The Greystone Bundle (Books 1-4)

by Taylor Longford

  When I moved toward the lead mare, she caught my scent, her nostrils flaring as she lifted her head in interest then started making her way toward me. I greeted her with a pat on the neck and rubbed the white slash on the front of her long nose. "Hello, beautiful," I murmured, and glanced at the woman who was pursuing the colorful pack of renegades. Then I took hold of the halter and turned the mare around, heading her back downhill.

  As the woman got closer, I picked up her vibe and liked what I sensed about her. She was full of positive energy, her face creased with laugh lines, her brown eyes bright with interest, her crinkly hair just starting to gray. She'd been in such a hurry to catch up with her horses that she hadn't bothered to pull a coat over her green knitted sweater. And the toes of her black riding boots were wet from plowing through the shallow drifts of snow.

  "You must be good with horses," she pointed out as she joined me and latched her rope onto one of the other horse's halters. "Either that or you have an apple in your pocket. These guys headed straight for you."

  I rolled my shoulder in a half shrug as we led the animals back toward the fenced area below. "I think they were just surprised to find me in the woods. And curious."

  "Where's that accent from?" she asked right away.

  My brow twitched in a frown. I'd been trying to develop an American accent ever since I landed in Colorado. Evidently, it wasn't working. "I'm from England," I admitted.

  "It looks like you spent some time around horses while you were in England," she remarked.

  I jerked my chin upward in agreement. "I used to have my own horse. But that was a long time ago."

  "What kind?" she asked.

  "What kind of horse?" I echoed. I looked around then pointed at one of her animals. It had a light tan coat with black mane and stockings, very similar to the coloring of the mare I'd owned eight hundred years earlier.

  "I didn't think they had many quarter horses in England," she said.

  I realized I was in trouble. I'd picked a horse with coloring similar to mine. But the lady had been talking about something else. Maybe breed. But back in my time, we didn't have names for different types of horses. My horse was just a horse. "Well, I had one," I claimed stubbornly.

  By now, we'd reached the fenced enclosure and, after the horses had been led through, I stopped to lift the long rail back into place, fitting it into the hole in the post.

  "I'm Peggy Davis," she said as soon as I was done, and offered me her hand.

  I grasped it and gave it a firm shake. "De…Devon," I said, deciding that my gargoyle name wasn't really right for the twenty-first century. Nobody was named Defiance anymore. "Devon Greystone."

  "Do you live around here?" she asked conversationally, and slapped the lead rope against her thigh.

  I gestured toward the open space behind me. "We have a place on the other side of the park."

  "Well, Devon," the woman said, and arched an eyebrow upward. "How would you like a job? Here at my stables?"

  "I'd love that," I answered without even taking a breath.

  Peggy's laughter rang across the empty fields. "But I haven't even told you what the job involves."

  I shot her a sharp look and told her, "I'm pretty good with a shovel."

  "It wouldn't all be shoveling," she insisted right away with a deep chuckle. "As you can see, I could use some fence work as well. And some of the horses need to be exercised when their owners don't have time for them."

  "I'm good at fence work and building things and horses. And I'd love to work at your stable," I told her. "But I should probably check with my friend first, before I accept the position." I was thinking I'd better check with MacKenzie. I had no ID and there might be a reason why I couldn't work for Peggy.

  "I can pay cash," she said. "If it helps. Be sure to tell that to your…girlfriend."

  "I don't have a girlfriend," I told her quietly.

  Peggy laughed again and her eyes sparkled with humor. "Well, I suspect that won't last long. Most of my clients are young women—high school and college girls—and they're gonna love you. In fact, with a stable-hand like you, my arena could turn out to be the most popular place in Pine Grove. Let me show you around."

  So she showed me around her stable, which was pretty impressive; it looked even bigger inside than it had from the outside. A few of the animals belonged to her but most of them were horses she boarded for other people. In the winter, her clients could exercise their mounts in the arena. In the summer, they rode up into the large park next door. The adjoining open space was a huge draw for her business. She even had a list of people waiting to get their horses into her facility. So, from what I could tell, her place was already the most popular stable in Pine Grove.

