It was odd. Strange. Probably the strangest visit I've ever had. East refused to let me pick him up at the airport. Rented a car and followed directions to the Inn he'd gotten from Cort. I'd asked him for a visit for several reasons. The obvious one of course, but also to help John and me buy horses to pull sleighs in the winter and carriages in the fair weather months. In addition to that, we wanted his expertise to assist in the hiring of stable help and turning the carriage house into a stable. That was all important stuff, but I wanted to get to know East Driscoll too.

When he arrived, he knocked on the door and we just stood there, staring at each other like two complete strangers. He was uncomfortably quiet and I was just plain uncomfortable. Pushing the door open, I tried to break the mood, forcing a giggle.

"Don't just stand there, East. Come on in!" I smiled. At least I think I smiled. The pull was there but something felt really off. I reached for his bag but he didn't relinquish. That's when I made a weird decision. I led him to the guest room.

"Thank you," was all he said as I left him there to unpack.

I bustled around the kitchen wondering what the hell was wrong when I felt him standing at the doorway. "Sit down, East." I said without turning. "How was your flight?" I poured mugs of coffee and sat across from him, pushing the sugar bowl close, remembering that he likes his coffee sweet and his tea plain. Jesus, how did I remember that? I'd only spent about five minutes with him at the Temple during my visit with Doc several months ago. And within that five minutes, he'd given me one devastating kiss I'll never forget.

"Fine."

So much for turbulent flight conversation. "Good, I'm glad. Most people complain about bumpy landings in Burlington. I think it has something to do with the mountains, you know."

A silent nod. He stirred his coffee. Damn, his spoon didn't even clink on the edges of the mug.

I scratched my neck until I'm sure it was red then cleared my throat. All righty then. So much for small talk, on to business. I fetched my files from the desk. He pulled a notebook from his shirt pocket and flipped it open.

"East, I've gathered all the information I think you need. The list of draft horse breeders and everything they'd tell me about their operation. We'll be on the road a lot. They're all over Vermont." I had done my homework. Already knew more about stables, breeders and draft horses than I ever thought I'd want to. With a twinge of concern that it wouldn't be sufficient information, I slid the typed sheets across the table. He slowly reviewed them, flipping from page to page, occasionally going back. Remembering that before his arrival in our world, East couldn't read or write, I couldn't help but smile. Marveled at how much each Brother has grown and acclimated to our world, and in his case, our time.

He nodded, took a pencil from his pocket and made notes, eyebrows curled in deep thought.

"I thought that for today and tomorrow, we'd make a plan and work on the layout for the stable. Would you like to see the carriage house? We're hoping you can use the foundation and design around it, but it wouldn't be a problem to flatten it and start over."

He blinked. I could see the spark of excitement in his eyes. Maybe he was just dazed and tired from the long flight. I smiled and East lowered his face with a shy grin. He cleared his throat and fingered the pages. "Riley, this may be the only breeder I need to see." Shuffling in his seat, his fingertip tapping the third name on my list, he leaned back comfortably, his long legs carefully avoiding my feet. "Got the animals, ready for trainin'. Young enough. At the right price. But I need to take a look."

Finally, his eyes met mine, almost challenging me to contradict him. "Great," I said, having no intention whatsoever of questioning his expertise. Reading the name upside down, I chuckled. "That's Hoffman's. They're only an hour away. Would you like to go there now?"

He stood. "No." Tugging on his horse blanket jacket, he glanced around the kitchen. "The carriage house first."

We walked across the future parking lot. The carriage house was near the big house, only about fifty feet away but my mind was spinning during the short stroll. I had a question for East and believe it or not, was afraid to ask. "Um."

His stride was long, easily twice mine. He stopped and turned.

"Ah, East" I wonder if you can help me out with something else while you're here?"

"Anythin', Riley."

"Um..." Damn, I was so nervous. "East. I started taking riding lessons at a stable near Hoffman's."

"Have ya?" He was again heading for the carriage house. I trotted to catch up.

"Yes, and I'd love you to help me." My heart thumped. He didn't even respond. Maybe he didn't want to. Maybe the less time he spent with me, the better it would be for him. Hell, maybe he didn't even want to be in Vermont. With me. That's always a possibility, I guess.

