Happily Ever Afters Guaranteed (12 page)

Okay, the russet sideburns bracketed a pair
of ice-blue eyes that squinted just a bit in the harsh sunlight.
And a strong, straight nose. But most of all, it was the angular
jaw with just a hint of dark stubble that captivated my
attention.

Wow.

I must've been staring because one
well-shaped brow lifted and the crow’s feet around this stranger’s
eyes gained just a bit more definition.

“H-hello,” I managed to stammer, pushing the
words past the breath stuck in my throat. I tried to stand,
thinking maybe that would give me some perspective.

Somehow my feet were wrapped in the skirt
again and I couldn’t get them to obey me. A warm hand under my
elbow contrasted with the cool outdoor air and I couldn’t help
noticing the strength that easily assisted me to my feet.

At least, my pulse noticed because it hummed
in my ears.

“Th-thank you.” Get ahold of yourself,
girl.

The man didn’t seem to notice my discomfort.
He nodded, unsmiling, and glanced back at the smithy’s
building.

His fine clothing, obviously cut and tailored
to enhance his muscular build, made me intensely conscious of the
faded fabric that made up the dress I wore. Who was he? What was he
doing here?

Part of me wanted to know if he’d felt the
same spark of connection when he touched me. The other part, the
part that remembered the look on Jared’s face when he told me he
wasn’t in love with me anymore, reminded me not-so-gently of
everything I’d lost.

The warmth I'd felt just seconds ago faded
away like the smoke that dissipated above the smithy.

“I have a problem that demands the services
of a farrier.”

Ignoring the tremble that went through me at
the deep timbre of his voice, my mind raced on to the covering of
dust covering everything inside the building. No one had worked
there in some time. “I—I’m not sure where he is.” I tried to sound
firm but my voice came out all breathy. I cleared my throat.

“Do you know when he will return? My gelding
has thrown a shoe and I have an errand that must be attended to
today.”

A glance behind him revealed a well-muscled
bay with a white blaze and stockings grazing in the sweet-smelling
grass. I couldn't help but admire it. “What a beautiful
animal.”

He waved toward the building. “The forge has
been fired. I dare say the blacksmith won’t be gone long.”

I swallowed. There was no real reason to keep
stalling. I should tell him I had started the forge.

But…

What if I could shoe the horse and make some
cash? The conversation I’d overhead earlier told me that my
so-called sister worried about food. If we had some money, it would
get me a few more days in the cottage to figure out how to get
home. My stomach rumbled as if in agreement.

Now if I could just convince the handsome…
well, I didn’t know his name.

“You know, I believe the blacksmith would be
happy to shoe your horse, Mr.…”

His broad shoulders straightened and his blue
eyes flickered to me, then away again. “Forgive me. I am Mr.
Howarth.”

“Matilda—” I struggled for the correct
surname, finally recalling the one that graced the notes from the
trunk. “Matilda Briggs.”

I stuck out my hand for him to shake.
Instead, he bowed low over it.

Oh.

I was probably supposed to curtsy or
something. Fear of tripping on my skirt again held me still. I
smiled, hoping that would do. He frowned, avoiding my eyes. Was he
purposely being stuffy?

Irked, I strove for a professional voice. “If
you would be so kind as to leave your horse, I’ll be sure to tell
him-- uh, the farrier, as soon as he comes back.”

Mr. Howarth’s frown deepened. What bothered
him so much? “I would prefer to stay.”

Intuitively, I knew that if Mr. Howarth knew
I would be shoeing his horse, he wouldn’t agree. I needed to get
rid of him, and fast.

“He, uh… likes to work without
interruption.”

He raised a skeptical brow.

“He's very solitary, you know. He doesn’t
like anyone to watch him work.” My neck burned at the untruth that
sprang so easily from my lips.

Mr. Howarth looked as if he would make
another comment, but to my surprise he nodded and turned to leave.
I stood for a moment, watching his slight swagger as he strode
away.

With a sigh, I gave a gentle tug on the reins
of his horse. The docile animal followed me to the building and
stood while I tied him off to a post that seemed to have been built
for that purpose.

