by Janet Dailey
The light tap-tap-tap at her door barely registered. Then Tara’s muffled voice intruded. “Laura. It’s Tara. May I come in?”
The request was immediately followed by a turning of the doorknob. Sebastian’s hands gripped her shoulders and set her away from him as the door swung open and Tara walked in.
For a split second Tara froze at the sight of him. “Sebastian. I didn’t know you were here.” Her voice was unexpectedly cool with challenge. It matched the tilt of her chin and the veiled censure in her gaze.
“I came by to see if Laura wanted to go for a morning canter tomorrow,” he explained with a smoothness that Laura wanted to applaud.
There was no doubt in her mind that she looked as if she had just been thoroughly kissed, which she had. And she wasn’t the least bit embarrassed about it.
“Naturally I told him he could count on me,” Laura said. “Would you like to ride along, Tara?”
“I’ll see how I feel in the morning,” she replied, effectively dismissing the topic as she once again fixed her dark gaze on Sebastian. “I need to speak to Laura. Would you mind?”
“Not at all,” he assured her and glanced at Laura. “Good night”
“Good night. I’ll see you in the morning,” she said with regret.
“In your riding clothes,” Sebastian added, throwing her a smile before nodding to Tara and moving past her into the hall.
With deliberation, Tara closed the door behind him, paused, then turned to face Laura, her expression one of thoughtful study. Laura sensed at once that something was wrong. It put her on guard. Disguising her unrest with an air of normalcy, she walked over to Tara and turned, presenting her back. “Unzip me, will you?”
After a slight hesitation, Tara lowered the zipper, and Laura moved away, stepping out of the dress as she went. Clad only in her slip and underclothes, she crossed to the bed and slipped off her shoes.
“You said you needed to talk to me,” she prompted when Tara remained silent. “Did my mother call?”
“No. As far as I know, everything is fine there. I need to speak to you about something else.” Tara moved into the room and walked directly toward the cozy sitting area. “Let’s sit down over here.”
“This sounds serious,” Laura remarked in a deliberately light tone, noting that Tara seemed uncertain about how to bring up the subject she wanted to discuss.
“I don’t know whether ‘serious’ is the particular word I would use. But I do think it could be important.” Tara sat down in one of the plumply cushioned armchairs and waited for Laura to join her.
Laura curled up in a twin to it. “Important how?”
“That remains to be seen,” Tara replied, hedging again. “You see, some information has come to my attention.”
Suddenly several seemingly unrelated items solidified into one in Laura’s mind. “If I had to guess, I’d say that Max is the source of your information.”
Surprise flickered ever so briefly in Tara’s expression at the astuteness of Laura’s statement. It was quickly followed by a look of admiration and approval.
“As a matter of fact, he is,” Tara admitted. “Obviously I haven’t had an opportunity to verify anything he told me. At the same time, I have no reason to believe it isn’t true.”
Something else clicked into place. “It’s about Sebastian, isn’t it? I remember that Max didn’t look at all surprised when Sebastian told us he was the current earl of Crawford.”
“Really? I didn’t notice.” Nor was it of much interest to Tara at the moment. “It seems that Sebastian inherited the title after his older brother was killed in a plane crash this past winter. At the time, there was already a sizable mortgage on the property, a debt incurred by his brother in order to raise sufficient money to pay the taxes that came due when he inherited the title from their father. Sebastian is now facing a similar tax obligation—and few ways to satisfy it. Unless he can lay his hands on a very large sum of money in a very short period of time, it is likely he will have to sell all, or a major portion, of the estate to satisfy it.”
Laura absorbed the sobering information without comment. She knew there was more, or Tara wouldn’t be having this conversation with her.
“To be honest, Laura,” Tara sat forward, clasping her hands together in an earnest pose, “Max thinks it’s possible that Sebastian might be desperate enough to marry someone—anyone—with money. And he’s concerned that Sebastian might have set his sights on you.”