He pulled at the huge doors of the old structure. It was empty inside; John wanted everything ready for the expert's appraisal. East looked up. Walked in, then all the way around the area several times, his head shaking. "This won't do it, love." He turned to me. "Too close to the Inn. Not enough space for everythin'. You need this to store the sleighs and carriages." He walked past me, out the door and I followed like a lost puppy. Striding off across the open space, he headed toward the trees then melted into them. Another thirty or so feet and he stopped, turned a full circle.

"Here," he said looking up at the bare branches. "Can ya build the stable here?"

"We'll do whatever you tell us to do, East."

"How many lessons ya had?" he asked, pacing off the distance of his imaginary barn.

I blinked. Man, he had focus. I almost forgot about the riding lessons, concerned about the barn dilemma.

"Six." I grinned. "Haven't fallen off once."

Apparently he didn't think that was funny. He just nodded, stood still as stone. "I'll need to come back to do the stable hiring."

"Of course." His mind jumped and swiveled between subjects so smoothly I was getting dizzy.

"Sometime in May."

"We'll schedule it. I'll run the want ads and have the interviews all set up for you when you get here."

"How's your seat?"

I blinked. Oh, back to the lessons. And I was so hoping for a perve moment. No point in making a joke, he probably wouldn't laugh anyway. When it came to horses, East definitely had a one track mind.

"They tell me it's good."

He nodded then headed back toward the house, a little slower this time so that I could walk beside him. "Let's take a ride to Hoffman's."

w

It was obvious by the conversation between East and the owner that the process of buying draft horses took longer than choosing a new dress at Sak's Fifth Avenue. East scheduled another meeting for the next morning then led me back to the car.

"I have a riding lesson at one tomorrow. Maybe if your meeting with Mr. Grayson is finished, you can stop by and . . ."

"One?"

I could feel my face flush. Decided that it would be the last time I mentioned riding lessons. That he was obviously not interested. "Yeah, but it isn't important."

"I'll be there at one."

Cooking dinner, I wondered about him. About the pull and the different way it affects us. I was drawn to him, but without that kiss at the Temple, would I have ever considered East Driscoll for a lover? And why would he kiss me like that if he wasn't interested in me? I tried to remember everything I'd read in my Sister's diaries. Tried to recall everything about him I could. But all I could really remember was the amazing tingles that shot through me, generated by his soft lips, his tight embrace. And the sigh that escaped my aching chest when he released me, winked and walked away. Curious. Very curious.

"This you?"

I turned. East was looking at the photos stuck on the refrigerator door under goofy magnets. Beer in hand, he cracked the can open and sipped, turned to me.

I walked over and smiled. "Yeah, that was in Steamboat Springs, Colorado."

"Didn't know you could do that." He guzzled beer, never taking his eyes from the photo. In it, I was flying down a steep slope, champagne powder billowing in my wake as I swooshed a turn, smiling like a lunatic, my arms out, knees soft and ready for the next turn. I love that picture.

"Wanna see? I have a video of that day."

East nodded, following me to the living room and poking the logs before sitting on the love seat. I sat next to him, not too close, and pushed the remote button. Sighed. It was a wonderful run, probably my most shining moment on skis. Right after that I had an argument with my very drunk husband that turned violent, as most of them did. I spent the rest of the vacation in the room, hiding a black eye and sprained ankle from the world.

"That's amazin', Riley. Play it again."

I did, trying to watch his expression out of the corner of my eye.

"You're an athlete."

"Not really. It's the only athletic thing I do, actually. The only place I feel like I'm in control of my body, you know?" I turned off the VCR and headed back to the kitchen.

"And ya ride."

Turning, I couldn't help but blink. This was one confusing man. "I'm not sure you can call it riding, East. Or that you'd even think I can get any better at it. And I want to be good at it."

"'Course ya do. Ya wanna be the best at everythin' ya do. I can see that."

I dropped into a chair. "Will you help me?"

He leaned forward, his elbows on knees, the beer can in his hands, and sighed. "Don't know if I can. Not sure I can teach anything."

"But you can give me your opinion."

"We'll see tomorrow."

