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“The lad will be staying for supper.”
    “Good for the lad,” the woman replied tartly. “He — and the rest of you—just might find some supper to be had if you take your business out of my kitchen and back to the stables where it belongs.”
    Ahern flashed the woman a quick grin before draining his glass. “Come on then,” he told Liam as he walked to the kitchen door. “Let’s see if you’ll suit one of the youngsters.”

    Liam offered the woman a weak smile of apology for intruding on her domain — an effort that was wasted since she’d already turned her back on him to fuss with something near the sink. He eyed the sugar bowl on the table. Not finely ground, as it was in many of the gentry houses these days, but broken up into small lumps. After another quick glance to make sure the woman wasn‘t watching him, and keeping his back to the kitchen door, he snitched a couple of lumps of sugar and stuffed them into his coat pocket as he turned to follow Ahern back to the stables.
    “It’s been said that you raise the finest horses in Sylvalan,” Liam said, stretching his legs to keep pace with the older man.
    “There’s truth to the saying,” Ahem replied.
    Well, so much for flattery, Liam thought. Not that he ‘d actually thought it would help. The other things that were said about Ahern being gruff and difficult to deal with were equally true. The old man sold horses when he chose, to whom he chose. And no amount of money could seal the bargain if Ahern decided against a man for some reason.
    They walked silently for several minutes until they reached a fenced pasture where a dozen young stallions grazed. Heads came up. Ears pricked. Then they all returned to their grazing.
    Ahern climbed over the fence. Liam followed.
    “Stand there,” Ahern said, pointing to a spot on the ground before walking a few feet away.
    “But—”
    “Stand.”
    Liam stood. And waited.
    Nothing happened.
    “How can you keep them pastured together?” Liam asked.
    “I don’t tolerate bad manners.”
    From man or horse, Liam concluded, biting his tongue to keep from saying anything else to fill the silence.
    Then the wind shifted just enough for the horses to catch the scent of the two men. Suddenly they were all in motion, cantering in a large circle as if to show off their paces. Two of them veered away from the rest, headed toward the men, wheeled, and galloped to the far end of the pasture.
    Two more broke away from the circle, moved off a ways and began grazing. One by one, the young stallions lost interest in the men until only one, a bay, trotted toward Liam.
    Slipping his hand in his pocket, Liam brought out one of the lumps of sugar, loosely clasped in his fist.
    The stallion came forward more slowly now.
    Hoping to hide the sugar from Ahern, Liam cupped his hand and held it out. “Hello, lad,” he said quietly. “Come to make friends?”
    The stallion was quite willing to make friends with a man who offered sugar. While the horse took the treat, then licked Liam’s palm to get the loose grains of sugar, Liam petted him and kept talking.
    “You’re a fine-looking lad, aren’t you?” Liam said. “A very fine lad.”
    The stallion nodded, then nipped at the pocket of Liam’s coat.
    Liam gently pushed the horse’s muzzle away from the pocket. The horse gave him a shove that was less than gentle.
    “You’d best give him the other lump of sugar before he knocks you down,” Ahern said, walking toward them.
    Feeling his face heat, Liam gave the horse the other lump of sugar.
    Ahern studied Liam and the bay. Then he nodded. “You’ll do for him. His name is Oakdancer.
    Come along now. There’s work to be done before the two of you leave here.”
    Liam thought the old man had meant settling on a price or taking care of paperwork. Instead, he found himself in the training ring for the rest of the day while Ahern put man and horse through their paces.
    By the time they left Ahern’s farm two days later,