I found a heavy leather apron beneath the
table that held most of the smithy's implements and got lost for a
moment imagining who might've used it before me. As I pulled it on,
its scent pulled me back home to the last horse I’d shod.

The day before I left for university, an old
friend called with a problem horse that I’d dealt with a few times
successfully. Jared had shown up as I finished the horse.

We’d dated casually a few times during high
school, and I could still remember the shiver of delight that
snaked through me as he’d stood watching in the doorway with his
arms crossed.

“Aren’t you glad you won’t have to do this
for a living any more?”

I shrugged, not sure why his words bothered
me. Pretended they didn’t. “I like working with my aunt.”

“Yeah, but you’ll make a killing as a vet.
Think of all those people with little lapdogs who need flea
medication.”

I swallowed the urge to tell him that I
planned to specialize in equine surgery. I desperately wanted a
special internship they only offered to one student a year, and had
mapped out the next three years of my life in order to get it.

Jared joined me as I loaded the tools into
the special chest my aunt used to carry them from job to job. He
tossed a small pick into the air and caught it in a fluid motion.
“You’re so different from the girls I usually date.”

I couldn’t read him well enough to know if he
meant that as a compliment or a concern. So I didn’t say
anything.

He brushed a hand against my shoulder, then
his fingers came up to caress my cheek. “I just think you’ll be so
much happier when you get to be a real woman, not your aunt’s
apprentice.”

I shook my head to dispel the memories,
tightening my hold on the hammer.

Who was Jared to tell me what I should want
out of life anyway? I’d thought he understood me, wanted my dreams
to come true.

Obviously, I’d been wrong.

Now, I relished the familiar actions of
measuring and filing the gelding's hoof. I was surprised at how
clean and well-maintained it was. It appeared Mr. Howarth did an
exceptional job at caring for this horse.

The dip and pound of the hammer as I adjusted
the horseshoe came back to me as if I hadn’t spent the last four
years in a classroom instead of the forge. Although my muscles
began to ache more quickly than when I’d worked with Aunt Donna
every day.

Midway through the shoe, my hair fell down
around my shoulders. I paused to tie it up with a leather thong
found in one of the drawers. Fine wisps of hair escaped my
makeshift ponytail; I shrugged and reminded myself that I wasn’t
trying to look pretty for anyone.

I swung the hammer again. The clang of metal
against anvil was a song from my childhood and I found myself
humming along. Each time I moved through the arc of the hammer's
swing, reused muscles I hadn’t thought of in years, I took back a
little bit of myself.

I liked smithing.

And if I couldn’t find a way to get home, I
could be happy making a living this way. The realization didn’t
stun me. It felt right. Working with horses was my true first love,
and it felt good to return to it.

I finished the shoe and was examining the
other three hooves to make sure none needed maintenance when a
shriek from the doorway made me whirl. My skirt billowed around me.
I caught sight of Minerva’s angry countenance at the same time as
the horse whinnied and reared. From the corner of my eye I watched
the rope I had tied it off with snap. I covered my head with my arm
and ducked so I would present the smallest target. Even though I
braced for an impact, it surprised me when it came from behind me
and sent me sprawling to my knees, out of harm’s way.

“Whoa, boy.”

I looked up to see Mr. Howarth grasp the
gelding’s bridle and attempt to calm his horse. Minerva rushed to
my side and grabbed my arm. “What do you think you’re doing?” she
hissed.

I struggled to my feet, brushing myself off.
Not good. I needed to get rid of Minerva before she ruined
everything.

“I’d like to know the same thing.” Mr.
Howarth’s back remained to us as he rubbed the gelding's shoulder.
The gelding’s head bobbed and I could see the whites of his eyes
from where I stood. Mr. Howarth’s voice was cool. “Where is the
farrier?”

Really, really not good.

Minerva glanced at Mr. Howarth in confusion
and back at me. “What on earth were you doing? Why are you wearing
that apron?”

Mr. Howarth’s eyes met mine from over his
shoulder, shooting daggers.

“That is a most interesting question. I
cannot wait to hear the answer myself.”

Quickly, I shirked the apron, tossing it to
the side. Well, here goes nothing. “I was finishing up.”

Minerva frowned. “Finishing what?”

