Wild Horses (3 page)

The apples!

Kai pulled one out and twisted it in his strong hands, breaking it in half. He held it out on his palm, just like he saw the little boy hold the treat earlier in the day. The horse sniffed it, then engulfed it in his large mouth, making short work of it with his massive teeth. The treat gone, Vermillion pushed his nose into Kai’s face, and Kai smelled his sweet, horsey scent and his sweat, and for the first time in ages, he felt a sense of soothing comfort. Daring greatly, he lifted his hands and stroked the strong neck, feeling the strong muscles all the way up to Vermillion’s ears. He heard the horse huff and shy off, but he didn’t let him go.

“Shhh…’t’s okay. I’ll give you another, see?” Kai fished in the pocket of his hoodie, pulled out another substantial part of his dinner, and offered it, thrilled to see it accepted, flattered to feel the warm neck lean into him. There was such comfort in it. He had never felt anything like it before. He wanted more, suddenly, and a reckless impulse had him climb the fence and share Vermillion’s space. He knew this was probably a bad idea, but he had so little to lose and such pleasure to gain.

Vermillion whickered and ran off a bit before he pranced back. Kai grinned; the horse wanted to play and he could oblige him. Not only that, but the horse trough had water in it, and if the horse let him, Kai could appease his unbearable thirst and drink his fill. He shrugged out of his hoodie, taking the apple out and tossing the sweltering garment over the fence. He broke the apple again, gaining Vermillion’s attention by blowing a soft whistle. As he held the treat on the palm of his hand, Vermillion came and ate it. He then head-butted Kai so hard Kai landed straight on his ass.

“Hell no! Don’t do that!” He called after the horse and hauled himself to his feet, lumbering up the hill to the watering trough.

A
TTILA
had Sen work intricate lead changes with the level of concentration only he and his white horse could muster. The arena was all his, and in its calm silence, he could finally focus on analyzing the nuances of Sen’s gait. The mirror that spanned the length of the wall showed his mount’s perfect extension as his front legs skipped on an even beat. He almost smiled. Then he heard the first whinny.

Vermillion seemed to have detected their unexpected guest. Attila cantered around the arena three times, letting his horse blow off a bit of steam before they reversed directions, working the precise steps again.

Outside, Vermillion whinnied again and snorted, and Attila picked up the sound of a human voice answering back.

He frowned. His newest horse appeared to be incorrigible. He had a bad habit of biting, he kicked, and he didn’t care for having a saddle on his back whatsoever. The stranger could get hurt. Hopefully he didn’t get too close….

Then there was an exclamation. The young horse outside neighed again—then Attila heard his hoofs beat a rapid cadence.

Lips pressed into a thin line and his brows drawn together in concern, Attila rode out of the covered arena and toward the fence. Stunned, he saw a broad, bare back half-covered with long, rust-colored hair. Its owner struggled his way up the hill toward a watering trough, with the young stallion running circles around him. The horse, blood red in the light of the setting sun, gave the man a playful shove in the back, and the man sprawled on the ground. Attila saw the man try to get up, but Vermillion stepped around him and bent his neck down, nosing his shoulder with an inquisitive whicker. The stranger was on his way to his feet when Vermillion bent his right foreleg, inadvertently kicking his new playmate in the head.

The man fell and didn’t move.

Attila saw the horse paw the ground and neigh, then run down the hill toward him. Vermillion’s eyes rolled in distress; his call was a brash sound of alarm. Sen gathered himself under Attila, ready for action. Attila asked him to go. They cantered around the small courtyard to pick up speed and aimed at the fence. The expert rider felt the white horse’s power gather under his legs as he raised out of the saddle and pressed his heels down into the jump, absorbing the landing in his loose joints. Attila let Sen canter up the hill toward the prone body, where he slid out of the saddle and knelt next to the fallen man.

Attila reached his hand toward the stranger’s shoulder, a sudden hesitation making him pause before he touched his sun-kissed skin. Heart in his throat, he turned him over. The man’s angular face was covered in filth but even so, it was apparent the thief was younger than him by several years. His torso and arms were strong and bore evidence of an active lifestyle, and there was an intricate Celtic tattoo on his shoulder. The shorts he almost wore were tattered, but the oft-repaired pocket had something in it. Hoping for a form of identification, Attila slid his hand in. Loose bills and coins—over forty dollars—shared the pocket with his missing iPhone.