  She needed someone four days a week, from eight until four, so that meant I could walk home through the park after work, before it got dark, and I wouldn't need a lift most of the time. By then, Mac had taught Valor and Dare to drive and Victor was supposed to get lessons next. But she only had one car and needed it to get to school every day. So a job that I could walk to was ideal.

  Peggy and I parted with a handshake and my promise to be there the next morning if I could. Back home, I checked with the pack and by the end of the day I had MacKenzie's approval to go to work at the Pegasus Stables. Evidently, the fact that Peggy offered to pay cash made a big difference. Basically, it meant I didn't have to come up with any ID.

  I was pretty amped about the job. I was sure that our online business selling handmade bows would grow into a successful enterprise one day, but it was slow going so far and we didn't make nearly enough to pay the monthly rent on the house we lived in. The job at the stables would mean more money coming in. And hopefully, we wouldn't have to sell any more of the old coins we'd brought with us from medieval England.

  Cutting through the park on foot the next morning, I got to the stable early. Peggy put me straight to work, raking the huge indoor arena before any of her clients showed up. I rolled up the sleeves of my black, button down shirt and went to work, enjoying the familiar, earthy smell of large animals, which had always been a part of my life back in York but was missing from my new life in the modern world where everything was polished steel and plastic. Don't get me wrong. I loved the twenty-first century. But it lacked the connection to land and life that I was used to.

  As I finished raking the thick layer of sand, Peggy called me over to the wooden sideboards to meet one of her clients who was leading her horse into the arena. The girl pulled her dappled mare to a stop and I was surprised to find that I knew her. MacKenzie had introduced the pack to her and Alexa a few months ago, when we went up to Boulder on Halloween night. "Tara, isn't it?"

  "Yes," she gushed as Peggy hurried off to answer a ringing phone. The girl was clearly pleased that I'd remembered her name and nodded so energetically that her brown curls bounced around her chin. Her horse turned its face and nuzzled its nose into my hand. "You're staying with MacKenzie Campbell, aren't you?"

  "That's right," I answered easily. I didn't tell her we had our own place now and rented the house next to MacKenzie's, because I didn't want her inviting herself over. She was okay. Much nicer than her friend, Alexa. But she wasn't…I cut that thought off, remembering that I'd promised myself I wouldn't go there. I wouldn't compare Tara to a certain arrogant young blond whose name I'd banished from my vocabulary. Tara seemed to like me, and I figured I should just chill and go with it. So I locked my fingers together and offered to help her into the saddle.

  "I'm sorry," Tara continued as she put one foot into my hands and threw the other one over her horse's back. "But I don't remember your name. There were so many of you the last time we met. Victor, Valor, Dare…"

  "You can call me Devon," I told her, looking up at her with a warm smile that was almost sincere. Things were going well. I loved my new job and I was making friends. I was leaving my old life behind and doing a good job of fitting into the twenty-first century. Then I heard a young female voice behi
nd me and I froze in my tracks, my eyes widening in a sudden sense of alarm.

  "Devon? When did you become Devon?"

  Slowly, I turned and stared at the lovely girl who'd challenged me, her arms folded on the sideboards that surrounded the arena, her pale blond hair pulled over her left shoulder, her deep blue eyes fixed on mine.

  Yeah, it was Whitney.

  Chapter Five

  I'd known Whitney had a horse. His name was Romeo. But there were several stables in the Pine Grove area, and it had never occurred to me that she might keep her horse at the Peggy's place. Hoping she wouldn't blow my cover, I cut her a dark warning glare and gave Tara's horse a light smack on his spotted behind to get him started around the arena.

  "Is your last name still Greystone or has that changed too?" Whitney asked in a mocking tone as Tara's horse trotted away.

  "Greystone will be fine," I growled through gritted teeth as I strode toward her.