“Shoeing the horse,” I muttered.

Minerva’s gasp echoed loud in the sudden
stillness. Before she could say anything else, approaching
hoofbeats announced the presence of another.

“Halloo.” A silhouette of a man blocked the
sunlight streaming through the doorway. He stepped forward and
flashed a broad smile at myself and Minerva. A shock of carrot-red
hair fell into his dancing hazel eyes. “There you are, Andrew.”

Mr. Howarth did not respond. He’d already
moved to the gelding’s foot and bent to examine it. Pride puffed
out my chest.

“I see you’ve made some new acquaintances.”
The shorter, stockier man bowed in the direction of where Minerva
and I stood. She had the grace to curtsy but I was too focused on
Mr. Howarth’s reaction to do anything.

“Won’t you introduce us?”

Mr. Howarth only grunted, now touching the
new shoe.

The other man stepped inside and approached
us. “Forgive my cousin’s manners. He is a bit obsessive about his
horses. Mr. McCullough, at your service.” Upon closer inspection,
the family resemblance was visible. Mr. McCullough had the same
nose and facial structure as Mr. Howarth. Though he certainly
seemed to smile more.

Minerva seemed embarrassed or reserved, I
couldn’t tell which. She didn’t offer an introduction, so I did the
honors. Mr. McCullough bowed a second time, and when he
straightened, his eyes lingered on Minerva, who had gone an
interesting shade of pink and now avoided his gaze.

“You did this?” Mr. Howarth’s stern tone
startled me and I turned back to where he stood, in front of the
gelding. He wasn’t smiling. Hadn’t he looked at the shoe? Didn’t he
see the craftsmanship?

I couldn’t help the raise of my chin.
“Yes.”

He scratched his head. He lifted the hoof
again, squatting this time. What was he looking for? The shoe was
perfect.

“Your horse isn’t the first I’ve shod, you
know.”

“Matilda!” Minerva gripped my arm so hard
that I almost cried out. “She’s not— she didn’t—” She passed her
hands over her face. “Our father—”

Both men exchanged a glance.

“You aren’t related to Mr. Briggs, of
Burnley, by chance?” Mr. McCullough asked. “He speaks often of his
handsome nieces, but I don’t believe his descriptions do you
justice.”

Minerva’s color was slowly coming back. She
cleared her throat. “Yes, actually. We’re expecting a coach from
him any day.”

“I’m afraid you’ll be waiting for quite some
time. Your uncle is out of the country.”

Minerva gasped at hearing Mr. Howarth’s cold
words. The sound was so soft I don’t know that either of the men
could have heard her.

“Do you know when he is expected to return?”
I asked, when it seemed that Minerva couldn’t find her voice.

“No, Miss Briggs.” Mr. McCullough looked
apologetic. “I believe he had some urgent business to attend
to.”

Minerva’s hand on my arm shook. A surge of
protectiveness for this ancestor made me step in front of her. “If
you would be so kind as to pay for the service rendered, Mr.
Howarth. Then you may be on your way to your business
appointment.”

He knew that my words were meant as a
dismissal. I could see it in the sharpening of his gaze, the
tightening of his mouth. Without a word, he tucked a coin into my
hand. I resisted the urge to look down at it. I wouldn’t know its
value anyway, so I could only pray that he hadn’t cheated me. His
glittering eyes held mine for a second too long before he turned to
his cousin. “Come, Tristan.”

I turned back to Minerva, who still trembled.
“At least we can eat today.”

She didn’t look at the coin I extended to
her, instead staring off into space. “I cannot believe…”

“That I shod a horse? Look, Minnie, I’m not
who you think I am.”

She didn’t move. “They are still outside. I
can hear the horses stamping.”

It grew silent and I could hear the men’s
voices. They were muffled and I couldn’t make out the words, but
one voice raised louder than the other.

A moment later, they both reentered. Mr.
Howarth stood with rigid posture, his jaw clenched. Mr. McCullough
wore a strained smile, but when he spoke he sounded almost
jovial.

“My cousin agrees that we cannot leave the
dear nieces of our family friend in these dire straights. We must
insist you accompany us to Howarth Park until your uncle
returns.”

Chapter 4