So he had come to return it after all.

Except now, the red-haired punk was passed out in his pasture, and hot to the touch to boot.

Concussion? Heat stroke? Both?

Attila shook the limp shoulder. “Are you all right?” he asked, realizing his question made little sense. The man failed to rouse. He whistled between his teeth, gaining Sen’s attention, and whispered two words. The giant horse knelt, then lay down next to the two men. Attila pulled Kai’s body over his saddle and sat behind him, then asked his horse to rise. As they walked toward the gate, Attila was surprised to see the usually reticent Vermillion walk with them, eyes wide, snorting hot breaths as though full of concern.

“Don’t worry, Vermillion, he will be well taken care of.”

To Attila’s surprise, his soothing voice had no effect. Vermillion would not be left behind. When Attila dismounted and opened the gate for Sen and his unconscious passenger, he barely kept Vermillion from pushing his way out of the paddock.

“No,” Attila said, his voice firm. Vermillion cantered in a circle and jumped over the fence, clearing it with ease. Keeping well away from Sen’s master, he nosed Kai’s prone form on Sen’s other side.

In all his years of training horses, Attila had never seen anything like this before. A horse so stubborn and reticent, so woefully unwilling to take the bit and carry a rider, seemed to have bonded with a perfect stranger. With a thief, no less.

“All right, then,” Attila sighed with an air of resignation. “Have it your way.” He let Vermillion follow.

He steadied the limp body as they descended down the hill. A sprawling bungalow sat in a wide flat not far away from a reedy pond. They passed through the landscaped areas, marring the tended lawn and pristine flowerbeds with hoofprints. When they reached a small swimming pool by the rear patio, Attila pulled his guest off the horse and straight into the shallow end, shorts and all. The water was not too cold, so its temperature should merely cool the man’s system.

He supported the stranger’s head above the water and reached for the phone now residing in his shirt pocket.

“Dr. Russo? … No, not an accident as such … It’s hard to tell whether it’s heat stroke or whether a horse kneed him in the head too hard. Could you come over?” Attila counted himself fortunate to know a local physician who still made house calls. His own call now finished, he placed the cell phone on the chair next to the pool and settled on the shallow steps. He pulled the stranger between his knees, holding him steady. The man’s skin felt hot under his hands. Attila ran a wet hand over his shoulders and neck, gently spreading water. He tried very hard not to notice the stranger’s well-formed physique as he ran his hand over his muscled torso. When he attempted to wash the dirt off the handsome face, he was careful to tune out the vulnerable, closed eyes and the soft lips that just begged to be kissed.

He ignored all that, along with the inconvenient tightness in his wet riding breeches, as he waited for Dr. Russo to arrive.

K
AI
woke up in a silent, dark room, lying under a cool sheet on a comfortable king-size bed. A glance around the room revealed a stand with two bags of clear liquid and a thin, clear tube going down to a needle in his arm. The sight alarmed him. His head hurt and his legs ached something fierce, and his tongue seemed to have been permanently stuck to his palate. Kai attempted to sit up.

“Here….” An unfamiliar voice murmured by his shoulder as someone stacked pillows behind his back. “You can lean back now.”

Kai saw the man come and sit on the side of the bed next to him. He had a smooth face with just a touch of sun on his nose and high cheekbones. The shape of his eyes looked vaguely Asian, but their color was a changeable, stormy blue. He was barefoot, wearing swim trunks and a blue T-shirt, and his dark hair was tied back into a ponytail. Kai realized the last time he saw him up close, this man had been wearing a black tuxedo. This, then, was Attila Keleman.

The man handed Kai a glass of something liquid. “Here is some diluted orange juice.”

Kai nodded his thanks and sipped some, his mouth now regaining its mobility. “Where am I?” he rasped.

“In my bed.” Kai stilled at the words, but before he could fight his blush down, the other man continued. “Vermillion wanted to be able to see you, and the guest bedroom lacks a door opening onto the patio.”

Kai pondered that for a moment. “What happened?”

