Chapter
Nineteen
As a veterinarian, Jillian had been to countless
farms. But she’d never assign the word beautiful to any of them. The Macleod farm was an
exception. A long wooded lane led to a sprawling two-story house
nestled in the trees. The old building had been made over into
something that spoke of both history and comfort. The roofed porch
that wrapped around two sides of the house had a charming
assortment of mismatched chairs and rockers scattered about, and a
couple of hanging swings. Pots of newly planted flowers sat in
groups everywhere. Carefully tended beds of yellow daylilies and
purple irises flanked the steps. The effect was one of invitation,
of welcome.
She parked the truck in front of the
steps, took Birkie’s trays of plants to the porch and set them
carefully in front of the door. She knew there was no one at the
house. Connor was in surgery this afternoon. There was no sign of
anyone else either. No sign of James, and that was a bit of a
letdown, even if she knew he was likely busy. It was a sunny and
pleasant day, however, and who could blame her if she decided to
walk around a little?
Most farmyards were as clear-cut and
visually barren as the fields beyond them but not here. Jillian
counted five species of trees she knew and two she didn’t in tall
dense stands between every building. And every barn and shed was
freshly painted in clean bright white with simple black trim to
match the house. A refreshing change from the usual garish red barn
paint most farmers favored, when they bothered to paint anything at
all.
The buildings, although in good repair,
looked to be of the same era as the house. The fencing, however,
was a sharp contrast. No battered wood here, no patched and spliced
wire. Instead, steel rails gleamed between steel posts, all in
basic black. Jillian recognized the brand label as top of the line.
No haphazard enclosures here either, but tidy, organized corrals
and paddocks, linked in places by modern chutes. A clean and
efficient operation yet far from sterile, Jillian thought.
Animals probably enjoy living here. God knows
there’re enough of them. Dogs, cats, goats, chickens, and
even a couple of outsized pigs seemed to have the run of the place.
She couldn’t help smiling as she recognized a few of the dogs, knew
Connor had adopted them when their owners had requested euthanasia
for reasons of convenience rather than mercy. They bounced over to
her, swarmed her with affection. She laughed and tried to
distribute petting and head rubs to all.
A sudden voice made her jump. “Looking
for something?”
The dogs left her at once in favor of
James. Jillian saw with interest that they didn’t jump and leap but
sat grinning at his feet. He gave them each a quick pat and turned
his attention back to her. “What brings you out here?”
“Birkie sent some bedding plants over
for Connor. I didn’t know what to do with them.”
“Where are they?”
“On the porch.” She stood open-mouthed
as he immediately strode across the yard in the direction of his
brother’s house. She walked quickly but was forced to break into a
jog just to try to catch up. Jillian made it to the bottom of the
steps just as James scooped up the trays from in front of the
door.
“I’m sorry, should I have put them
somewhere else?”
“Anywhere but with Connor. I don’t know
how anyone so gifted with animals can have such a black thumb when
it comes to plants.”
Jillian looked around at the abundance
of flowers spilling out of pots and overflowing the garden on
either side of the steps. “He seems to do all right with
these.”
James shook his head as he swept by her
with the trays. “Zoey filled the pots while I cleaned up the
garden. Connor had thistles the size of trees growing
here.”
“What kind of plants did Birkie give
you?” She was trying to be pleasant but it was irritating to have
to hurry to keep up again. She nearly ran into him when he stopped
abruptly.
“You don’t know them?”
“No. I studied zoology not botany. I
can recognize a few things like the geraniums on the porch, but
these have no flowers.” She was surprised to see him—what? It
wasn’t a smile or a grin, but the ghost of each, a faint crook of
one corner of his mouth. Still it had the effect of lightening his
face, easing the fierce brow, although those blue Viking eyes were
just as piercing. Jillian scanned the trays he was holding and
pointed to a dark-leafed plant. “So what’s this one
here?”
In answer he pulled off a leaf and
crushed it under her nose.
“Recognize it now?”
