“Because she’s an angel, honey. A very special angel. She’s your guardian angel, and I’ll bet you can see her if you close your eyes and relax. Can you see her there in your head?”
Ellie closed her eyes and sagged bonelessly against Dante’s chest, left thumb sneaking into her mouth in a habit she’d broken two years ago when she was three. “Yes, I see her. Hi, Mommy.” The little girl slid lower and her breathing evened out. “She’s so beautiful.” Ellie hiccuped once, a remnant of her earlier sobbing. “It’s so bright where she is. Everyone around her is so shiny and beautiful. They’re all happy there. Is it heaven?”
Dante held the little child long after she fell asleep, more for his sake than hers. He stroked her blonde curls while the knobby spindles of the headboard pressed insidiously against his back and his legs fell asleep. He could have returned to his own lonely bed, but he was leery of what his own dreams might hold.
When he closed his eyes he could see her again, smell the musky scent of arousal mixed with the pungent sweat of her mount. Sarah Taylor. What the hell was he doing, dreaming of her? There couldn’t possibly be a more inappropriate woman for him to lust after.
“I’ll be damned,” he muttered out loud, knowing that nothing short of a train wreck in the living room would wake Ellie when she was drooling on his chest. He closed his eyes again and tried to summon up an image of Susan, tried to hear her laugh or see her dancing in the sun with her daughter. But his mind kept producing the image of Sarah Taylor astride a magnificent white horse galloping across an open field while the dusk bled red into the sky.
“I’ll be damned,” he said again, and this time it sounded almost like a prediction.
“I’m tired of shining boots and feeding whiny children at the horse shows,” the woman confided to Sarah. “I want to learn how to ride so she’ll have to wipe my boots instead.”
Although Sarah doubted that the child in question would wipe anyone’s boots, she didn’t voice that thought as she buckled the frizzy-haired ex-debutante into her new velveteen helmet and boosted her onto a placid Appaloosa mare.
The feeble May sun was warming the earth, the robins were returning to Pruitt Farm to herald the summer, and the pregnant mares were dozing fatly in their neat paddocks. Sarah felt a sense of peace and contentment such as she hadn’t known in months. Could there really be evil in this world when there was such beauty?
Yes. There is evil here and you know it. She answered her own question and felt her mood notch down a bit. Her forays into the Boston General network had yielded nothing more than they had last year, which was exactly nothing, and she wasn’t quite sure where to go from there. Email some of the researchers that had collaborated on Jay’s gene therapy project maybe? If there had been rumors of strange things at BoGen’s Genetic Testing Unit after Jay’s death, those scientists would know, but Sarah wasn’t sure they’d tell her if she asked. She was just a lowly ex-counselor who had once been engaged to a genius.
A jingle of tack drew her attention back to her student, and Sarah looked back in time to see her student listing dangerously to the left. Grabbing one stiff new boot, Sarah got the novice rider centered a little better and tightened the girth a few more holes for luck.
“Now Barbara…what have you done in your previous lessons?” Although she’d get a better idea of the woman’s skill level by watching her ride the long-suffering Molly, Barbara’s evaluation of her own riding would tell Sarah a lot about her new student.
“Well,” the woman answered brightly, swaying a bit as Molly ambled over to the fence and nipped at a daisy. “Last time we worked on trotting and steering at the same time. I seem to be able to do one or the other.” Catching her tongue between her teeth in concentration, Barbara tugged experimentally on her left rein. Molly ignored her and continued munching.
Taking pity on her student and well pleased with the woman’s honesty, Sarah clipped a long line to the mare’s bridle and clucked until the pair was circling her at a sedate walk.
“Okay, Barbara, let me do the steering and the speed. What you’re going to concentrate on is relaxing. I want you to hold on to the front of your saddle with your left hand, and put your right hand on your head…”
By the time he bounced Susan’s Jeep over the rutted drive leading to the visitors’ lot at Pruitt Farm, Dante could have clubbed himself in the head with a tripod just for the sheer fun of it.
