by Kay Hooper
Again, she would have chosen a stronger word. Insane sprang to mind. But she replied to him mildly and straightforwardly. “I’ve been on the pill the last few years for an irregular cycle. As for any other … dangers … you of all people should be sure I have a clean bill of health. As I remember, that first blood sample you demanded was weighed, measured, and analyzed about six ways from Sunday.”
Walker nodded slowly. The blood testing had been at his insistence, required as a first step in establishing proof of a claim to the Daulton estate, and it had swiftly discredited at least one woman more than a year before simply because she’d had the wrong blood type.
This woman, however, had the right one.
Walker said, “The sample was screened, just as a matter of course. Screened for known infectious diseases, none found. Screened for venereal diseases, none found. Screened for HIV—results negative.” He paused, but when she said nothing, he added, “I had a routine physical a few months ago. You don’t have to worry.”
“I know.”
He looked at her curiously. “How can you?”
Amanda smiled. “If I know anything about you, Walker, it’s that you’re a careful man. A very careful man.”
He glanced aside at the flattened grass of their outdoor bed, tempted to disagree with her judgment. A careful man, he wanted to say, would hardly have mated lustfully under an oak tree with a woman for whom he felt uneasy suspicion at best and outright distrust at worst. And if he was unwise enough to do that, he wouldn’t make the situation worse by anticipating—with undiminished hunger—a repeat performance in the very near future.
Pushing that knowledge away, Walker bent his head and kissed her, making no effort to hide the hunger from her. It was useless anyway, because her response was instant and that was like throwing kerosene on a fire. He wanted to pull her down to the ground again and lose himself in her. His desire for her was so intense and compelling it was like something with a life all its own and only marginally under his control.
Her mouth was incredibly erotic, soft and warm and sweet. …
He couldn’t seem to let her go, to take his hands off her and watch her walk away from him. Jesus, stop making a fool of yourself and let her go! With an effort, he managed to raise his head and let go of her, but when he heard his voice, he wasn’t a bit surprised at the raspy sound of it.
“Have supper with me tomorrow. I mean today.”
Amanda hesitated, then nodded. “All right. Jesse’s going into Asheville before lunch, for a business meeting and then to get his treatment, and he won’t let me go with him.”
Walker heard something in her husky voice he couldn’t quite pin down, and it made him uneasy. “Then you’ll be at loose ends all day? Come into town and have lunch with me.”
“you’re going to work today?”
Understanding her surprise, he said, “I never get much sleep on summer nights, and it doesn’t seem to bother me much. I don’t have to be in court, but there’s paperwork to take care of. I’m free for lunch— how about it?”
Evasive, she murmured, “We’ll see. I have some shopping I need to do in town, but … Don’t worry; I’ll call before I show up at your office.”
He was positive she didn’t mean to show up for lunch, but he was wary of pressing her. “Good enough. As for supper, why don’t you meet me halfway down the path around seven?”
She was surprised. “The path? Have you got a burger joint stashed away in the woods?”
“No, but I have a wicker basket and my housekeeper and cook fixes a mean bowl of potato salad.”
A picnic. Amanda nodded her acceptance. “All right. Should I bring anything?”
“No, I’ll take care of it.”
“Okay.” She seemed a bit hesitant for an instant, then turned and started toward the path through the woods.
Walker knew he should say something else, though he wasn’t sure what. He was reasonably certain she’d throw something at him if he thanked her for the evening, and calling out a “good night” seemed oddly inappropriate.
Besides, he had a feeling that if he opened his mouth at all he’d end up babbling like an idiot, begging her not to leave him tonight. And that was a hell of a note.
That was really a hell of a note.
AMANDA WAS UP UNUSUALLY EARLY for breakfast on Friday morning. Truth to tell, she hadn’t slept much at all after returning to Glory; this new relationship with Walker struck her as being rather like walking a high wire without a net—in more ways than one. He was still suspicious and hardly trusted her, and yet the desire between them made clear thinking virtually impossible.
The combination of distrust and desire, she thought, was probably as explosive as any mixture could possibly be, virtually guaranteed to blow up in somebody’s face. And Amanda was very much afraid it would be in hers.
By the time the sun rose, she had been more than ready to leave her bed. She didn’t feel particularly tired, which surprised her a bit considering how active her night had been, but chalked it up to having been rested from the peaceful days of the last week or so.
She discovered while dressing that her sensitive skin bore several faint marks of Walker’s ardor, which didn’t surprise her considering how easily she bruised. Luckily, the collar of her blouse hid two of the small, pale bruises and the blouse itself hid one more. But the one on her left wrist …
That had been before the lovemaking, she remembered. When he had caught up to her under the big oak tree, and she had wildly tried to scratch him.
Amanda shook her head a little as she looked at the faint violet marks of his fingers. Odd—she hadn’t been conscious of pain or even discomfort when he grabbed her wrist. But, then, she had been so mad she probably wouldn’t have felt the jab of a knife.
Her watch, which she normally wore on her left wrist anyway, hid most of the marks, and Amanda shrugged as she left her room. It would have to do. If anyone noticed, and drew their own conclusions about what they saw, well, so be it. The change in her relationship with Walker probably wouldn’t pass unnoticed for long anyway.
