Holding his gaze, she silently urged the horse to relax, giving him no reason to fear her. Heart pounding, she stepped inside his pen. King backed up anxiously, terror flashing in his gaze. She willed him to trust her, and gradually the trust came in the form of a soulful nicker. And then Caitlan knew, the perception so strong her animal sense tapped into the source of the stallion's anguish.

"Oh, you sweet, sweet thing. You're not dangerous, are you, boy?" she said, her throat thick with sorrow. "Someone's been abusing you. I'll make it better, I promise, but you've got to let me get close so I can help you."

After a long, tense minute King's Ransom took a tentative step forward.


J.T. pushed his chair back, stood, and stretched his stiff muscles. His body ached more from sitting in one position for hours, bending over a desk and pushing a pencil, than it would have if he'd ridden out with the boys today. He'd accomplished a lot, but he still needed to take inventory of supplies, and that would take a good day or two, considering the task had been neglected for far too long.

Right now, though, he needed a break.

Leaving the office, he found the house quiet and Paula gone, as was her daily routine. She'd be back to prepare dinner for the family later that afternoon, when Laura returned from school.

Walking through the kitchen and living room and finding them empty, J.T. wondered where Caitlan was. As much as he tried to convince himself he didn't want to have anything to do with her, he couldn't stop thinking about her warm, sweet response to him last night before he'd pushed her further than she'd been ready to go. He'd wanted her badly, but he wasn't such a brute that he'd take her by force or without setting down his ground rules first. And she'd clearly made her decision when she'd bolted from his room. He told himself it was for the best, but that didn't stop him from desiring her in a way that made him restless and edgy.

Rolling his shoulders to relieve the taut muscles there, he headed for the barn, deciding to take Quinn out for a run. The door to the structure was open, and he frowned as he stepped inside. His men knew better than to leave the barn door unsecured.

Caitlan's voice drifted to him from down the corridor. Soft. Gentle. Cajoling. Curious, he silently followed the sound of her murmured words and froze when he saw exactly where she was. In King's Ransom's stall. His heart hammered in his chest. Thinking of what the powerful, schizophrenic stallion was capable of doing when spooked, stark fear congealed the blood in his veins. His mind raced with ways to get Caitlan safely out of the pen without alarming King. Any sudden moves would put Caitlan in danger. And if he didn't get her out of there soon, chances were King would snap out of the trance she seemed to have him in and turn wild and possibly harm her.

Caitlan inched subtly forward, deeper into the stall. King's ears flattened back and he whinnied, the sound laced with uncertainty. His hoof pawed the ground, yet something in the beast's eyes softened as he watched Caitlan, as if he wanted to trust her.

"You know I won't hurt you, don't you, pretty boy?" Slowly stretching her hand toward King, Caitlan uncurled her fingers and revealed the treat in her palm. "Look. I've got some sugar cubes for you. You only need to come get them."

Hell, the fool woman was trying to sweet-talk the animal into submission. And if J.T. didn't know better, he'd think King was considering the offering in Caitlan's hand. But J.T. did know better, and despite how calm the stallion seemed, it would only take a movement to trigger a tantrum that could kill Caitlan if she didn't get out of the stall in time.

Shoving his apprehension aside, J.T. moved stealthily into the doorway. King's gaze darted in his direction and he snorted. Caitlan, absorbed in her task, didn't glance back.

"Come on, King," she coaxed in a low purr. "Come get the sugar cubes."

Praying Caitlan wouldn't resist his efforts, and King wouldn't charge at them, J.T. moved fast. Lunging into the stall, he grabbed Caitlan's arm in an iron grip and jerked her out through the doorway. Caitlan gasped in surprise just as King reared back on his hind legs and pawed at the air.

Shutting the door, J.T. turned and backed a wide-eyed Caitlan into the wall, pinning her there with his hands on either side of her head. His initial fear for her safety dissolved into anger that she'd been so careless as to approach an animal like King without thinking of the repercussions.

"What the hell do you think you're doing in King's stall?" he demanded, his tone smoldering with fury.

Now that his surprise attack was over, her chin lifted a notch and she shot him a look of annoyance. "Relax."

"Relax?" Pushing off the wall, J.T. raked a hand through his hair, unable to believe she was perturbed at himfor taking her out of a potentially deadly situation. "King could tear you apart, stomp all over you and kill you, and youwant me to relax? I don't even go into his stall. It would be like committing suicide. Look at him." He waved a hand toward King, who punctuated J.T.'s words by kicking fiercely at the stall with his hind legs.

Pacing away from her, he dragged in a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. The clenching in his stomach subsided, and his pulse returned to normal. But deep, deep inside, past all the superficial stuff, he still felt jittery and a little provoked.

Damn! Face it, Rafferty. You aren't so angry at Caitlan as you are with your reaction to seeing her in King's stall. Fear. Helplessness. He cared too much, and caring was an emotion he didn't want to have anything to do with.

He whirled to face her. She hadn't moved, her eyes watching him as if he were a snake getting ready to strike. "I'm sorry," he said, the words sounding rusty, but he felt he owed her an apology for his rough handling of moments before. "You didn't know any better, but dammit, he's unpredictable and dangerous and my only thought was to get you out of his stall in one piece." Scrubbing a hand over his jaw, he resumed his agitated pacing. "Feeding him sugar cubes, of all things! You could have been seriously hurt."

Caitlan pushed off the wall and passed him. At first he thought she was going to walk out on him, but then she stopped in front of King's stall, staring through the slats at the stallion until he quieted.