He’d woken up in Ellie’s bed with his spine kinked in seven different directions and his head filled with a confusing mix of half-remembered dreams that seemed to feature his sister, a white horse, and Sarah Taylor in the flesh. All of it.
Cursing himself, Dante had decided to spend another day at Pruitt Farm speaking with Miss Taylor and maybe watching her ride again, just for research purposes, of course. But when he tried to leave the house, a tired, cranky Ellie threw a royal tantrum.
She’d hung onto his pant leg, wailing while he and Mrs. Phillips had attempted to pry her free. She then shifted gears from bad-tempered to downright pitiful and sobbed brokenly at the idea of Uncle Danny leaving her. By that time, Dante felt a lot like crying himself, but was able to restrain his manly tears in the presence of the stalwart housekeeper cum nanny.
“She may be a little darling now, Mr. Devers, but if you keep giving in to her like this, she’ll grow up to be a spoiled terror.” Mrs. Phillips had frowned in disapproval as Dante zipped little Ellie’s quivering body into her pink windbreaker.
“Ordinarily I’d agree with you, Mrs. Phillips, but we had a bad night last night, so cut us some slack, okay?” Dante had fluttered his long lashes at the formidable woman, who relented with a small smile.
“All right then, but don’t let’s make a habit of this. I’ll leave a casserole in the refrigerator, you’ve only to put it in the oven when you get home. I’ll come again Monday and meet Ellie after school, right?” Dante was grateful Mrs. Phillips hadn’t mentioned that she’d be staying over for a few days while he was away covering a big competition in New York. He’d break that news to Ellie later.
Dante tried not to worry about the child’s recurring nightmares and continued clinginess as he buckled her into the Jeep, but he did make a mental note to schedule another appointment with the therapist Ellie had seen after her mother’s death.
“Where are we going, Uncle Danny?”
It wasn’t until she asked the question that Dante realized what he’d done. He could’ve kicked himself, but it was too late. “To a horse farm, Sweetie.”
Tears forgotten, Ellie squealed in delight and clapped her hands together, almost bouncing in her seat as she fired off a barrage of questions. She’d been excited about his job with Horseman’s Monthly because it would give her a chance to pet some horses, and had been almost delirious when Dante had told her she could take riding lessons.
But he’d never, ever, intended for her to meet Sarah Taylor.
Apart from the worry that Ellie might come to like the woman, there was the danger that Sarah Taylor might recognize the child and blow Dante’s cover.
His mind raced with possibilities, sifting through and rejecting options. Taking Ellie back to the house was out of the question. Mrs. Phillips was probably gone by now and Ellie was almost vibrating with joy at the thought of going to see some horses. He could take her to another farm, but he hadn’t had the time to research any of the other stables in the area. Besides, he’d already called Mrs. Patters and warned her he was on his way to the farm for another visit.
So Pruitt Farm it would be. He’d stop in, ask if Ellie could pet a few of the horses, maybe show her the little foal he’d seen the other day, then they’d be on their way. He’d come back another day to work on Sarah Taylor. Alone.
The golden retriever greeted them as they climbed out of the vehicle, and Ellie crouched down to offer her hand as she had been taught. “Hi doggie! Nice doggie.” The golden licked her extended fingers and Ellie responded with an uninhibited peal of laughter.
“Ma
tilda’s not here.” Dante turned to see a lean, tough-looking man with hooded eyes and a gentle mouth standing just inside the door of the larger barn. He watched Dante with a measured intensity that the younger man found irritating. To interrupt the scrutiny, Dante stepped forward with his hand outstretched.
“Dante Devers. I’ll be photographing for Horseman’s Monthly this season and Mrs. Patters and Miss Taylor have been kind enough to let me poke around.”
The man was slow to take Dante’s hand, clasping it once firmly before letting go. “Ayuh. I know who you are. Matilda’s not here, but Sarah’s out back.” He turned to walk away, obviously not one for social niceties.
“Wait! Is it okay if I just show my niece a few of the horses without bothering Miss Taylor?”
The man paused. “Well, there might be a small problem with that, Devers.”
Dante prepared to bristle. “What problem?”