After dinner, there was no flirting. East thanked me for the meal then simply explained that he was tired, said good night and went to the guest room. Not even a kiss. He'd taken the file folder of information and his note book with him, so maybe he just wanted to concentrate on his horse buying responsibilities. I wasn't going to take it personally. Or at least, I was going to try not to take it personally.

He left early the next morning, tapping on my bedroom door to announce he was heading for Hoffman's. I ate a late breakfast alone, dressed in my loose jeans and two sweatshirts, pulled on my boots and left at noon for my riding lesson.

It wasn't till I stood in front of sweet Gracie, petting the white field over her eyes that I forgot about East. She whinnied, rolled her eyes and perked her pretty ears to my voice. "Hey, sweet girl," I said softly. "Going to teach me more today?"

I giggled as her big head rose and fell.

"Saddle her up, Riles," Pam, my trainer, said, watching my moves closely, making sure I was doing everything right. Then we led Gracie out of the stable and into the corral.

"Mount." I did, a little disappointed. I so hoped we'd do some real riding that day. Outside of the boring round corral.

Pam was a great instructor, teaching me the only way I can learn, with words. Explaining how my butt should feel in the saddle, where my upper body weight should be, where and what to soften, how to hold the reins. And Gracie was a gentle soul, actually helpful in funny ways. I sat easy in the saddle, closed my eyes for a moment and listened to Pam, felt Gracie beneath me. Then with comfort and trust, I permitted myself to just move with the animal. My hips rolled over Gracie's gait, my arms were relaxed and my heart beat with a pleasant thud. After an hour of working slowly, Pam directed me on commanding specific moves from the horse. Gracie was responsive and it went smoothly.

And that's when I noticed East, standing comfortably at the fence, his foot propped, his eyes concentrating. I led Gracie to him and smiled down.

"You must be Mr. Driscoll?" Pam said.

"G'day, ma'am."

"Oh, love that Aussie accent."

His eyes twinkled. "I'm not the one with the accent, darlin'," he smiled. Damn. East was flirting with Pam!

She blushed. "Well, Riley's got another hour. She and Gracie are all yours, East." Turning to me, she winked. "See you later in the stable."

Huh. If she only knew how wasted that wink was. East was far more interested in my seat in Gracie's saddle than anything she was imagining.

He climbed into the corral and walked around Gracie, smoothing his hands on her, down her legs, along her strong, young muscles. Standing at her face, he gently played with her ear then stepped back. "Ride," he directed.

I led Gracie around the corral several times. Had her turn and go the other way, leaned slightly forward and pressed her to a trot.

"Oi!" East shouted and I slowed the horse. He came to us, took the loose rein and glared up at me. "Slow. Again."

Again, this time with a huff.

"Yo!" Another shout.

I looked down. "What am I doing wrong?"

Looking at the horse, he shook his head. "Not sure . . . don't know . . . maybe nothin'." He walked around Gracie again and even she rolled her eyes in frustration. "Do somethin' different with your knees, Riley."

"What?"

"Can't tell ya that. Only Gracie can." He looked into my eyes. "It's a relationship. Not a job, ridin'. You got a relationship with this animal?"

Heh? What the hell was he talking about? I loved Gracie. Trusted her. "I think so."

"Not a good enough answer. Slow. Again."

Around and around the corral I rode, feeling like I was on a carousel. Finally I reined Gracie to a stop, glared at East. "I want to go faster. We want to go faster."

Walking up to me, he sighed. "You got a relationship with this animal, Riley?"

I blinked, afraid to answer. "Yes, East. I do."

"Good. 'Cause I think ya do too. But not fast. Not yet."

That was it. I climbed down and stomped to the fence, ready to climb over it and leave. Suddenly, East's hands were tightly gripped on the rail at both sides of me. I could still slip through but I stood there, feeling his heat, the strong pull at my back.

"Where ya goin'?"

"I'm finished for the day." I didn't turn.

"You're just angry with me." He didn't say it like it would lead to an apology. He was simply stating fact. Like that was all I needed to know to make things better.

Just then, Pam came out with Royale, all saddled and ready. "Here you go, thought you'd like a mount of your own, East." But she could see the tension in my face and left us alone.