“It’s familiar but I can’t place
it.”
“Basil. Haven’t you ever cooked with
fresh basil?”
“I’ve never even cooked with the dried
up stuff in the little jars. But I’ve eaten Birkie’s homemade pizza
so at least I know that I like basil.” She
pointed to another one. “What’s this one that looks like tubular
grass?”
“Chives.”
“Are they all herbs?”
“Most of them. Connor is actually a
decent cook when he has the time.”
“Connor? Our
Connor? The same man who gets so busy he forgets to eat? He must
only cook about once a year then.”
James chuckled at that and set off
across the yard again. At a more leisurely pace.
“I have to say that this place looks
terrific.” Jillian was able to fall in step—almost. His legs were
still a lot longer than hers. “I see a lot of farms, but this one
really stands out. What do you produce here?”
“Nothing much yet. There’s lots of
preparation to be done before we raise anything.”
“I’d love to hear about it.” Then she
had a brainwave that Birkie would be proud of. “Or I’ve got time
for a tour if it’s easier to show me.”
He glanced at her as if to see if she
was sincere, then stopped at a shed and tucked the plants inside.
“These will be out of the sun here. I’ll get them
later.”
The tour began with the closest corral,
which contained three enormous Highland bulls. Their sweeping horns
reminded Jillian of the Texas Longhorn of cowboy movie fame, but
that’s where the resemblance ended. Their shaggy fur and stocky
build was more reminiscent of Ice Age oxen. It was a breed that
Jillian hadn’t encountered close up yet, and she got closer than
expected as James led her right inside the corral with the
creatures. They nosed their way over to him with an amiability
she’d seldom seen in cattle, stood patiently as James scratched
their foreheads under the fringe of long hair that hid their eyes.
“Hardy beasts,” he was saying. “Well suited to the kind of winter
we get up here in northern Canada.” He talked about their history,
the pros and cons of using them as a beef-producing
breed.
She thought at first that the bulls
were unusually gentle, but the experience was repeated with each
enclosure. Jillian began to understand that there was something
unusual about James, not the animals. Did he have some sort of
calming influence or aura, something that animals were able to
sense? Was that why he had been able to restrain Cujo? And that
poor pony that had been badly stung by a nest of hornets. It had
been a frightened wreck. Until James came by. The animal had
settled down immediately and allowed Jillian to treat it.
Too bad James couldn’t calm the owner as well, but
you can’t have everything.
Jillian glanced up at James as they
walked among the corrals. He was relaxed, at home here. The warrior
visage was softened, nearly nonexistent, as he spoke of his visions
for the farm. He had a deep passion for what he was doing, she
realized. Just as she felt a soul-deep fervor for veterinary
medicine, James Macleod had an affinity for the earth. It was easy
to listen to him. She’d never paid much attention to agriculture,
outside of the health of livestock. Now she was getting a glimpse
of how much farming was both an art and a science.
The horses in the far paddock spotted
James and trotted over at once, just as every other creature here
had done. With a start, Jillian realized she was more than a little
envious of that. With the exception of dogs, most animals didn’t
run up to greet a person unless they were hoping for
food.
Certainly livestock seldom showed
interest when most farmers approached unless grain was involved.
And animals definitely didn’t run up to veterinarians. Well, except for Poodle. He always seemed pleased to be
at the clinic, but the old Siamese cat was decidedly
eccentric.
“You’re like the Pied Piper,” she
blurted as a pig that must weigh close to 600 pounds ambled over to
receive a scratch on the head from James.
“Why is that?”
“They all adore you. Look at the parade
behind us, for heaven’s sake.” Jillian waved her free hand at the
entourage that followed them. Dogs certainly, but also cats, goats,
two pigs and an assortment of chickens and geese. “Why do they do
that?”
James grinned. “Animals are excellent
judges of character.” And that was all the explanation he would
give her.
