“Malvina, look out!”
Burke caught the girl with one arm and swept her out of harm’s way in the nick of time. Moonshadow kicked directly where she had been, his tolerance of perfume limited at the best of times. The destrier stamped, flung his weight against the opposing wall of the stall, snorted and fumed.
Then, apparently satisfied that he had made his opinion clear—or that his tormentors had retreated sufficiently—the stallion settled.
He blew insouciantly at the contents of his feed bin, scattering hay in every direction. Clearly pleased with his deeds, he acted for all the world as if naught were amiss.
Burke breathed a sigh of relief. The beast would not willfully hurt another, but there was always a chance of his miscalculating his weight and strength.
’Twas then Burke realized