"Bein' angry ain't no way to work a horse." He turned and mounted Royale with an elegant swing, settled into him, moving around the corral smoothly. I stomped to the gate and threw it open. Gracie had followed me like Little Bo Peep's sheep; I swung into the saddle and we trotted out.

God, the sudden feeling of freedom. Gracie responded to my heart's release and rose to the challenge. Jesus! We soared across the field. I was comfortable, my hips easy and flowing, everything suddenly seemed right with the world. All I could hear was the wind rushing past my ears, the thud of Gracie's hooves. It was magnificent . . . until she headed for the trees. Oh shit. I pressed myself down, sure I'd be knocked off by the first low branch.

Suddenly, I felt an arm tight around my waist. "Let go!" he shouted.

I released all my hold on Gracie, my knees, my hands, pulled my feet from the stirrups then felt myself loose in mid air before I landed with a thud onto Royale's back, East holding me firm against his chest.

He slowed to a stop then whistled loud. It was amazing! Gracie stopped dead, turned and looked at us. East settled me comfortably in front of him then turned us toward the corral. I looked back. "Shouldn't we go get her?"

"She'll follow."

Then I felt a distinct cuddle, his face deep in my shoulder. Damn, that felt good.

"That horse'll follow you anywhere," he whispered. "Should think 'bout buyin' her."

I leaned back against East. "I did buy her."

w

During the drive home, I kept watching East's rental in the rear view mirror, wondering what he thought of my stupid move, why he didn't get angry. After all, it was a really stupid move and I could have broken my neck. And he was dead right. It had nothing to do with my riding lessons or my riding. It had to do with the fact that I was mad at him. But I shouldn't be. After all, he was doing John and me a really great favor, helping with all the stable and horse purchasing stuff.

And besides that . . . he didn't have to want to be with me. There's nothing in the rules about a Brother having to perform. Whatever his reasons for not being interested in me, they were his business, not mine. After all, several of the Brothers are just my friends. Alex, Arthur, Jeff, Steve, Zack, even Stephen. So East might just want that. I could do that. I can be a good friend.

Maybe that's what he really needed. A friend. And I knew, before parking at the Inn, that I needed to get over the pull, get past the desire. Staring at the dashboard, I gave myself a pep talk before climbing out. Told myself to leave the man alone, to take it easy with him. After all, the real truth of the matter was that we really didn't know each other at all.

And I wanted to know about him.

Pulling things from the fridge for dinner, I turned. East was at the table, reviewing his notes, pencil in hand. "East, what would you like for dinner?"

He looked shocked. "Me? Whatever you're plannin' is fine, Riley." And he turned back to the notes.

Sitting next to him, I tugged the pencil from his hand. Smiled. "East, just tell me what you'd like. I can make anything you want."

He leaned back. "Riley, what I eat don't matter. Never has. Everythin' you make is good."

I huffed and started the pasta sauce. Well, obviously food wasn't the way to this man's heart. But I wasn't giving up. Even friends have preferences and like to share them. And even if he really wasn't my friend . . . yet . . . he was my guest. So after dinner, I asked him what he'd like to do.

"Well, we can talk about the draft horses I chose today."

I squealed and leapt from my love seat to his. "You picked them out! Already!"

He smiled that quick grin. "But they can't come home till ya get the stable built, Riley. When will that be?"

"Oh, with winter coming, we really can't start any construction until spring."

"That's what I figured. Put in the bid, and got the signed agreement for ya. Four prime draft horses. Now about the stable." He turned to me, pulling his knee up, looking deep into my eyes. "Will you be keeping Gracie here? Or boardin' her at the ridin' school?"

"Oh," I blinked. "Geeze, I don't know, what would be best for her?"

A smile pulled his lips. "Good answer, love. You're learnin'. Leave her at the school. Not much room to ride here, especially when you got guests all the time."

His face had softened, it even felt like he'd move in for a kiss, but he stood and added a log to the fire, then sat on the other love seat, watching me. I rubbed my eyes, wondering why I felt the pull so much, and he didn't.

"Gotta talk to ya love," he said softly, looking at his calloused palm then up at me. "I think I came here with the wrong idea, Riley."