“What do you think?” Laura asked, stalling for time while she tried to understand her own reaction to the information.
“I think it’s entirely possible that he has,” Tara replied frankly. “But I also know that you are much too intelligent to be taken in by a fortune hunter.”
But the unsolicited vote of confidence didn’t make Laura feel better. Suddenly tense and restless, she surrendered to the need for action and rose from the chair. Resisting the urge to pace, she walked over to the bed and picked up the dress she had flung onto it.
“I wonder what he was doing in Rome,” she mused aloud, as she slipped the dress on a hanger and carried it to the wardrobe closet. “Do you suppose he went there to see if the contessa would loan him the money?”
“Who’s to say?” Tara shrugged off the question. “If he did, I doubt that he was successful. The count is notoriously tightfisted, and the contessa has very little funds of her own.”
Laura had no reason to question the certainty in Tara’s voice. Tara was rarely wrong about such things. And it was unlikely that Max was, either.
“Are you all right, Laura?”
She spun around. At the last second, she managed to bite back the sharp retort she had been about to make and smiled instead. “I’m fine.” The lie came smoothly. “Why shouldn’t I be? After all, I hardly know the man. It’s unfortunate that he’s in such a difficult financial situation, but it doesn’t have anything to do with me. And after what you’ve told me, you can be sure that it won’t.”
“Of course.” A look of fresh ease claimed Tara’s countenance, brightening her eyes and relaxing her smile. “I guess I was worried that you might have become a bit fond of him.”
“A handsome devil like him, of course I have.” Laura made the breezy admission without hesitation. “Who wouldn’t?” She pulled open a bureau drawer and took out her nightgown and matching robe.
Tara laughed. “You’re absolutely right,” she said, clearly reassured that there was no reason for any concern. “Just the same, I feel better now that you know about this.”
“True,” Laura agreed in a deliberately casual tone of voice. “As the old saying goes, ‘to be forewarned is to be forearmed.’ ”
“That’s exactly the way I looked at it,” Tara replied and straightened from the chair. “Are you still going riding with him in the morning?”
“Of course. You don’t think I’m going to pass up the chance to gallop across the country, do you? It’s been much too long since I’ve been on the back of a horse. That’s the one thing about the ranch that I do miss.”
“Just make sure you don’t get thrown. Your mother would have my head if anything happened to you.”
“Not if it happened on a horse. That’s something she would understand.”
“You’re probably right.” Tara glanced at the nightclothes in Laura’s hands. “I’ll say good night and let you get ready for bed.”
“See you in the morning.” Laura worked to sound casually offhand.
But the minute the door closed behind Tara, Laura dropped all pretense that nothing was wrong. Giving rein to the turbulence within, she tossed the robe and nightgown on a chair and crossed to a window. She stared into the night-darkened landscape, indifferent to the scattering of stars and the leafy silhouettes of the trees.
Hurt, that was what she felt. Laura tried to remember the last time she had been genuinely hurt by someone, but couldn’t.
She was stunned to discover that she felt like crying. Pride wouldn’
t let her give in to tears. Instead she went straight to the private bath and stood beneath the shower spray until the feeling went away.
PART TWO
There was a promise of love
And a question of trust,
But a Calder will always
Do what she must.
Chapter Seven
“Excuse me, miss.” The strange voice seemed to come from someplace far away. Yet there was something insistent about it that penetrated Laura’s consciousness.
She rolled over in bed and struggled to throw off the heaviness of sleep. Her eyes focused with difficulty on the elderly woman in a maid’s uniform walking past her bed, carrying a tray laden with a coffee service.
“His Lordship asked me to bring you coffee.” She set the tray on a table in the sitting area. “There’s a basket of pastries on the tray as well. If you’re going horseback riding this morning, you’ll be needing some food in your stomach.” She turned back toward the bed. “If you want something more hearty, breakfast will be served in the morning room.”
