ability to sense the future. Modern science allowed that intuition, extrasensory perception, and presentiment existed. Plus, hunches and feelings counted for a lot in Morgan’s own work. There were numberless times that she had sensed more than tested her way to a diagnosis. So she could accept that she had a portion—a very small portion—of Nainie’s gift. After all, that would explain all the dreams she’d had about Rhys. It explained how she felt that she knew Rhys before she met him and why she trusted him when all logic said she shouldn’t.

It didn’t explain the rush of desire Morgan felt every time she was within a hundred yards of the man. But one day soon she just might try to answer that question on her own.

The sun was down before the group finished loading up their horses and their equipment and left. Rhys had enjoyed their company immensely. They seemed to appreciate his instruction, and it felt good to heft weapons again, even if they weren’t exactly what he was used to. Both the bows and the swords were light for their size, more like toys than tools, and while the longbow was powerful, it wasn’t suited for use on horseback. But the principles were the same and they worked well enough, as evidenced from the blood when Mike had taken a hit