Her ability to reach the stallion without words unnerved J.T. She crossed her arms over her chest and glanced back at him, her brows drawn over her eyes in consternation. "If he's so dangerous, why did you buy him?"

Sighing, J.T. came to her side. "Because I'd hoped I could break him."

"He's a beautiful animal," she said softly.

Caitlan's gentle serenity whispered to J.T., filling a void in him. He wondered if that was how King felt when she was near. Maybe that was why the animal responded so well to her. "Quite honestly, King wasn't this wild when I first bought him. He was a little spirited, which I liked, but he's gotten progressively worse over the months." He glanced down at Caitlan, looking into her upturned face. "I'm surprised you got as close as you did without him taking a chunk out of you."

She chewed on her lower lip, and he read the hesitation swirling in her violet eyes. Finally, she said, "Someone's been spooking him."

He lifted a brow, her declaration making him uneasy. "After five minutes in King's stall you came to that conclusion?" He forced an amused note to his voice. "I suppose King told you that while you were in his stall? Whispered it in your ear, maybe?"

She glanced away, but not before he saw her annoyance at his teasing remark. "I have… a way with animals," she explained, her attention drawn to the sugar cubes that were beginning to crystalize in her palm. "Your stallion is very spirited by nature, but he has some symptoms of being mistreated."

Her words were spoken with such conviction, he wondered if he should be insulted. "You're not insinuating I mistreat my animals, are you?"

Her gaze flew to his, her lips pursed. "Of course not. You're far too gentle and caring to abuse anything or anyone."

He jammed his hands on his hips, impatient and unsettled by all her observations. "Is my stallion marked?"

"No, not physically."

The woman was a witch, J.T. thought. Or an animal psychologist, if there was even such a thing. In so many words she was telling him that King was scarred emotionally. What a crock! He shook his head, retaining the urge to laugh off this whole verbal exchange. "You're crazy, you know that, lady? I'm going to just forget we ever had this weird conversation." He turned and started for the door. At the last minute he stopped and glanced back at her. "And stay out of his stall, Caitlan."

Caitlan watched J.T. slip out of the barn; then she moved to King's stall. She knew her comments about King's emotional abuse sounded strange to J.T., but she had no concrete evidence with which to back up her claim; only this strong sense she shared with the stallion.

Looking through the slats, she met King's gaze and knew in that moment that the stallion trusted her. "Good boy," she murmured, smiling. "I have a feeling you and I are going to become good friends."

Chapter Six

At three in the morning, after two hours spent with King, forming a fragile trust, Caitlan slipped quietly into the ranch house and up the stairs to the guest bedroom. Everyone had been asleep for hours, and she was careful not to make any loud noises as she shrugged out of her jacket and pulled off her boots.

Caitlan was pleased with the open way King had responded to her. With time and care J.T. would be able to fully enjoy the stallion's spirit, without the threat of the horse being dangerous. She couldn't help but wonder who was spooking King, and why.

More exhilarated than tired, Caitlan changed into her nightshirt, grabbed her sketch pad and pencil from the dresser drawer, and went back downstairs to cozy up in her spot in the livingroom window seat. Drawing up her knees slightly for a table, she rested the pad on her thighs. Tonight she was too keyed up to lay down.

Thumbing past the disturbing sketch of the young boy she'd drawn last night, Caitlan started on a clean sheet of paper, consciously sketching a picture of J.T. astride King to keep herself occupied. The contours of J.T.'s handsome face came easily to her, and as the image came to life, each feature at a time, a warm, shimmering sensation settled in her belly. Familiar images once again touched the edges of her memory. She closed her eyes to probe deeper, searching valiantly for the link to these visions.

Strangely, the fragrance of a spring afternoon surrounded Caitlan, and the sensation of a warm breeze wafted across her skin. The sky above the beautiful meadow was cloudless. She heard the chirp of birds, and two orange butterflies fluttered past. The sound of giggles and boyish laughter reached Caitlan's ears; then she saw them in her mind. The boy she'd drawn last night was playfully chasing the blond-haired girl, deliberately allowing her to take the lead. Caitlan realized with sudden clarity that the boy was J.T., at about the age of fifteen. Why hadn't she noticed the resemblance in her drawing? And what significance did the girl hold to her visions?

J.T. chased the girl, closing in on her as they neared a stream and a large shady tree. The girl taunted him over her shoulder, daring him to catch her. One last long stride and he tackled her gently to the soft carpet of grass, her squeal of surprise rending the air.

"I gotcha!" he said, smiling down at her.

She gave him an upswept look, much too sultry for a girl so young. "So what're you gonna do about it?"

"This."

Caitlan watched in her mind as J.T.'s fingers fluttered over every ticklish spot on the girl's body. Impossible as it seemed, Caitlan's body began to tingle, as if she was being tickled, and she had the strangest urge to laugh along with J.T. and the girl. The young girl's gales of laughter filled the meadow and she gasped for breath, begging him to stop the torture.

"Say the magic words," J.T. coaxed, all the while his fingers were finding every vulnerable area-her neck, under her arm, her waist, just above the knee.

"I love you," she said breathlessly, then grew serious when J.T. stopped tickling her. She stared up at him, eyes shining with adoration. "I love you, Johnny."

"Much better," he murmured, a grin of satisfaction curving his mouth. All play vanished, replaced by a sensual hunger. "Now kiss me, Mandy." Lowering his head, he dropped his mouth over hers.