I gulped. Here it comes. Rejection. Well, there's always a first time for everything, even rejection in Perve World. Now I know how SID must feel. I stood, cleared my throat and tried to smile. "It's okay, East. How about a beer. I feel like a gin."

But he followed me into the kitchen. "Don't wanna beer."

"Gin then?" I asked, my hand shaking so hard it splattered Bombay Sapphire on the counter.

"No gin." His hands pressed on the counter on either side of me, just like they had earlier at the corral. Then one of those big hands took my glass and poured it into the sink. "No gin for you either. Look at me."

I couldn't turn. If I did, some part of my body would touch some part of his and I'd lose control, really look like an ass. I stood still as a statue.

"All right. This'll do." He pressed himself tight against me, triggering every sort of energy imaginable, all converging in my panties. Jesus, was he brutal or what? Why would he do such a thing if -

"I came here with the wrong idea, love. Knowin' 'bout you, about your past, I was takin' a wrong approach and I wanna correct that. See, I'm like a rider, and like the horse." His breath brushed across my cheek as he talked, making me shiver.

"When I asked you about havin' a relationship with Gracie, told ya to go slow, you didn't understand. See, you and Gracie, you understand each other, ya trust each other. But Riley, Gracie's trust is based on instinct. Because she knows you'll never hurt her, she trusts whatever you guide her to do." His hands gripped my upper arms tight and I squeezed my eyes closed.

"When ya made her run, she was trustin' you to know how to take care of her, so that she could take care of you. You weren't ready."

"Oh God," I whispered, realizing he was right. "Oh, poor Gracie."

"Gracie's fine. She'll always be fine in your hands, love. And she'd give her life to protect you. But Gracie don't know what I know."

I felt myself stiffen. He responded by softening his grip on my arms, pulling me back against him in a deep hug. "Knowin' that stuff, Riley . . . it made me think. Think of the best way to approach you. And I was doin' it all wrong." He kissed my neck, his lips soft and hot. "I was treatin' you like an abused animal, circlin' you, movin' slow. Wantin' to give ya space. Time."

Another sucking kiss on my neck as his hand moved to cup my breast. "But watchin' ya fly down that mountain, ride across that field, I can see why ya survived, love. And I never wanted ya more than I want ya now. Never felt sure you wanted me like I feel it now." He turned me into his chest then kissed my mouth. "Now," he whispered.

My eyes searched his. "An abused animal?" I almost choked.

"Yes," was all he said. Of course, my mind went into a tail spin, pushing through insult and embarrassment, anger and fear. But those eyes. So truthful. A real horseman, even a poor soul out of sync and time like East would see it that way. And in his way, he was trying to do the right thing. To do it in the right way.

"East, what do you know that you didn't know when I met you at the Temple?"

His big hands smoothed down my arms, took my fingers tenderly in his. "Everything."

My mouth dropped. "Who told you?"

A smile played on his lips as his eyes caressed my face. "You did. I read your diaries. And I know you're doin' better. But I needed to see for myself. See, Riley -- "

He stopped so suddenly, his eyes dropping.

"What?"

Clearing his throat, he glanced around the kitchen. "See, I'm not the most gentle lover."

Jesus, he looked mortified. His fingers tangled in mine, brought them to his lips.

"East, are you the same with every Sister?"

He blinked.

"Would you push me too far?"

"No." More blinking and a swallow.

"Then trust me to show you how to love me."

"Like instinct."

"Instinct."

w

I took his hands and set them over my heart, gazing into the eyes I was already trusting. Leading him to my bedroom, I thought a thousand things. Wondered if I was doing the right thing. After all, he did warn me. What if I freaked?

Instinct.

My heart felt like it had just dropped into a feather pillow. Safe. Protected. Instinct. East's instinct. My instinct. And trust.

Rising on my toes, I ran my hands down his face, to the back of his strong neck, put my lips to his and closed my eyes. Like preparing to ride Gracie, I let myself feel his body, his muscles, the energy that drives him. The sensation of his heat, his probing tongue, the roughness of his calloused palms, a soft scratch along my flesh. Easy. So easy.