“Vermillion inadvertently kneed you in the head. That probably didn’t help, considering you were already overheated and dehydrated. You passed out. That was two days ago.”

Oh.

“Did you find your phone in my pocket?” Kai asked. That, after all, was the purpose of his mission.

“Yes. Thank you. You could have just come in.”

Kai looked away.

“I am Attila Keleman. What is your name?”

Kai turned to the owner of this bed, this house, and this land. “Kai. Kai Alewright.”

Attila considered him for a while. “Mr. Alewright, if you have no other commitments, one of my riders got badly injured yesterday. My students help me with the horses, you see. They clean the stables and groom the horses, feed them…. Hal took a bad spill and cracked three vertebrae. He is very lucky—he is in a back brace now, barred from riding and work for three months. Do you think you would be interested in staying here for some time and helping out?”

“You’d let me?” Kai exhaled.

“Yes.”

“You’d trust me?”

“Tell me, Mr. Alewright. Why did you return my phone?”

Remember, you are better than stooping to such acts of petty thievery.

Kai flushed. Nobody had told him anything like that before. At a loss for words, he shrugged, his eyes drifting away.

Attila sighed, taking the empty juice glass away. Their fingers brushed as he did so, and the older man bit back a gasp at their touch. He got up as though stung and turned his back to Kai to look out the window. Soon, Kai heard him break his silence.

“When you feel like getting up, you may shower in that room over there. Then we will move you to the guest room.”

“Y
OU
’
RE
fucking crazy, Keleman. He took your fucking phone, and you let him stay in your house?” Tibor, Attila’s brother-in-law, leaned against the railing of the outdoor corral as they watched young Naomi warm up her horse for a series of jumps. Her blonde hair stuck out from under the black helmet, and her short legs reached barely halfway down the horse’s barrel, but her seat was firm and she was fearless.

“How is Hal?” Attila changed the subject to Tibor’s oldest son.

“Sore.” Tibor watched his daughter canter a half circle and aim her white horse at the smaller set of jumps. “It could have happened to anyone. Brent is jealous of all the attention his brother’s been getting. Annoying little twerp.”

“Send him to me. He can help Kai with the horses.” Attila’s lips tilted up in a hint of a smile. “There is enough work here for a lot more people.”

Naomi trotted her horse up to the railing. “How did I do, Uncle ’Tila?”

“Adequately,” he allowed. “Now go again, but keep his head higher without pulling on the reins. Make it look like a secret magic trick.”

“But he won’t like it, Uncle ’Tila.” The girl-child pouted, big eyes wide.

“If you won’t pull and let him canter as fast as he wants to afterward, that will be his reward. He will do it. You will see.”

They kept observing Naomi’s efforts.

“So you’re keeping that Kai guy around because…?” Tibor asked again.

Attila knew very well why he was keeping Kai around. He was drawn to the man with a strength that resembled fatal attraction, but there was no reason to mention that because nothing would come of it. He, and his steel control, would make sure of that. His effort was merely humanitarian. Anyone would have done the same thing. “I am not certain yet. He… intrigues me. And then there is Vermillion.”

“Tell me again what you saw.”

Attila repeated himself, resenting the necessity to do so.

“Hm.” Tibor chewed on a blade of grass. “Nobody has ridden that horse, ever. What a waste of money—no wonder you got him cheap.”

“I rode him.”

Tibor looked at him, stunned. “For, oh… ten seconds?” Tibor bellowed in laughter. “The kid has no chance, Attila.”

“Still, though,” the shorter man said as he watched his young niece work the course. “I have been bitten, and kicked, and he ran off on me so many times…. It has been months. He should have adjusted by now. He’s the only horse that has ever failed to respond to me. Then this guy shows up—some homeless inner-city kid, driven by a sense of guilt, I suppose—and he climbs right into the paddock, and the damn horse just will not leave his side.”

“So he’s your pet project.”

“Well.” Attila paused, waving Naomi over, trying very hard not to lie. “I am considering the possibility. Mostly… he just might be Vermillion’s last chance.”

A
QUIET
whicker made Kai open his eyes and realize it was midday already. Searching for the source of the sound, he saw the red horse come and press his soft nose against the mosquito screen that blocked the sliding door to the patio.