McNab got between her and it. He put his hand on her arm.
"My, the pretty neck it is," he gurgled, his voice deep in his throat. "But where's the gold chain Pat Glynn told me he had for you from a—'devoted admirer,' no less. A gold chain it was, with rubies and pearls on it—fit for a lady to wear! And there's more for you, where it come from. The one that sent it would dress you up like the finest lady in the land, Pat said, if you would—"
Deirdre wrenched herself away from the clutching hands. They caught at her again.
"You must kiss me good-bye then, pretty," he whispered.
She saw the flame in his eyes, the wry smile on his lips.
The chestnut was standing saddled, his bridle over the post by the door. Deirdre leapt to his back, her bag in her hand.
Thad followed her out-of-doors and stood watching her, rubbing his hands together.
"So shy, my blackbird, so shy!" he exclaimed, almost gleefully. "Never mind. Another day, perhaps!"
Deirdre looked down at him, her eyes blazing.
"If father heard you talking like that, he'd thrash you within an inch of your life," she cried passionately.