Murphy patted his pocket, and with equine pride the yearling tossed his head and approached.

“You’re a fine one, aren’t you? Good lad.” He chuckled, stroking the yearling’s flank as the horse nuzzled at the pocket, and the others walked his way. “Not above bribery. Here then.” He took a chunk of the apples he’d quartered and let the colt eat out of his hand. “I’m thinking you’re going on a fine adventure today. I’ll miss you.” He stroked, automatically checking the colt’s knees. “Damned if I won’t. But lazing in pasture all day isn’t what you were born for. And all of us have to do what we were meant to do.”

He greeted the other horses, sharing the bits of apple, then with his arm slung around the yearling’s neck, he gazed over the land. Harebells and bluebells were springing up wild, and the madwort was beginning to bloom yellow beside the near wall. He could see his silo, and the barn, the cabins, the house beyond, looking like a picture against a sky of layered clouds.

Past noon, he judged, and considered going in for a cup of tea before his business appointment. Then he looked west, just beyond the stone dance, away by the wall that separated grazing from grain.

And there she was.

His heart stumbled in his chest. He wondered if it would always be so when he saw her. It was a stunning thing for a man who had gone more than thirty years without feeling more than a passing interest in a woman to see one, once, and know without doubt that she was his fate.

The wanting was there, a churning deep that made him long to touch and taste and take. He thought he could, with a careful and patient approach. For she wasn’t indifferent to him. He’d felt her pulse leap, and seen the change that was desire slip into her eyes.

But the love was there, deeper yet than the wanting. And stranger, he thought now, as it seemed to have been there always, waiting. So it would not be enough to touch, to taste, to take. That would only be a beginning.

“But you have to begin to go on, don’t you?” Murphy gave the yearling a last caress, then walked over the pasture.

Shannon saw him coming. Indeed, she’d been distracted from her work when he’d come among the horses. It had been like a play, she thought, the man and the young horse, both exceptional specimens, passing a few moments together in a green field.

She’d known, too, the exact moment when he’d seen her. The distance hadn’t kept her from feeling the power of the look. What does he want from me? she asked herself as she went back to the canvas she’d started.

What do I want from him?

“Hello, Murphy.” She continued to paint as he came to the wall that separated them. “Brianna said you wouldn’t mind if I worked here for a while.”