The Only One

by Samanthya Wyatt

“Papa? Good, he’s gone.”

  Giles lowered the paper enough to peer over the top. “Beg pardon?”

  “You’re here alone, so Papa must be gone.”

  “No. I’m waiting while he deals with some private business. Then he’s showing me the plantation.”

  “Oh.” Her smile disappeared and her shoulders dropped.

  He raised the paper in hopes the man would be done soon.

  “Maybe I can come with you.”

  If he ignored her, maybe she would go away.

  “I said, maybe Papa will allow me to go with you.”

  Evidently not.

  Giles lowered the paper again. “Do you make a habit of joining your father when he is conducting business?”

  At her flush, he almost felt guilty.

  “No.”

  With a slight shake, he snapped the paper, and tried to focus.

  “Are you doing business with my father?”

  Bloody hell.

  “Yes.” This time he answered through the words that were beginning to blur. Damned nuisance trying to read with bleating echoing in his ears.

  “I need to take Blackie for a run.”

  Ignoring her was not working.

  “Thought you were going to change his name.” Giles affected a bored response.

  “I am. Would you put that paper down? It’s annoying when I’m trying to have a conversation with you.”

  “Any other female would understand this as a hint.”

  “A what? Please, lower that thing.”

  “‘Thing?’ The Louisiana Gazette?” When he peered over the top, Alex had fisted her hands, one on each side of her plate.

  He hid a grin and directed a pointed glare to her hands. She quickly lifted her napkin and toyed with it in her lap.

  “A hint. An indirect, noticeable implication, suggesting perhaps I might not want to engage in conversation.” His gaze bore into hers.

  “Oh.” Just as she took a lungful of air, about to spout more gibberish, her father entered with the force of a gale wind.

  “There you are. Good morning, Alex.” Even her father called her Alex.

  “Good morning, Papa.”

  “Giles, I’ve finished. Now, ready to see the plantation?”

  “Most assuredly.” Giles folded the paper and stood, wondering if the chit would ask her father to come along. She did not.

  “Tell your mother we’ll try to be back in time for dinner.” James turned to Giles. “We have a lot of ground to cover.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.” He glanced to Alex and found her chewing on her bottom lip. “Good day, Alex.”

  Cunning eyes darted to him. Giles groaned under his breath, for surely a plan of some sort rotated in her mind.

  Surrounded by splendid groves, the mansion sat sagaciously in the middle of a plantation laid out for beauty and productiveness. Massive oaks and graceful magnolias provided shade. The gardens occupied a large area, filled with brilliant roses and all manner of rarer blossoms that reflected the rays of the sun. Flowers of every description perfumed the air.

  Fields stretched for miles toward a dark belt of timber. Extensive orange and cherry orchards produced fruit and more.

  A group of white buildings scattered within the back field, sugar-houses and cottages occupied by the laborers, including a kitchen where the fieldhands took their meals, and sheds where the carts and costly machinery were housed.

  Giles had been observing for hours, but time passed quickly for there was much to see. James had not exaggerated when he described miles of acreage.

  “This section may, without the least exaggeration, be the best land in the world.” James shifted on his horse and beamed with pride. “It protects the Mississippi channel. The rivers and bayous furnish fish and oysters of the finest flavor. The soil here is sedimentary formation. As you can see, we grow fruit and vegetables in tropical abundance.”

  “Yes. Quite impressive,” Giles admitted.

  “The conditions of life are easy. But make no mistake, my friend, the laborers work hard. I am not cruel, but I am a demanding taskmaster. In addition, I make a very comfortable living.”

  A horn sounded from a steamboat on the river.

  “Ah, the Paragon,” James said, identifying the boat. “Three hundred and fifty-five tons. One of the finest boats on the rivers. Headed to Louisville, no doubt, with a full cargo.”

  “I have just invested in a new steamboat design.” Giles thought he’d share his venture and get James’ estimation of the project. “A gentleman proposed to connect each side wheel to one engine only—thus one wheel would be able to go forward while the other went backward, and the boat could be turned in its own length.”

  “How big is he planning to make this boat? That would cut considerably on the cabin size and the amount of space for cargo.”

  “There has been a lot of controversy over flexibility of steering and roomier cabins. He has designed two more stories of cabins and the pilothouse would sit atop that.”

  James considered the idea. “Such a vessel would be top-heavy. More than likely turn over.”

  “The gentleman has proved, in theory of course, the boat would cut easily through the water. That it would steer as if by magic.” Warming to the subject, Giles’ voice grew in enthusiasm.

  “Now that I would have to see.”

  “The merchant has my money. So time will tell.”

  “Tomorrow we will visit the cane field. A profitable culture, sugar and rice. I have not forgotten I promised you a surprise,” James stated.

  “I must admit I’ve been eager to see what that surprise might be.”

  “Some men do not like surprises.” The older man winked. “I think you’ll like this one.”

  Clicking the reins, he spurred his horse into a gallop. Giles followed.

  “Well? What do you think?” Proud as a father boasting of his newborn son, James face beamed with pleasure.