The man gave a small grin. “I think that Bogart and your little girl have already found Sarah without you.” He nodded toward a narrow, stone-lined path.
Dante spun around in time to see the retriever’s tail disappearing down the path in the direction of a rising cloud of dust. He took two running steps after them before he accepted the inevitable fact that fate had just made things more difficult yet again. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered. The man he assumed must be Sarah’s surrogate father, Bob, laughed and disappeared back into the barn.
Dante followed the cloud of dust, expecting to see a chap-clad cowboy atop a madly bucking bronc because surely nothing less could raise such a haze of grit. Instead he was treated to the sight of Sarah, slim in black jeans and a jewel-green polo shirt, standing in the center of the riding ring calling commands to a middle-aged woman who jiggled furiously as she trotted around on a bored-looking spotted horse. Ellie and the retriever stood by the fence watching the lesson intently.
Accepting that Ellie would meet Sarah Taylor at least briefly, Dante took a moment to admire the woman’s neat figure and her energetic teaching style. He manfully smothered a grin when the horse suddenly swerved and dove for a ratty patch of grass near the fence.
“Yank her head up, come on Barbara! You can do it.” Sarah shouted encouragingly. “That’s it—get mad at her! Make Molly believe you’ll kick her butt if she doesn’t listen to you!”
The woman growled fiercely and tugged one rein right past her helmet. When Molly suddenly found her nose pointing at Barbara’s left knee, the Appy decided the fun was over. Heaving a sigh, she turned away from the grass and ambled back to the path they had been trotting along before her culinary detour.
“That’s my girl!” Sarah enthused, and Dante was surprised to realize she was referring to the middle-aged woman, not the horse. But he also noticed the aforementioned “girl” was grinning hugely and had sketched a triumphant bow in Sarah’s direction.
“I think we’ll end on that brilliant note,” Sarah decided. “Let her walk around twice more without any snacks and we’ll bring her in. I’ll help you untack her and put her away.” She walked over to where Dante leaned against the fence, absently rolling in the long line as she walked.
Sarah told herself the quick jump of her heart when she had first seen him was annoyance at being interrupted while she was teaching, but the little skitters of electricity and the uneasiness low in her stomach gave lie to that self-delusion.
But what was this? She had noticed the little girl arrive with Bogart in tow, and had assumed the child was one of the pony kids she had yet to meet. Now, watching the tiny blonde elf lean trustingly against Dante’s thigh, Sarah reevaluated.
A bit embarrassed by her behavior when they last parted, Sarah had been prepared to be polite but reserved the next time she saw Dante Devers, but the little girl’s presence immediately changed that. She looked to be about five or six and desperately fascinated by the horses.
Sarah could sympathize with that.
Did Devers have a daughter? She looked enough like Dante to be his child, but Sarah had sensed a bachelor-like predatory quality in him the other day, one that she didn’t usually associate with daddies—married or otherwise.
Yet there was that quality of sadness to him, the shadow that would pass over his face now and again that spoke of a deeply personal loss. It was a shadow that was painfully familiar to Sarah. Was he a widower?
She squatted down eye level with the girl and peered through the paddock fence. “Hi there. I’m Sarah, and that dog you’ve got there is named Bogart.”
The child smiled hugely. “I’m Ellie. Are all these horses yours?” She sounded awed and Sarah remembered the bubbling joy of her own early childhood visits to the farm before her parents abandoned her there permanently.
“Not all of them. Most of these belong to people who pay us to take care of them, and the rest belong to my Aunt Tilda, who owns this place. Only one of the horses here is mine. His name is Almost Noble.”
Ellie’s eyes were enormous, trying to take in everything at once while she kept one hand on Bogart’s head and her back pressed against Dante’s legs. “What color is he?”
“White,” Dante and Sarah said in unison.
He shrugged and quirked a brow when Sarah looked at him in surprise. “Lucky guess.” He needed to get out of there fast before Ellie fell in love and he started to picture Sarah naked again. “We just stopped by to pat a few horses, sorry to have bothered you while you’re working.” He held Ellie’s hand and tried to nudge the fascinated child back to the Jeep.