Eventually they came to the edge of the
farmyard, where the trees gave way to rolling green fields. “What
have you planted here?” she asked. The plants were nothing like the
orderly grain fields she’d expected. These were bushy with twisted,
sprawling stems and an abundance of leaves.
“Green manure.”
She wrinkled her nose.
“What?”
“Seriously. Part of organic farming is
to use natural methods to enrich the soil instead of chemical
fertilizer. This is a field of alfalfa. It has very long roots that
bring minerals up to the topsoil from deep in the earth. And it has
the ability to take nitrogen from the air and put that into the
soil too.”
“Don’t they make hay out of this
stuff?”
“Most of the time, but alfalfa’s a
perennial and this field is several years old. Too old to make good
hay. See how it’s got a lot of stems? So instead of harvesting it,
I’m going to wait another week and then plow it under while it’s
still green to enrich the soil even further. Voila, green
manure.”
“So there’s no real manure
involved?”
“No, it’s just a slang term for growing
a crop strictly as fertilizer. Although we do compost real manure
to put back into the soil, but it’ll be a year, maybe two before
it’s ready to use.”
“It really means a lot to you to
convert this farm to organic production.”
Her hand was resting on his arm. He
stared at it a moment then covered it with his own hand as if to
keep it there. “It does. We don’t have to destroy the land in order
to persuade it to feed us. And I feel better eating food that was
produced this way. Other people have other opinions of
course.”
Jillian looked up at him, studied his
face. “You really believe in what you’re doing, and I like that. I
like the way you care about the land, and I like the way you care
about the animals. I guess that means I like you.”
She’d succeeded in surprising him, yet
shouldn’t he look pleased or happy or something? Maybe he wasn’t as
interested as Birkie thought he was. Oh great, now
he’s frowning. Maybe coming here was a huge
mistake.
Or maybe not.
James was still frowning, but his powerful hands had slid around
her, gently gathering her in. He lowered his face to hers, eyes
open as if to gauge her reaction. Jillian reached up to tangle her
fingers in his white-blond hair and met his lips with her own. She
poured herself into the kiss, felt the thrill of it vibrate through
both of them. She felt reckless, exhilarated, as if she were
leaping from a great height into a deep pool.
But the water wasn’t still. Powerful
currents rocked her, an ocean of sensation carried her along at
dizzying speed. Each time she tried to surface, James changed the
angle of the kiss and pulled her under. His lips were hot over
hers, soft but relentless. Jillian had one hand still fisted in
James’s hair, the other gripping his shoulder as he simply flowed
into her system like the tide. She had tried to meet the kiss as
she met everything else in her life, head on, trusting her own
strength and mind and skill to prevail. But they were useless tools
here. The tide was too powerful, the water too deep and fast, the
inescapable pull of an undertow drawing her steadily towards the
silky bottom. With James. She sighed and sank willingly into the
nameless, sweet sea.
James felt her sigh shiver right
through him, felt the subtle shift in her, a yielding. He wanted
her, wanted to feel her skin against his, wanted to touch and to
taste. The blood was pounding in his head and throbbing in his
groin, as he ran his hands over her, held her tightly to him and
ached to be closer still. His hand found its way under her blouse
and cupped a teacup breast, felt the delicate nipple pressing into
his palm through the silky bra. James shifted, trailed kisses along
the angles of her face and down her throat.
Yes, yes, yes.
With a start he realized he wasn’t alone. The wolf was present and
it was eager. Eager to have him claim Jillian fully.
No. With
difficulty, James pulled back. God, he wanted nothing more than to
continue what he was doing. But he wasn’t about to give in to the
wolf’s plans for his life, or do something that might eventually
endanger Jillian. And so he pulled back while he still could. He
smoothed her blouse back into place and rubbed his hands up and
down her upper arms. He was about to say he had work to do and she
probably did too and maybe she should go—but those sea green eyes,
still dreamy with arousal, were looking up at him. “Maybe we should
continue our tour,” he heard himself say.
“Maybe we should.”