  "Well, I'm certainly not going to call you Devon," she declared. "Because that's not your name. So, I guess I'll just have to go with something else. Greystone, maybe."

  I braced my hands on either side of her, my fingers curling around the two-by-four at the top of the sideboard. "Whatever, Anders. Just don't make a big deal about it. Do you think you can do that?"

  She narrowed her gaze on me and her expression turned mulish. "Sure, I can do that. But you can't just reject everything you are," she lectured.

  That was easy for her to say; she didn't know what I was. But I didn't tell her that, obviously. And I was a little rattled by how easily she'd read me, how she'd seen right through me. But shoving those unsettling thoughts aside, I gave her a stony look and said, "You don't seem to have any problem rejecting me."

  A brief sheen of pain shadowed her eyes and I reacted immediately. But it wasn't a surge of satisfaction that I felt. No. Instead, I wanted to pull her into my arms and comfort her. All I wanted was to erase the hurt I'd put into those big blue eyes. Dammit, I hated the hold she had on me. Essentially, I was in thrall to her. Enslaved. I didn't want to feel that way about anyone.

  "You don't know what's going on in my life right now," she said in a low voice.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. "Then why don't you tell me what's going on? I'm here. I'm listening. I'm all frickin' ears."

  "I…can't," she said, and turned away.

  I stared at her back, my eyes locked on the tight fit of her riding pants as she strode down along the wood-planked aisle that separated the stalls from the arena. Then I slipped through the gate in the sideboards and followed her.

  "What are you doing here anyway?" she threw over her shoulder as she yanked open a stall door and disappeared behind it.

  "I work here."

  "Peggy hired you?" she asked incredulously, like she was the only one who could know anything about horses.

  "That's right," I answered, lifting her saddle and blanket from the wooden sawhorse in front of the stall.

  "What do you know about horses?"

  "Enough," I answered shortly and stepped inside. I hefted the saddle and blanket onto Romeo's back while she tried to slide the halter over his nose. The palomino jerked his head upward and backed away from his mistress.

  "You never mentioned it before," she said, her voice acid.

  I hooked my arm around Romeo's neck and brought his head down for her. "I never had much chance to discuss horses with you," I muttered, getting snide. "Most of the time we spent together, your lips were shellacked to mine."

  Okay, that was mean…but true. Except it would be hard to say who was shellacking who when we were making out after one of my Parcheesi victories.

  "Well," she snapped as she led her headstrong horse from the stall, "You don't have to worry about that happening again."

  I watched as she tried but failed to mount her horse. I offered her a hand up but she ignored me and eventually managed to get into the saddle on her own. But the big animal fought her for several seconds, jerking his neck into his chest and fighting her rein commands.

  I cupped my hand over Romeo's nose and distracted him with the scent of my venom as I coaxed his head forward. "I know enough about horses to tell that this one's too spirited for a sixteen-year-old girl."

  "One day on the job and you're already an expert?" she scoffed down at me, looking like a queen up there on the back of her horse, her dark turtleneck creating the perfect backdrop for her long blond hair.

  A wry smile twisted my mouth. "I've been riding since I was fourteen."

  "Well, I've been riding since I was eleven," she shot back at me. "And I doubt there's much you could teach me."

  "Maybe not about horses," I growled darkly.

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  I was pretty sure she knew exactly what I meant, but I didn't call her on it. Clamping my mouth shut, I led Romeo through the gate in the sideboards. But before I let him go, I said, "I'm sorry if you feel like I'm invading your turf but I'm here to stay, Anders. And you might as well get used to the idea."

  Slapping her reins behind her thigh, she rode out to the other side of the arena and stopped to talk to Peggy who had just stepped from her office. Peggy looked over at me then up at Whitney. "You two know each other?" she asked, surprised.

  Whitney cut a dark glance back in my direction. "Not as well as I thought I did," she muttered in a low voice that I wouldn't have heard if I wasn't a gargoyle.

  Whatever. At that point, I was convinced she was just playing games with me. One day she was kissing me like she meant it. The next day she was ignoring me like I didn't exist. Then flipping me the love sign. Then pretending it never happened. I was tired of it. And I wasn't going to let her get to me anymore.