“No, thanks,” Laura mumbled, rousing herself with an effort.
“As you wish, miss,” the maid acknowledged and bustled from the room.
Laura remained in bed as the events of the previous night came flooding back to her. The memories left her with a heavy feeling. At the same time they hardened something inside her. She threw off the covers, climbed out of bed, grabbed the robe off the foot of the bed, and went directly to the breakfast tray to pour herself that first, bracing cup of coffee. If she felt any lingering sadness, she had pushed it deep inside.
Dressed in riding breeches, boots, and a long-sleeved blouse, Laura descended the stairs an hour later. A black bow held her hair securely against the nape of her neck, and she had a sweater tied around her waist in the event the morning air was crisp.
The butler stepped into the entrance hall and nodded a polite “good morning” to her. “A hot breakfast is being served in the morning room, miss.”
“Will I find Sebastian there?”
“No. I believe he’s at the stables, miss.”
“How do I get there?”
Grizwold hesitated. “The route is a bit confusing,” he began with a trace of uncertainty. “I have other duties that require my immediate attention, or I would be happy to show you the way. Perhaps it would be best if you waited out front. His Lordship will be bringing the horses there directly.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks.” Laura continued to the front door and stepped into the sharp spring morning. It was the first time she had ventured outside since their arrival. She ran a glance over the ocher-colored walls of the massive country manor.
It hadn’t been that many years ago when her own house, The Homestead, had undergone a major restoration and renovation that had encompassed everything from replacing weakened support timbers and old electrical wiring to a new plumbing and heating system, as well as the addition of two new wings. At the time, her mother had remarked, “I swear it costs more to fix an old house than it does to build a new one. We would have been dollars ahead if we’d torn it down and started from scratch.”
By nature, her family was conservative. It was a trait that had rubbed off on Laura, enabling her to understand Sebastian’s situation, both current and future. But understanding changed nothing.
The rhythmic cadence of trotting hooves on brick pavement echoed through the morning air. Laura turned toward the sound as Sebastian rounded the corner, astride a big, bald-faced bay and leading an iron gray hunter. He flashed her that familiar lazy smile, and her reaction to him was the same as it had always been—a quickening of her pulse and a thrilling of her nerve ends.
He slowed both horses to a walk and halted near her. “This is unexpected. I thought I might have to pry you away from your morning coffee.”
“You thought wrong,” Laura informed him with a saucy look and stepped to the head of the gray horse. “This is a beautiful boy.” The horse buried its velvety nose in her hand and nuzzled her open palm. “Is he for me?”
“He is,” Sebastian confirmed. “Since you are from the West, I took you at your word that you’re a skilled horsewoman.”
“I am. If you can put a saddle on it, I can ride it,” Laura stated without an ounce of brag. “What’s his name?”
“Hannibal.” He passed the gray’s reins to Laura and started to swing out of his saddle. “I’ll give you a leg up.”
“I can manage.” For reasons of her own, Laura wanted to avoid any physical contact with him just now. With the reins looped over the gray’s neck, she grabbed hold of the flat English saddle and stretched a toe into the iron stirrup and pulled herself onto the saddle.
“I had to guess at the stirrup length,” Sebastian warned.
“It’s almost right,” she said and went to work shortening the stirrups by one more notch. “That’s the advantage of an English saddle over a western one—it’s easy to change from the saddle.”
“All set?” he asked when she had finished.
“Ready and eager, I’d say,” Laura replied as the gelding shifted restlessly under her and pushed at the bit.
Sebastian pointed his horse down the lane and set off. With reluctance, Laura’s mount settled into a collected trot alongside him. A short distance from the house, Sebastian swung his horse between two trees. A pasture stretched before them, an open invitation for a gallop. Neither horse required urging.
