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to him again on any matter. After all, he might be under the impression that she wouldn’t say anything to her father, because she hadn’t said anything when she’d first asked for his dismissal, and Devlin knew that, had been listening at the door. So if he thought she would speak out if he wouldn’t leave her alone, then he’d bloody well leave her alone.
    But despite her confidence in her conclusion, Megan was still nervous when she entered the stable at her usual time after breakfast. She relaxed, however, when she saw that no one was about, not even Timmy, who usually was. She could hear noise in the back of the stable that sounded like hammering, but she wasn’t about to investigate. She went straight to Sir Ambrose’s stall.
    She always gave her horse a quick rubdown before her ride, then a more thorough grooming when they returned. She thought about skipping the rubdown today, however, wanting to be gone as quickly as possible while Devlin still wasn’t around.
    “G’mornin’, Miss Megan.”
    She started, but only for a second. “Good morning to yourself, Timmy.”
    “He’s somethin’, that Caesar, ain’t he?” Timmy said as he climbed up on the stall rail to sit next to her saddle draped there.
    It was their customary routine, since she didn’t require his help, that he’d sit there and keep her company while she saw toher horse. It was soothing, that normalcy, and almost made her decide not to break her own routine.
    “You were given a job to do, Timmy. Get to it.”
    Megan groaned inwardly at the sound of that voice. Likely Timmy did, too, for the boy responded instantly to the command in that tone, scrambling down from the stall rail and actually running to the back of the stable.
    “You had no business doing that,” Megan said, turning to see Devlin filling the front of the stall. “Timmy was merely keeping me company.”
    “Not when I’ve given him a job to do. He happens to be under my orders now.”
    She started to disagree about who was Timmy’s ultimate employer when she realized she was looking at him. She snapped her mouth shut and turned around.
    “What? No argument?”
    “Go away,” was all Megan said, and that in a mumble.
    “Don’t think I will,” Devlin replied, just to be disagreeable, Megan was sure. “I live here, after all. In fact, you could say this is my house for the time being.”
    His cheerful tone was irritating in the extreme, but Megan managed to refrain from commenting about him and stables going hand in hand. She wasn’t going to say another word to him. She was going to simply ignore him until he went away.
    She moved to get her side saddle, but Devlin was suddenly behind her, his chest crowding her back as he reached for it instead. Megan turned to yank the saddle out of his hands. She got it, only because he wasn’t expecting her to try to take it, but she’d yanked too hard. Her pull, along with the weight of the saddle, sent her stumbling back, and, unable to catch herself with her hands full, she landed on her backside in a small pile of hay.
    She let out a screech of indignation and slapped the hand away that came down to help her up. How many times was she going to make a fool of herself in front of this man? She’d already lost count.
    “I was only trying to help,” he said, “since I’d sent Timmy off.”
    She didn’t detect any laughter in his tone, but his mouth was probably grinning from ear to ear. She still wouldn’t look, but when was he going to take the hint?
    She got to her feet and dusted the straw from her riding skirt before she reached down for the saddle. Silence greeted her while she prepared Sir Ambrose for riding. She wasn’t even sure Devlin was there any longer, but she still wouldn’t…
    “All right, you haven’t looked at me but once since I’ve been standing here.” His tone had turned sharp with annoyance. “Have I suddenly grown horns?”
    Megan couldn’t keep her mouth shut on that one. “I believe