She resisted, letting go of his hand and climbing awkwardly to lean on the top rail of the fence as the sweaty woman led the spotted horse over to Sarah. “I think she’s cool enough now, Sarah. Do you want me to take her in and untack her?”
Molly ambled over to Ellie and whuffled delicately at the child’s face, eliciting a delighted peal of laughter, and Sarah shook her head. “No thanks, Barbara. I’ll take her if you want. I think Miss Molly has enough energy left over for a quick pony ride.”
Barbara grinned, remembering that a single pony ride had led to her and John purchasing horses for both of their girls. “Time to seduce the next generation of pony kids?”
“Hey, whatever works,” Sarah teased back. She was trying to appear normal on the outside while her thoughts tumbled over one another. Who was this child to Dante? Why did she look so familiar? Was it just her resemblance to Dante, or was there something else about the girl? Why did the photographer seem so ill at ease suddenly? Sarah watched him surreptitiously as she adjusted the stirrups on Molly’s saddle to accommodate Ellie’s shorter legs.
He looked frazzled and held himself stiffly as if his back hurt. He seemed more than ready to leave when they’d just arrived and had yet to look her in the eye but little Ellie was clearly at ease with him, thinking nothing of leaning back against his chest from her precarious perch on the fence. She obviously trusted that Dante wouldn’t let her fall when the Appaloosa’s muzzle bumped her.
Ellie squealed in sudden delight. “Uncle Danny! He likes me!”
Uncle? Okay then, not daughter. Sarah tried to ignore the burst of relief that brought. But Dante must be an uncle Ellie has spent lots of time with to know him so well. Once again, that didn’t fit in with the image Dante had projected at their last meeting. Sarah had the feeling there was more to this story than met the eye.
“Well, actually it’s a she, not a he. Her name is Molly, and if your uncle says it’s okay, you can sit on her for a minute or two.” Did Dante wince or was that Sarah’s imagination?
It must’ve been her imagination, because he barely hesitated before agreeing that of course Ellie could have a quick ride. As she boosted the child aboard and got her settled, Sarah asked, “So, are you two out for a drive, or did you want to talk to me some more?”
Although the question had been intended to open a conversation with Dante, it was Ellie who answered. “Uncle Danny said when I came to live with him that I could have riding lessons ’cause he was gonna be workin
g with the horse magazine. Are you going to teach me?”
Oh. That cleared up a few things. The child was living with him, which explained the easy familiarity between the two, but hadn’t been living with him for long, which is why he still presented himself like a single man.
It also explained why they were at the farm: to sign Ellie up for lessons. Sarah experienced a quick thud of disappointment and felt silly for thinking he had come to see her for more personal reasons. She’d refused his dinner invitation, hadn’t she? A man as handsome as Dante didn’t need to sniff around for a second rejection.
“Sure thing, Ellie. We’ll just walk around for a few minutes today, then we’ll schedule you a real lesson on a pony that fits you a bit better than Molly here.” Sarah led the Appy slowly around the ring, instructing the little girl on the basics: heels down, eyes up, hands soft.
As Dante watched the two together, a sense of inevitability rushed through him, leaving him dizzy in its wake. Fate had taken a hand in this business and assured that he could no longer keep these pieces of his life separate. In that moment, he could almost see the future.
It wasn’t pretty.
Chapter Four
Several days later, Sarah staggered down the aisle past Noble’s stall with her arms piled high with blankets and shipping boots. Her horse poked his white head over the stall door and whickered at the sight of his dress quilt.
“Nope, sorry old boy. I’m letting Modi borrow your fancy clothes for a few days so he’ll look good.” Noble was progressing rapidly through the rehabilitation program she had set him, but was nowhere near ready for the stress of the Newcastle Horse Show, the first A3 show of the season that Pruitt Farm would attend.
Ten horses, three of the farm’s and seven belonging to clients, were shipping to New York the next day to begin the annual chase for ribbons, points, and qualifications to prestigious year end competitions at Madison Square Gardens and the National Horse Show.
The Stable Affair Page 4
