Carrier of the Mark. Leigh Fallon

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Carrier of the Mark - Leigh  Fallon


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exam that sounded like the SATs. It was called the Leaving Certificate, and what you got on the exam determined what you could study in college. True, I wasn’t set on going to college in Ireland, but I didn’t want to bomb any major tests either. I was ahead in some subjects, but way behind in others. Caitlin said she would help me out if I needed it, but Saturdays were busy for her, as she helped her mom out in their B and B.

      My torture was somewhat alleviated on Saturday night, when my dad arrived home and handed me a brand-new cell phone. Caitlin and I texted each other all night, plotting our visit to the Kinsale Equestrian Center the next day. Finally, Sunday arrived.

      Before we headed over, Caitlin swung by to pick me up. I was eager to show her around my new house, which I loved. It was set high up above the multicolored houses that crept along the sides of the roads in town. The harbor below us was banked on all sides by houses, shops, and restaurants, all stepped up on the surrounding slopes.

      From our porch, you could see the water from the harbor snaking its way out to sea and blending with the horizon. Our house was up a very narrow, steep road, through iron gates set into piers that were made of a red and sandy-colored stone. The driveway curved around in a big circle with a green in the middle of it. Dotted along the curving road were eight large, slightly elevated houses. They were all painted different colors. Ours was apple green.

      Caitlin had a quick look around the house and my room, but she seemed anxious to get moving. The call of the equestrian center was obviously too strong to ignore.

      “Come on, Megan, you’re going to love this,” she urged.

      I smirked. She would love it, but I imagined my role would be more of a supporting one. I didn’t mind, though. Caitlin had informed me that Killian was teaching the lessons in the afternoon, and this was too good an opportunity to miss. We would get to gawk at him for a couple of hours. Lucky us.

      It was another lovely day. The weather had been really nice since we arrived. Apparently it wasn’t normally like this; any day now the clouds would come and it would probably rain for six months solid. I planned to enjoy the sun while it lasted.

      We walked down past the school in the direction of the Bandon estuary, which swept its way into the harbor. When we came to the water’s edge, we turned right.

      The water was still, just a few small boats bobbing gently at their moorings. The reflected sun sent out sparkles in all directions. They were hypnotic. It took me a moment to tune back in to what Caitlin was saying.

      “I was thinking of getting a fringe; what do you think?” she asked, holding her hair across her forehead.

      “A fringe?”

      “Oh, yeah, what do you call them again? Bangs.” She rolled her eyes. “Never mind. Did you see Jennifer in geography on Friday? I love that girl, but what was she thinking? That skirt could not go any higher! Mr. Murphy nearly had a hernia; he couldn’t take his eyes off her legs for the whole class.”

      “Poor Mr. Murphy, it wasn’t really his fault. How could you not look?” I replied, sticking up for the unfortunate geography teacher. “Anyhow, Sister Basil sorted her out. I don’t think we’ll be seeing that skirt return to such dizzying heights anytime soon.”

      I laughed, but realized I had lost my audience. Caitlin had stopped and was staring into the field at the side of the road. She leaned against the fence, and I followed her gaze. There was a large horse being put through his paces in the paddock. He was a beautiful chestnut color; his coat gleamed and his well-toned muscles rippled as he cantered by. The rider put the horse over a series of cross poles, jumping each one perfectly.

      “Gorgeous, isn’t he?” Caitlin said, letting out a sigh.

      “Yes, he is. He has great form.”

      “The rider, Meg, not the horse.”

      I peered closer, taking in the face under the riding helmet. It was Killian Clarke, of course. He wore black jodhpurs, knee-high black leather boots, and a purple-and-white-striped polo shirt. His blond curls were darkened with perspiration. I had to admit, he really did look amazing up there. I definitely understood what Caitlin saw in him.

      Just then he looked up and a huge smile spread across his face when he spotted us. He steered the horse in our direction. “Caitlin, Megan, what are you doing here?”

      Caitlin looked at me and flushed. “Megan was thinking of taking some lessons. I thought maybe you could give her the tour.”

      “Excellent,” he said. “You’ll be looking for a commission soon, Caitlin; you’re great at generating business for us.”

      Her cheeks grew a darker red.

      “I’m nearly finished here, and I’ll meet you in the yard for the grand tour in a few minutes.” He winked down at us and cantered away.

      I elbowed Caitlin in the ribs as we started walking. “How many times have you been down here gawking at him? Caitlin, you seriously have to make a move; this isn’t healthy.”

      “I know, I know. But I’m not good at, you know, making moves. I’m hoping he’ll make his move during the sailing course. If he doesn’t we’ll need to strategize.”

      It wasn’t long before we heard Killian coming up the concrete path into the large barn. He pulled the horse up and swung his leg over its back, slid down the leather saddle, and landed solidly on the ground. One of the young stable hands, eager to help, ran over, fluttered her eyelashes at Killian, and took the reins from him.

      “So, Megan, you want to learn how to ride?”

      “Well, sort of,” I replied. “I’ve actually been riding off and on for the past ten years, but I’m a little rusty at the moment.”

      “Great! We have some excellent classes and hacks for the more experienced rider,” Killian said, leading us through a barn lined with stalls full of sleepy-looking ponies.

      He then directed us to a huge indoor arena and a spectator area. We sat down and listened as Killian gave us the lowdown on some member of the center who’d been caught red-handed with the wife of the local farrier in one of the stalls. Caitlin was hanging on his every word. I gave up trying to follow along and watched a girl on the other end of the arena instead.

      She was on a huge white horse that must have been at least seventeen hands high. The horse’s neck curved in with her head tucked neatly toward her powerful chest. She moved so gracefully.

      The rider was wearing white jodhpurs and long black leather riding boots. She was completely in control, barely touching the reins. I squinted, trying to see who she was.

      “She’s really beautiful, isn’t she?” Killian said, interrupting my thoughts.

      Caitlin gave the rider a murderous glare.

      “She’s an Andalusian purebred mare. There aren’t many of them in this country.” At this, Caitlin’s face relaxed. “She’s a complete bugger to work with, though, and extremely difficult to ride.”

      I found that hard to believe, watching the horse and rider move with such grace.

      “She’s vicious in the stables too, damn near killed my old Labrador the other day,” he continued. “I think we’d have sold her if it weren’t for Áine. She has a way with the mare. It’s almost as if they can speak to each other. That, and Áine works for free in return for ring time and use of the horses.”

      “Áine,” I repeated, startled. “Isn’t that Adam’s sister?”

      “The very one. She’s like a horse whisperer or something. Our vet bills have plummeted since she’s been working here. My parents will do just about anything to keep Áine happy.”

      At that, Killian got up and told us he had to give another lesson, so Caitlin and I got ourselves a couple of Cokes from the vending machine and settled in for a marathon session of gawking at Killian. Well, Caitlin gawked. I couldn’t stop myself from focusing on Áine. The way she moved


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