  Giles wondered if he should trust his vision. There, in front of him, appeared to be a replica of Morgan’s white stallion. Surely it could not be the same horse.

  “Ha. Just the look I expected,” James said excitedly. “And before you ask, his name is Chrysaor. Like his namesake, he is brother to Pegasus—the horse your friend owns.”

  “You were right.” Gazing at the mystical beast, Giles spoke with awe. “This is a surprise I most assuredly like. I had no idea two such identical beings existed.”

  “You won’t be able to get too close. Ben has staked his claim for now. He’s the only one who can get within touching distance.” James shifted in his saddle. “We let Chrysaor roam free. Ben makes sure he doesn’t stray off our land.”

  “So how did you come by him?”

  “Morgan created quite a stir when he took Pegasus. The story of how he faced down a cruel owner and saved a prized stallion—which resembled a mythical creature, no less—spread far and wide. Embellished as the story flourished from one town to the next. And beyond.”

  James removed his hat, thrust his fingers through his hair, and shoved the covering back on his head, all the while keeping a worshipful gaze on the animal. His tone might be matter-of-fact, but clearly he derived more than satisfaction from owning this particular stallion.

  “Word came back of a man who owned such a horse. Jacobson, the man’s name, declared he’d never mistreated any animal. That’s how we found out there were two.” James glanced to Giles briefly, then resumed his admiration of the beautiful stallion in the pasture.

  “Turned out the original owner had an accident and lost the use of his legs. The man he hired to help out, stole the horses and disappeared. Evidently this thief sold one to Jacobson. Said he was down on his luck and needed money, but could only part w
ith one horse. Jacobson tried to buy both, but the man refused to sell the second one, which he claimed was named Pegasus. We figure that’s the man Morgan took the whip from.”

  “How did you get this stallion?”

  “Took some doing. I fancied that horse. Made Jacobson an offer no sane man could refuse.” A smile engulfed James’ face. “Look at him. Prances around as if he were a king. Have you ever seen anything so magical He’s like a spirit.”

  “That he is.” Giles had to admit the animal looked exactly like the one in England. “And so is his brother.”

  “Before you ask, he’s not for sale.” James appeared as if in a trance, and stared at the stallion as though he marveled at a dream.

  “Clearly, this animal is special to you,” Giles stated.

  “Uninhibited. Free. Beautiful. Spiritual. There are no words to describe what I feel when I look at that horse. Imagine two such creatures roaming that field.”

  Ah-ha. That’s what this is about.

  “I share your admiration, James. But I’m afraid you must be satisfied with only one. Whether or not Morgan’s feelings run as deep as yours, he would not give up Pegasus.”

  From her upstairs window, Alex saw Papa and Giles down by the stables.

  They’re back.

  She raced across the room, threw open the door and peeked left to right. No one to see her escape, she raced down the steps, hurried to the kitchen, and nearly collided with Phibe.

  “Where you going in such a rush?”

  “Uh, nowhere. Thought I might grab an apple for a snack.”

  “Um hum.” Phibe crossed her arms under her big bosom. “You seem to be in a mighty fine hurry.”

  “I’m hungry.” Alex snatched an apple from a basket.

  “More ’n likely it’s for that black beast.”

  “Isn’t he a beauty?” Better Phibe assume the treat was for the black than know the real reason for her urgency.

  “Go on with ya.” Phibe laughed and fluffed her apron. “Guess he’s gotta eat, too.”

  Alex tried to slow her steps, hoping to make a smooth and graceful exit, but her feet were as anxious as her galloping heart. She put one foot in front of the other and sprinted out the back door. As soon as the door closed, she took off, jumping for joy in her excitement.

  The afternoon sun blazed down in all her glory, warming Alex before she entered the cool shade of the stables. The sight that met her eyes knocked her heart to a roaring halt.

  Bare chested, Giles stood next to his golden steed. Slightly bent, a dark lock of hair—the same sable highlights of her stallion—fell forward to block the side of his face. Dark curls generously spread across a masculine chest. He had the body of an imaginary god that she’d only seen on statues in the books in Papa’s library.

  With a brush in his hand, Giles’ husky voice soothed Gent while he brushed the silky golden coat. Bulging muscles, covering his back and arms, flexed with each stroke across the horse’s flank. Warmth flowed through her center at how his muscles stiffened and released, only to stiffen and release again . . . and again.

  Her eyes glued to his glistening, damp skin, Alex drank in the vision before her. She stood there, mouth agape, filling her eyes, amazed at how seeing a man’s body could thrill her so. Every shift of muscle across his bare shoulders made her throat close a little more. Powerful emotions swamped her, making it impossible to look away.

  Quietly, barely breathing, unable to move, she stared. One of his hands held the curry brush and stroked the steed while the other smoothed along behind as if to caress. The softly spoken words Giles issued to Gent were having a delicious effect on her. She felt warm all over. Heat spread over her to settle low in her belly.

  She must have made a noise, for his head jerked up and his eyes bore into hers. His fixed stare unsettled her. Heat flooded her cheeks. His lids shuttered, then he went back to the task at hand.