Her lips curved. They were still soft
and full from kissing, and he very nearly bent his head to capture
them again. But he could feel the wolf within and would not let it
have its way. Dared not. If he kissed her again right now, he
couldn’t stop himself a second time. A horse nickered nearby,
penetrating James’s awareness, and James seized upon it like a life
preserver. He tore his gaze away from those green eyes and looked
out over the fields. If he didn’t look at her, didn’t fall into her
eyes again, maybe he’d be okay. Still, he had to clear his throat
twice to get his voice to work properly. “If you’d like to see some
of the rest of the farm, we could go back and get the truck.” His
hands were still on her shoulders but he held her away from him.
Not much—maybe an inch or two—but it gave him a chance to breathe.
“Or we could ride. It’s a good day for it. You like horses,
right?”
“I love working with horses—but I don’t
know how to ride.”
“What? You’re kidding, right?”
Genuinely shocked, he forgot his intentions and looked down at
her.
Jillian shrugged. “I grew up in the
city, so I was never really exposed to them. And then when I went
to veterinary college, believe me, I was too busy learning about
their inner workings to learn how to ride them. I always wanted to
learn, though.”
“No time like the present.” He was
relieved to find he could let go of her now. His brain was even
starting to work—probably getting some blood flow again. James took
a couple steps away and whistled shrilly, a four-note sound
guaranteed to carry.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling Charlie.”
“One of the horses? But aren’t they in
the corral?”
“Not for long.”
Jillian started to say something, but
James had a finger to his lips. Moments passed. With his Changeling
hearing, the sounds of hoofbeats were immediately audible. But it
didn’t take long for Jillian to hear them, too. A pale horse with a
riot of spots and speckles in his coat rounded the last shed and
trotted toward them. An enormous gray draft horse and a trio of
chubby ponies followed him. They milled around James like big dogs
eager for play.
“Somebody knows how to open gates.”
Jillian chuckled.
But James didn’t reply right away. He
watched in fascination as she patted and stroked the glossy coats
with both hands, grinning as velvet noses nuzzled her. The serious
veterinarian was gone, and in her place was someone nearly bursting
with childlike delight. She laughed out loud as the draft horse
nudged her a little too hard with his massive nose and sent her
skidding on her butt in the dirt.
James laughed then too and reached a
hand for her. She expected him to pull her to her feet. Instead he
picked her up and tossed her, wide-eyed, onto the back of the
culprit.
“Omigod, he’s huge. I’m going to get a
nosebleed up here.” But she didn’t ask to get down. Her hands were
already running over the dappled gray neck, winding through the
silky white mane. “What’s his name?”
“Toby. And he is
huge. He’s over eighteen hands high. I think his head alone weighs
as much as you do.” James eyed her speculatively. “Maybe a bit
more.”
She sniffed at that and leaned further
over Toby’s neck to pet him. “So does Charlie break out
regularly?”
“Whenever we ask him to. Sometimes when
we don’t. Charlie can open every gate and door in the place, lets
his friends out too sometimes as you can see.”
“You must spend a lot of time rounding
up animals.”
“Nope. Charlie does that. He’s an
incredible cow-horse, best I’ve ever seen. More like a big sheep
dog really.” James scratched the Appaloosa behind the ears. “He
can’t carry much weight with those legs of his—see how the front
ones bow out?—but he doesn’t need to be ridden. He brings the cows
in when we tell him to, or singles out the ones we need to work on,
all on his own.”
“But the other horses—”
“Will stay with him. He’s not the
biggest, but he’s the herd leader and they don’t stray. We’re going
to take our tour of the rest of the farm, and they’ll all just
follow us.”
“They will?” That was as far as Jillian
got before James suddenly vaulted up in one smooth cat-like motion
and settled in close behind her, chuckling at her openmouthed
surprise. “Practice,” he answered before she could ask. Although he
knew there were few if any humans who could mount a horse of Toby’s
size without stirrups and from a standing start, no matter how much
they practiced. Being a Changeling had some pretty good
perks.