Like the moment I was free to fly across the field, I suddenly realized our clothes were off, strewn around the room as though they'd been blown in a storm, torn randomly loose from the clothesline. Free. East was breathing hard, shaking to control himself, struggling to resist his desire, and I knew how to soothe him, how to slow him from a canter to a trot. From a trot to an amble. But could I drive him faster? Should I dare?

Lowering me onto the mattress, I felt the sheets beneath me, noticed the blankets on the floor. Realized I had no need for them, that I was warm, cloaked in the power of our mutual choice. East was slow, but not for long. But I was ready. My body and soul safe in his hands.

His mouth pounded on mine, bruising my lips, devouring me. My palms pressed against his chest, feeling his heart pound, forcing his passion through the vessels in my hands, along my arms, straight into my own heart. Was I grasping him like that? So willing, so full of excitement and want? Squeezing my knees around him, riding the wind?

Every touch of his mouth became like a flame, licking my skin, burning, penetrating. His tongue moved everywhere. Over my breasts, under my arms, sucked my waist, making me writhe and moan for him. East is not a gentle lover. He is among the most powerful lovers I've ever known. His needs flow with his instincts. And I was trusting that. Wanting him.

Looking into my eyes, he sucked my lips one more time before rolling me over, kissing my spine from neck to tail bone. Opening my legs, sucking the flesh along the inside of my thighs. Grasping my hips again I was rolled, almost tossed onto my back, gasping, panting.

His mouth continued to explore, pressing deep kisses into my belly, on my hip bones, sucking the lips of my sex until I thought I'd go mad. Crying his name, begging for climax, so close yet so far, in the control of his rough hands. His thick, hot tongue.

"Teach me, love," he mumbled into my mound, breathing in my scent only inches above the heat, dripping with moisture.

And now, I knew it was my turn to restrain, to hold myself at bay. To use my instinct and guide. Pulling at his arms, I rolled him onto his back easily. We were rolling on a cloud, light as air and I wanted to feel his strength and his softness. I climbed over him, straddled his hips and took a drink from his lips. Soft. Hot. Tasted East and everything he brings to the encounter, the ride of a lifetime. Licking down the soft hair on his chest, the fur at his belly, I circled his hard cock, moved to the curls beneath, breathed him into my heart, licking, rolling his balls on my tongue. The trigger nerves that read his mount, that sense the animal's muscles, were in the control of my mouth, soft and easy. Teaching. My hands spread his legs wide. My breath brushed over his heated skin and he gasped, tossed his arm over his eyes with a hiss.

Moving up his cock with a long, slow lick, my eyes watched East. His skin glowed with heat, radiating in waves from him. And when I sucked him into my mouth, I watched this remarkable man shudder with pleasure. Deep inside my mouth, I crawled over his mouth, pressing my sex to his reaching tongue, wanting all of him. His fingers dove deep into the honey, and I tasted his hot, spicy pre-come. Lapped it, sucked for more.

The ride continued, picking up speed and now I knew who the teacher would be. His strong hands moved me like I was a feather, light as a kitten. I was beneath him, suddenly sucking his mouth, heavy with my own flavor. Lifting my legs efficiently, he moved like a rider, feeling me, reading my needs, my desperate passion for him.

He pounded hard, making his distance in one thrust so powerful I shouted, my climax a sudden assault, shaking me, rattling my brain. "Jesus!" I cried as he pressed even deeper before beginning his own journey, using my orgasm to hook on and fly, seeking to soar with me, to keep me afloat.

His rough fingers took control of my clit, strumming it, circling, pressing, until he found the pace. Watching my face, holding my eyes in his he took us both to the heavens. Together, in very few hard, almost painful thrusts, he filled me with his heart, his seed, his heat.

"Riley!" he cried. "Christ!" And he dropped, a rock, heavy on the bed. Back to earth.

East Driscoll gasped several times and stared at the ceiling before reaching over and tugging me over him, his hands tight on my ass, pressing me into his flesh, his mouth loving mine.

"Instinct," he whispered, then reached down for the blankets, covering us, and bundling me into his arms, my face deep in his neck, his lips in my hair. "Love is instinct, Riley."

"I love you," I sighed.