There was a sense of rightness to the steady drum of hooves, the whip of the wind in her face, and the feel of a horse beneath her that soothed and invigorated both at the same time. Used to the limitless expanse of the Calder range, Laura looked with regret at the low stone wall that marked the pasture boundary. She followed suit when Sebastian checked his mount to a canter.
“Want to jump the wall?” His eyes sparkled with an unspoken dare.
“Do birds fly?” She shot a laughing smile his direction and sent her horse toward the wall.
Its gray ears pricked forward, signaling its awareness of the obstacle before them. Laura readied the gelding for the jump, felt the gathering of its haunches and the adrenaline rush that came when they took to the air, sailing over the low wall. They landed well clear and galloped on.
Within seconds, she heard the pounding hooves of Sebastian’s horse behind her. When he drew level with her, he signaled for Laura to follow him. They galloped across another pasture, jumped a brook and a wide gate, and arrived at a narrow country road, empty of traffic. Both reined their horses down to a walk.
“I needed that,” Laura declared and released a contented sigh.
“I thought you might.” His glance made an assessing study of her, noting the flush of excitement that gave a glow to her face. “You looked a bit distracted earlier, as if you’d hit a spot of heavy weather.”
“I’m never at my best first thing in the morning,” Laura said, deliberately making light of his observation.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” The hint of intimacy in his twinkling eyes had its usual disturbing effect on her. But along with the sensual rush she experienced, there was also a pang that was anything but normal for her.
Other than allowing a small smile to play across her lips, Laura made no reply to his comment and focused instead on the cottage that fronted the road just ahead of him. A milk cow emerged from a shedlike structure next to it, followed by an older gentleman in boots and work clothes.
“Good morning, Mr. Frohme,” Sebastian greeted him. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“Indeed it is, sir,” the man boomed, his glance sliding curiously to Laura. “Certainly a fine one to be taking your lady for a ride.”
Sebastian chuckled. “I wish she were my lady.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to retort, “It’s my money you want, not me.” But this wasn’t the time or the place for that, so Laura smiled instead and said nothing.
“Give my regards to your wife,” Sebastian said to the man. “And I should warn you tha
t Helen mentioned she needs a fresh supply of honey, so I expect she’ll be paying you a visit this weekend.”
“Home for the weekend, is she? The missus and I will look forward to seeing her.”
“They raise honey, do they?” Laura remarked idly after they had ridden past the cottage.
“The best in the Cotswolds,” Sebastian confirmed, then smiled wryly. “Or, as Helen would say, the finest from Frohme’s. She has a fondness for alliterative phrases.” After only the smallest break, he continued, “There’s a lovely stretch of river ahead of us. Shall we ride along it?”
“Sounds wonderful.” Both horses moved into a trot.
Tara sailed into the sunny breakfast room and cast a cheerful smile at the trio gathered around the table. She was dressed simply in a silk blouse and tan slacks, but it was the tasteful addition of jewelry that gave her the look of country elegance.
“Good morning, all.” she said in greeting.
Max had his face buried in the financial section of the London Times. He lowered it long enough to grunt a disinterested response, then snapped it back into place. Boone simply nodded.
Helen was the only one to offer an actual response. “Good morning. You slept well, I hope.”
“I did indeed.” Tara confirmed and sat down in the chair that the butler had readied for her. Immediately he shook out the folded napkin and placed it across her lap. “Don’t tell me I’m the last one up.”
“Not quite.” Finished with his breakfast, Boone picked up his coffee cup. “Laura isn’t down yet.”
“She isn’t?” Tara repeated in surprise. “How odd. I heard her stirring about long before I ever got out of bed.”
“I wonder where she is,” Boone mused, his forehead creasing with a slight frown.
“Didn’t you know?” Helen gave him a wide-eyed look of innocence. “She and Sebastian went riding this morning.”
“No, I didn’t know,” he replied, his mouth tightening with displeasure.
Max lowered the newspaper to glare at Tara. “Didn’t you have a talk with her last night?”