He waited for the next question as he
nudged Toby forward. She didn’t disappoint him. “Hold it, we don’t
have a bridle or reins or—”
“Don’t need them, doc. Toby is used to
being guided by legs alone.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Ask Connor. He rides just like
this all the time. So does Kenzie when she comes out to
visit.”
“Your sister does this?”
“Uh-huh. She’s pretty good at it, been
teaching Zoey too. I can teach you if you like. So you don’t ride
at all?” He was still surprised by that.
“Not a bit.” She was accustomed to
treating horses, not riding them, with both of her feet firmly on
the ground. “I’ve sat on a horse inside a corral once or twice, but
that’s all.”
“Well, then there’ll be a whole bunch
of things you won’t have to unlearn.”
Jillian surveyed her mount and ventured
to lean over the side. “Toby is tall and broad and gray all over.
Are you sure he isn’t an elephant? I think I should take lessons on
something a lot closer to the ground.”
James laughed and brushed a kiss on top
of her head, dared to nuzzle her wayward blond hair and enjoyed the
scent of it. “You can try riding one of the ponies later if you
want. For now, just pretend Toby is a tour bus and enjoy the ride.”
He wrapped an arm around her waist and nudged Toby into a brisk
trot, chuckled as Jillian scrabbled to wind her hands into the
horse’s mane. “I won’t let you fall, doc, I promise.
Relax.”
She glared back at him. “I’m perched on
top of a tour bus with no visible means of control. It’s a little
tough to feel safe.”
“Trust me.”
“I’ll try.”
He smiled at the hesitation in her
voice, then moved Toby into an easy gallop. “Wait, wait,
wait,” she squealed.
“I told you to trust me,” he said with
his lips near her ear.
“You didn’t tell me you were going to
go fast.” She had a death grip on Toby’s mane.
“Believe me, this is easier on you than
a trot. See how you’re not bouncing now?” He put his hands over
hers. “Look, give me your hands. Let me hold them while you relax
and feel how to move with the horse.”
“You mean let go? Are you
nuts?”
“I’m not hanging on to anything and I’m
okay,” he pointed out. “It’s balance, Jillian. You know all about
balance from whatever martial art it is that you
practice.”
“How did you know about
that?”
“Your reflexes. And that power punch to
the gut at the clinic. Not to mention that little battle in the
loft we had—those little fists of yours really drill between the
ribs. So what is it exactly that you practice?”
“Tae Kwon Do.”
“Belt?”
“Blue with a red stripe. It’s a little
past intermediate. I’m hoping to test for red belt in the
fall.”
He nodded appreciatively. “Okay then,
you know plenty about balance. So you can do this. Trust me and let
go. Trust yourself.” They were doing a large loping circle around
the field now, with Charlie and the ponies following close behind.
When Jillian still hesitated, James pressed his very best button.
“You’re not afraid, are you?”
Her fingers released the mane at once,
and he had to stifle a laugh. Instead he held her hands, marveling
anew at how small they were, seemingly too small to have knocked
the wind from him after that first kiss in the clinic. He brushed
his thumbs over the palms, then held her hands out from her sides.
“Close your eyes, doc. Pretend Toby’s a circus horse.”
“I thought he was a tour
bus.”
“That’s just his day job. Now he’s a
circus horse and we’re the performers.” James was surprised and
pleased when she closed her eyes at once, when she lifted her hands
free from his and held her arms straight out. He rested his hands
lightly on her waist then and used his legs to direct Toby into
intricate patterns and paces. Jillian never faltered. She had a
natural grace, would make an excellent rider.
“It’s kind of like flying,” she said at
last. “You were right about closing my eyes. It’s amazing how not
being able to see where I’m going actually helps me find my
balance. Must be a Zen thing.”
“Must be.” He knew it was Jillian and
not Zen that was affecting his own inner stability, however. She
both knocked him off-balance and grounded him, simply by being near
him. It was a volatile mix, and if he wasn’t a lot more careful, he
would fall.