When it came to sex, there seemed to be precious few secrets at Glory.
The dogs weren’t waiting outside her door, which was unusual, but Amanda didn’t think much about it. She went downstairs and into the kitchen, finding Earlene preparing some of the fresh-baked bread Jesse enjoyed so much.
“Morning. You look bright-eyed today.”
“Morning. Do I?” Amanda fixed herself a cup of tea; she preferred it to coffee, and Earlene always kept a steaming kettle ready in the mornings. “I … had a good night.”
“You must be getting used to the heat,” Earlene remarked.
“Mmm.” Amanda fought a sudden and ridiculous impulse to giggle.
“Want your usual breakfast?”
“Yes, just fruit, I think.” The blueberry-baneberry-whatever pie hadn’t spoiled her taste for fruit, though she doubted she’d ever be able to look at a pie in the same way again. “Is it on the table?”
Earlene nodded. “You should eat more,” she said in what was becoming a litany. “Eggs, bacon, pancakes— you know I’ll fix whatever you’d like—”
Amanda patted her arm. “I’m fine, Earlene, really. I’ll just have fruit.” And, to avoid further conversation on the subject, added, “Who else is up?”
“Everyone, for once. Even Reece. And Jesse, because he has to go to Asheville this morning.”
It was rare that everyone sat down to breakfast together, and Amanda couldn’t help hoping the meal would be more peaceful than suppers tended to be.
She got as far as the doorway, then paused and looked back. “Earlene, have you seen the dogs?”
“No, not this morning. I usually let them out for their morning run when I come in, but not today,” the cook replied. Earlene lived in; she had her own suite of rooms in the rear wing, where Sully, Kate, and Maggie also had bedrooms.
“Somebody else probably let them out then.”
&nbs
p; “Probably.”
Amanda looked at her watch as she went toward the sunroom; it was a little before seven, early for her. That was probably why she felt vaguely uneasy, she decided, because she was normally still asleep at this ungodly hour. That, and her active night.
Jesse was in the sunroom. So were Maggie, Kate, Sully, and Reece. The doors to the patio were open. But the dogs were nowhere to be seen.
Amanda greeted the others politely and went to her place at the glass-topped table. She was relieved to see that everyone appeared to be in a good mood; even Sully nodded courteously in response to her good morning, before concentrating once more on his breakfast.
“Sleep well, honey?” Jesse asked as she sat down.
“Fine. Are you sure I can’t go with you today?”
“The meeting’ll probably drag on until after’ lunch, Amanda; you’d just be bored.”
“Maybe, but I could sit with you at the hospital later.”
Unlike the others, who seemed to tread carefully regarding Jesse’s medical treatments, Amanda had been blunt with him since their conflict over the will had begun. She knew how sick he was, she had told him forthrightly—believing, as Walker did, that the old man definitely did not want pity—and she had no intention of pussyfooting around the subject.
Jesse had seemed rather pleased about that.
His harsh face softened now as he looked at her, and Amanda thought, as she had before, that no one in this house could mistake that look. She had power. As long as Jesse was alive, she had great power.
“I don’t think so, honey, but thanks.”
Amanda rolled her eyes a bit, but accepted his refusal and began serving herself some fruit. “All right. Has anyone seen the dogs?”
Everyone shook their heads, with Jesse replying, “Not this morning. Earlene probably let them out for their run, and they haven’t come back yet.”
Amanda started to say that the cook had denied this, but decided it didn’t really matter. With the patio doors open—as they were every morning before breakfast—the dogs had undoubtedly gone out on their own some time earlier.
The old man turned his attention to his younger grandson, and for once his voice was relatively pleasant. “Sully, when Victor finally gets back—”
“He did, sometime last night,” Sully reported. “Or, at least, the van did. I saw it parked outside barn two when I looked out my window this morning.”
“it’s about time,” Jesse said, but mildly and not as though he blamed Sully personally for the delay. “Tell him I’ll want to see the paperwork on the new horses tomorrow afternoon.”
“All right, I’ll tell him.” Sully sent his grandfather a slightly wary glance and, apparently encouraged by Jesse’s exceptional calm this morning, added, “I’ve been meaning to tell you, that new rider I hired last week is working out fine. In fact, she’s good enough to show.”
“About time we found another decent rider.” Jesse’s voice was still mild. “She just turn up looking for a job?”
“Pretty much. Had all her stuff packed into a beat-up Jeep. But her boots are first-rate, and so’s her tack; she’s spent most of her life around horses, I’d say. I put her in the apartment over barn one, since it was empty and no one else wanted it.”
“Who is she, Sully?” Maggie asked curiously.
He shrugged. “Name’s Leslie Kidd. I’d never heard of her; she says she’s ridden mostly on the West Coast. I had her up on a few of our worst horses to try her out, and she did great.”
From Sully, that was extraordinarily high praise; he did not throw the word great around casually.
“Ben says she’s very talented,” Kate remarked.
“Is she riding for him too?” Amanda asked, thinking that Kate was apparently taking her relationship with the trainer public; they were beginning to spend time together openly, and this wasn’t the first casual remark she’d made about him in the presence of the family.
