Occam nickered, a sound of frustrated fear. He was muzzled, Grimm realized. Someone had muzzled his horse and penned him in a deadly trap.
He would never permit his horse to be burned again, and whoever had designed this trap knew him well enough to know his weakness for the stallion. Grimm stood, absolutely motionless, ten paces inside the door—not too far to flee for safety if the hay started to smolder. But Occam was in a locked stall, fifty yards from safety, and therein lay the problem.
A coldhearted man would turn his back and leave. What was a horse, after all? A beast, used for man’s purposes. Grimm snorted. Occam was a regal, beautiful creature, possessing intelligence and the same capacity to suffer pain and fear as any human being.
No, he could never leave his horse behind.
He had barely completed that thought when something hurtled through the window to his left and the straw caught fire in an instant.
Grimm lunged into the flames.
In the coziness of the study, Jillian laughed as she moved her bishop into a position of checkmate. She stole a surreptitious peek toward the window, as she had a dozen times in the past hour, seeking some sign that Grimm had returned. Ever since she’d glimpsed him riding out this morning, she’d been watching for him. The moment Occam’s great gray shape lumbered past the study, Jillian feared she would surge to her feet, giddy as a lass, and be off at a run. Memories of the night she’d spent entangled with Grimm’s hard, inexhaustible body brought a flush to her skin, heating her in a way a fire never could.
“Not fair! How can I concentrate? Playing you when you were a wee lass was far easier,” Quinn complained. “I can’t think when I play you now.”
“Ah, the advantages of being a woman,” Jillian drawled mischievously. She was certain she must be radiating her newfound sensual knowledge. “Is it my fault your attention wanders?”
Quinn’s gaze lingered on her shoulders, bared by the gown she wore. “Absolutely,” he assured her. “Look at you, Jillian. You’re beautiful!” His voice dropped to a confidential tone. “Jillian, lass, there’s something I wish to discuss with you—”
“Quinn, hush.” She placed a finger against his lips and shook her head.
Quinn brushed her hand away. “No, Jillian, I’ve kept my silence long enough. I know what you feel, Jillian.” He paused deliberately to lend emphasis to his next words. “And I know what’s going on with Grimm.” He held her gaze levelly.
Jillian was immediately wary. “What do you mean?” she evaded.
Quinn smiled in an effort to soften his words. “Jillian, he’s not the marrying kind.”
Jillian bit her lip and averted her gaze. “You don’t know that for certain. That’s like saying Ramsay’s not the marrying kind because, from the tales I’ve heard, he’s been a consummate womanizer. But only this morning he convinced me of his troth. Merely because a man has shown no past inclination to wed doesn’t mean he won’t. People change.” Grimm had certainly changed, revealing the tender, loving man she’d always believed he really was.
“Logan asked you to marry him?” Quinn scowled.
Jillian nodded. “This morning. After breakfast he approached me while I was walking in the gardens.”
“He offered for you? He knew I planned to do so myself!” Quinn cursed, then mumbled a hasty apology. “Forgive me, Jillian, but it makes me angry that he’d go behind my back like that.”
“I didn’t accept, Quinn, so it hardly matters.”
“How did he take it?”
Jillian sighed. The Highlander hadn’t taken it well at all; she had the feeling she’d barely escaped a dangerous display of temper. “I don’t think Ramsay Logan is accustomed to being rebuffed. He seemed furious.”
Quinn studied her a moment, then said, “Jillian, lass, I wasn’t going to tell you this, but I think you should be informed so you can make a wise decision. The Logan are land rich but gold poor. Ramsay Logan needs to marry, and marry well. You would be a godsend to his impoverished clan.”
Jillian gave him an astonished look. “Quinn! I can’t believe that you would try to discredit my suitors. Heavens! Ramsay spent a quarter hour this morning trying to discredit you and Grimm. What’s with you men?”
Quinn stiffened. “I am not trying to discredit your suitors. I’m telling you the truth. Logan needs gold. His clan is starving, and has been for many years. They’ve scarcely managed to hold on to their own lands lately. In the past, the Logan hired out as mercenaries to get coin, but there’ve been so few wars in recent years that there is no mercenary work to be found. Land takes coin, and coin is something the Logan have never had. You are the answer to their every prayer. Excuse my crass way of wording it, but if Logan could bag the rich St. Clair bride, his clan would herald him as their savior.”