  “Do you need something, Alex?” Putting the brush away, he lifted his shirt from the post.

  The simple act caused her stomach to flutter. Where had her wits gone? She’d seen her brothers bare backed before. Watching Giles aroused sensations she’d never encountered. His naked flesh, springy black curls over an impressive chest, made her lose any coherent thought she might have had.

  Buttoning his shirt, he stepped next to her with an expectant expression, as though he waited for an answer.

  “Uh. No. Nothing.”

  Giles turned, grabbed the leather lead of his horse, and settled Gent in a stall. He glanced back before leaving.

  Alex sucked air into her lungs.

  Chapter 8

  Four days of trying to secure the duke’s attention, and he avoided her at every possibility. Alex had to get him alone. She refused to acknowledge what happened the last time the two of them were together. Her reaction appalled her. Oh, not the part of seeing him almost naked, and ogling him, and her mouth going dry . . .

  The part where she lost her voice. Couldn’t speak.

  The opportunity she’d been waiting for, even tried to arrange, and when her very wish arose in front of her, she’d acted like a little girl gawping at her first lollipop.

  Time was not on her side. How could she demonstrate her womanly wiles in the presence of her family? Her father would not approve of her actions. He’d be mortified at the idea of his daughter chasing after an important guest. Her brothers would not aid in her brazen scheme. They might love creating mischief, and partook in some improprieties she shouldn’t know about. But when it came to her, their sister, each one had limitations on her range of freedom. Even though her brothers indulged her every whim, she could just imagine their reaction if she asked for advice on seduction.

  A slight shiver rippled through her spine. What if she picked just one?

  Kit was definitely out. He was the oldest and the most levelheaded. Sam was the youngest and the wildest. He might be a good choice if she intended to pursue every man alive. But she was only interested in one. She chewed on the end of her finger. That left Ben.

  If she could get past the embarrassment of asking, she’d never survive the humiliation when he locked her up and told the others why.

  Scanning her wardrobe, she debated on which gown to wear today. She hadn’t yet changed from her morning ride. Alex let out a huff and paced from her bed to the open window. What good would a dress do if she couldn’t get the duke alone? Pulling the curtain to the side, she glanced at the blue sky. A beautiful day.

  Today would be the day. If opportunity did not present itself . . .

  Her eyes widened as two riders appeared in her side vision. Papa and the duke, headed for the stables.

  Giles might think her a little girl—but his assessment was about to change.

  She ran from her room, hurried down the stairs and darted outside. By the time she entered the building, no one was in sight. She looked in each stall, to be sure they hadn’t stepped inside with one of the horses. Sadie snorted and nudged Alex with her nose. Voices drifted within her hearing as she walked closer to the back. Her brothers. When Sam mentioned Ben being with a girl last night, Alex’s attention went on full alert.

  Slipping behind the door, she hid and peeked through its hinged opening. She knew better than to spy on someone, but how else was she to learn anything?

  “I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “Come on, Kit. How am I supposed to know if I’m doing it right?”

  “There’s only one way to do it.” That was Ben.

  “Show’s how much you know.” Kit sounded sure of himself.

  “You mean there’s another way?”

  Gee Sam, I’d like to know the answer too.

  She recognized Kit’s, then Ben’s, laugh.

  “What are you boys up to?”

 
Uh oh. Papa.

  “Just jawin’, Pap.”

  “You got back earlier than we expected,” Kit said.

  “I have a meeting this afternoon.”

  Alex angled her head to see better.

  “I’ll take care of your horses.” Ben caught the lead of Papa’s horse, then accepted a leather strap from Giles.

  Oh, no. He was coming inside. She hunkered down on her knees. Scooting back, she crawled to the tackle door, turned the knob, and crept inside just in time.

  “Nathaniel Hardcastle owns a plantation a few miles south. He’s having a race come Saturday.” Papa and Giles were still in back.

  Finding a shaft of light between the boards near the floor, Alex lowered to her elbows, and peered through the hole.

  “No better way to examine stock than with an impromptu racing event. Several gentlemen will be there. Some to show off their steeds, some to bet on the outcome.” Papa settled his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Sam will be racing.”

  “Brusor. A gelding. Three years old. The fastest horse around these parts.” She could imagine Sam puffing up his chest.

  Huh. My new black could win.

  Something furry brushed crossed Alex’s back and she jerked, hitting a bridle, which knocked into the others, causing a jangling noise. She grabbed the straps to hold them still, then glanced down at the cause of the commotion.

  Tom. How did you get in here?

  The cat purred and stretched his back. She quickly shooed him away and retook her position of spying. When she spotted Giles, her breath caught. He stared straight at the tiny opening as if he could see her. He must have heard.

  Her father kept talking, so perhaps her guilt triggered her imagination. “. . . and most times he won.”

  “Pardon me, Mr. Carmichael. You have a visitor. Mr. Dagatt.”

  Papa’s manservant. How many more people would show up before she could leave her hiding place?