“He said he stole her away from Sully for one of his horses,” Kate replied with a smile, “because she has a way of reaching the difficult ones that’s almost eerie.”
“I think she’s telepathic with them,” Sully said with evident seriousness. “And if you see Ben before I do, Kate, tell him to keep his paws off my riders—he has half a dozen of his own.” His tone was faintly amused rather than annoyed.
Sully and Ben, like the other two trainers at Glory, each had their own string of horses and their own riders, but they did occasionally require a particular skill from a rider working under another trainer. Since Sully oversaw all the training, he also more or less had his pick of riders; it was rare that anyone borrowed from him.
“I’ll tell him,” Kate replied. “But he might fight you for her, Sully. He’s very impressed.”
Sully grunted and returned his attention to his breakfast just as Reece pushed his chair back from the table. He seemed a bit preoccupied, and looked somewhat tired.
“I’ve got to go. Anybody need a ride into town?”
Kate said, “Maggie and I are going into town to do some shopping this morning, but we won’t leave until a little later. Thanks anyway, Reece.”
He lifted a hand in farewell and left the sunroom.
“Amanda, you’re more than welcome, if you’d like to come,” Kate offered.
“Thanks, but not today, I think.” Amanda smiled at her.
“Sure?”
“I’m sure.” Victor was back, and Amanda had every intention of talking to him as soon as possible— even if that meant braving the stables. It made her feel shaky just to think about going down there, but she had little choice. If she waited until Victor came to the house to talk to Jesse tomorrow, it might not be possible to speak to him alone, or unobserved—and since she didn’t know what he would tell her, discretion seemed advisable.
In fact, it seemed essential.
Still without her usual canine escort, but deciding that putting off the ordeal would only make it worse, Amanda set off down the path toward the stables shortly after breakfast. Maggie and Kate were getting ready for their shopping trip, Jesse had left in his Cadillac for Asheville, and Sully had gone to the stables no more than ten minutes before Amanda headed in that direction.
So she was surprised to see him striding toward her when she had covered little more than half the distance. She stopped, waiting for him, and the closer he got, the more uneasy Amanda became.
“Sully? What’s wrong?”
His harsh face was very grim, and when he spoke his voice was the same. “Has Jesse left?”
“A few minutes ago.”
“Damn. Where are you going, Amanda?”
She gestured slightly past him toward the stables. “Down there. I don’t like being afraid of horses, you know. I thought I’d try again.”
“Better make it another day.”
“But why? If you think I’ll get in the way—”
Sully hesitated, then said, “No, but— Look, just stay away from barn two, will you? That’s the second one from the right.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s been an accident, and I’m afraid it isn’t very pretty. I’ve called the sheriff, and I was hoping Jesse was still here. …”
Amanda felt very cold. She was afraid to think, afraid even to guess. “An accident? You mean … a horse?”
“No. Victor. He’s dead.”
It had, obviously, been a stupid accident. The big horse van was old, and the hydraulic ramp had been giving trouble and should have been fixed or replaced long since; that was undeniable. Victor should have had it fixed, because that particular vehicle had been his responsibility. And Victor should, certainly, have awakened someone to help him unload the stock when he arrived back at Glory sometime during the night, rather than do it all himself.
He had parked the big van beside barn number two, where it belonged when it was not in use. The horses had been safely unloaded; all six had been released into the big training ring in order to stretch their l
egs after the long trip, as was customary. And then Victor must have returned to the van and begun raising the hydraulic ramp.
At some point, he had, apparently, stood underneath the rising ramp, breaking the first rule of good sense around such mechanical devices. And at some point this particular mechanical device had failed, dropping straight down onto Victor. It was a very heavy ramp, and it had fallen hard.
There wasn’t a great deal left of Victor’s skull.
Amanda hadn’t seen that, and didn’t intend to. She had not returned to the house, however, despite Sully’s warning. Instead, she stood leaning back against the white board fence of what was called the front pasture, which lay between the barns and the main road and from where she could watch the activities in the area between barns one and two without getting in the way or seeing anything she preferred not to see.
The only reason she was able to get this close was because there were no horses near her and because a strong and steady breeze blew past her shoulder and toward the barns, keeping the scent of horses away from her. But winds had been known to shift, and Amanda was ready to bolt toward the house at the first hint of a change in direction.
That was why she was so tense, of course. Why she was shaking.
The sheriff had arrived. So had Helen, who acted as medical examiner for the county. Maggie and Kate had postponed their trip into town and were also here—as was practically every soul who had anything at all to do with the stables, and a couple of the gardeners as well.
The arrival of yet another car on the stables’ private blacktop drive caught Amanda’s attention, and she watched as Walker got out of his shiny Lincoln, glanced around swiftly, and came directly to her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked when he reached her.
“I’m always called if anything happens at Glory.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”
Amanda was aware that eyes were on them, but she didn’t much care. “Why wouldn’t I be? I didn’t find the—the body. Sully did.”
Walker frowned, but didn’t respond to her somewhat belligerent tone. Instead, he said, “you’re shaking.”