  So when I got home, I cleaned out the pockets of my jacket and tossed the wad of useless valentine at the wastebasket in the corner of my bedroom. After that, I continued to show up for work four days a week. And when Whitney was around, I ignored her the best I could.

  I got off every day at four, so if she dropped by after school I only saw her for an hour or so before it was time to head home anyway. On the days she had basketball practice, she got there even later and we pretty much passed each other in the parking lot after she locked up her green Volkswagen. When the weekend rolled around, she skied on Saturday. But on Sunday she was there almost as long as I was. So on Sunday I had to tolerate her presence. And on Saturday I had to endure her absence. I'm not sure which was harder.

  As a diversion, I focused my attention on Tara, who was more than happy for the interest. Don't get me wrong. I wasn't trying to make Whitney jealous. I was just trying to get on with my life…without her. Which wasn't easy. But it wasn't hard to fall into old habits. And charming girls was second nature to me. It's pretty much the way I act around all girls. The difference is that I'm not faking it when it's Whitney.

  I admit it probably wasn't fair of me to lead Tara on, but I never claimed to be a nice guy. And Tara wasn't complaining. In fact, she seemed to be making it her life's mission to get as close to me as possible, as often as she could. She was always grabbing my arm or bumping into me or leaning on me. I'm sure that any other eighteen-year-old male would have been in hormone heaven. But for some reason, I found it uncomfortable. If the right girl had been doing it, it would have felt intimate. When Tara did it, it just felt like she was invading my personal space.

  And it wasn't long before Tara's friend, Alexa, started showing up at the stables to hang around with her. On one hand, it was a good thing because I didn't trust Alexa and it meant I could keep my eye her. On the other hand, it was annoying because she was always suggesting that Tara and I were "an item", and I should hook her up with Victor so we could all hang out together. Which wasn't gonna happen. I wasn't letting that girl within ten feet of my cousin and the leader of the pack.

  So one Tuesday afternoon, I was painting the large sliding doors at the front of the stable. Most of the arched building was made of steel but the doors were wooden an
d the inner surface had never seen a coat of paint. I used a ladder to reach the high places, then moved it aside to work on the rest of the door. Behind me, Whitney trotted Romeo around the arena while Tara and her dainty Appaloosa cut figure eights into the sand. Alexa was perched on the wooden sideboards, reminding me of a harpy as she divided her attention between the two riders.

  Despite my determination to ignore Whitney, my gaze kept drifting in her direction to watch her astride her big palomino. There's something sexy about a girl on a horse. I don't know what it is, exactly. Whether it's the idea of a small, delicate female being in command of such a large creature. Or if it's just the way her thighs grip the saddle and the close fit of her riding pants. Maybe I shouldn't notice stuff like that. But I'm a guy, and I do. And don't ask me why I never notice Tara the way I notice Whitney. I haven't got that figured out yet.

  I dipped my brush in the can of paint and lifted it to the door as I glanced over my shoulder one more time. From the corner of my eye, I saw Romeo leaning into the wooden sideboards that surrounded the arena.

  "What the hell?" I swore, dropping the wet brush and splattering stringers of gray paint on the dirt floor. Ignoring all of that, I sprinted for the arena, vaulting the sideboards and tearing across the sand. Getting my fingers around Romeo's halter, I dug in my heels and yanked his head to the side.

  "What are you doing?" Whitney demanded as she fought for control of the heavy beast.

  "He was trying to knock you out of the saddle!" I shouted back at her.

  She scowled down at me. "What are you talking about?"

  "Romeo. He was running into the sideboards and trying to scrape you off his back."

  "He just wandered off track," she claimed. "I can handle him."

  "You could have fooled me," I threw back cynically, my anger at the horse spilling into my words. But Romeo had frightened me; he might have hurt Whitney.

  "I suppose you could handle him without any problem," she retorted as Romeo backed away in a few prancing steps.