“C’mon, boy,” he said. As he led the horse out of the stall, something caught his eye. Quint tied off Gunsmoke and walked over to take a look.
Her back was to him, her cheek resting against her horse, Spark. He could tell by the rise and fall of her shoulders that Wren was crying. Instead of confronting her, Quint backed away, walked over to Gunsmoke, and led him out of the barn.
He hoped their father knew what he was doing, allowing this woman to visit the ranch. His sister was private; he’d be surprised if she felt comfortable confiding in a woman whose brother was the likely reason for her tears.
2
Darrow looked out the window of the plane at what looked like scorched earth. Texas was so different from Bedfordshire, the setting of the dukedom that had been in her family for generations. But this is what she’d wanted—a total departure from life as she knew it.
Sighing, she rolled her shoulders in an attempt to shrug away the anxiety that settled in them whenever she thought about “home.”
“I appreciate this, Z,” she said for the umpteenth time when the pilot announced they were getting ready to land.
“Wren will be happy to see you.”
“Not as happy as I’ll be to see her.”
Wren was the first person Darrow knew who worked in intelligence and didn’t talk to her like she wouldn’t be capable of following along or understanding. While she hadn’t seen her since January, Darrow hoped their friendship would continue to be as easy as it was the day they met, back when Sutton was still with MI5 and he brought the mysterious agent to the abbey for the first time.
“YES, THORNTON,” Darrow answered when her oldest brother, the current duke, called. They’d had a spat the day before, and she was in no mood to listen to him scold her a second time.
Thornton cleared his throat. “I called for two reasons. The first is to apologize for yesterday. I was out of line.”
If he expected her to apologize too, he would be sorely disappointed. He’d been lecturing her about taking on a more active social schedule with some of the charities their mother, the former duchess and now dowager, supported.
She’d tried to explain that wasn’t the life she wanted to lead, which only led to Thornton lecturing her about duty to service. She understood that part of it, she just couldn’t make him see that she wanted to serve in an entirely different way.
“What was the second reason for your call?”
“I wanted you to know that Sutton has a visitor on premises.”
“In what way is that relevant?”
“A female visitor.”
Darrow laughed. Her brothers were both such unbelievable gossips. “Thanks for letting me know. Was there anything else?”
He sighed. “Darrow, please let’s not carry this any further. I told you I was sorry. Please forgive me.”
Since he had only asked for her forgiveness rather than an apology in return, she would be gracious. “I do forgive you, Thornton, and thank you, sincerely.”
No sooner had she ended that call, than her mobile rang again.
“Hello, Sutton,” she said, seeing his name pop up on her screen. “I heard you’re out roaming the estate with an attractive woman.”
“Wondering if she might be able to borrow something to ride in.”
“Yes, of course, if you think…” She was about to say something ridiculous like “if we wear the same size,” but that was one of Sutton’s superpowers, it seemed.
He told her they’d be there shortly and rang off.
WHEN DARROW OPENED the door and invited Sutton and his friend in, she saw her brother hadn’t been far off in his assumption that the two women were the same size.
“Wren, I’d like you to meet my sister, Darrow, duchess-in-training and all-around imp. Darrow, this is Wren.”
She visibly bristled at her brother’s duchess comment and hoped that Wren didn’t think her annoyance had anything to do with her. It was just that after her spat with Thornton yesterday on the subject, the last thing she wanted to endure was more of the same from Sutton.
“Come with me,” she said to Wren, motioning for her to follow when her brother excused himself to the lavatory.
“I really appreciate this,” she said with an accent Darrow didn’t expect. “I hope it’s not too much of a bother.”
“It isn’t any bother at all,” Darrow told her, pulling trousers and jumpers from her wardrobe. “I keep my riding boots at the barn, but it looks as though you and I wear the same size, so you should be fine.”
“Again, thank you.”
When Darrow asked where she was from, Wren’s cheeks turned pink.
She laughed. “Texas.”
“Is that funny?”
Wren shook her head. “Your brother. When we met yesterday, he said I was pretty as a Georgia peach, but in an accent that sounded like a cross between…” Wren laughed again. “I don’t even know how to describe it other than I don’t think there’s a state in the union that would’ve claimed that affected accent as their own.”
“He’s a right wanker sometimes. I hope you gave it right back to him.”
“Rest assured, I did. Then, and at dinner.”
Clearly, Wren found whatever had transpired between her and Darrow’s brother in the last twenty-four hours highly amusing. Which, of course, made Darrow laugh too.
“I hope you made him take you somewhere posh.”
“Five Hertford, although not at my suggestion.”
Darrow raised a brow. “The poshest. Well done, Wren. I think we’re going to get on quite well.”
“You know,” she said, putting a hand on her hip. “I think we are too. I feel as though we’ve met before. Does that sound crazy?”
“Not at all, actually.” Darrow looked at the clothes laid out on her bed. “I’ll let you try these on if you’d like. I’ll wait downstairs and tease my brother endlessly.”
“SHE’S LOVELY,” Darrow said to Sutton, winking at him.
“Stop it.”
“What? You do realize that this is the first time you’ve brought a woman to the abbey since you were in upper school.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, and please lower your voice.”
“It’s true. I see why, though. She’s…nice. Not exactly who I might’ve expected, but better.”
When Wren appeared at the top of the stairs, Darrow watched her brother’s face light up like she’d never seen before. Had he finally met his proverbial match? Darrow hoped so. Wren was lovely, as she’d said to him, and seemed like great fun.
“MISS, please return your seat back to its upright position,” the flight attendant said, touching her arm.
“Oh, sorry. I was lost in thought for a moment.”
The woman walked away without acknowledging Darrow had spoken. How rudely American of her.
“Well, that won’t do,” she mumbled, shaking her head.
“What’s that? What won’t do?” asked Z.
“I was silently disparaging the manners of the country that I hope to make my permanent home.”
Z both laughed and raised a brow. “Ranch life is different than what you’re accustomed to, Darrow.”
“Which is precisely what I’m looking for. A fresh start, a new life, in a place as different from Whittaker Abbey as possible.”
Z didn’t respond, and Darrow was grateful for it. She knew that he, like her brothers, expected her to fit in the mold of an English noblewoman—a role that couldn’t be further from the way she saw herself.
3
Q uint looked up at the same time Wren did and watched the SUV as it was engulfed by a cloud of dust spun up from its barreling over the gravel road toward the main house.
“Who’s that?” she asked.
“Somebody to see you.”
She looked up at him. “Who?”
“Darrow Whittaker. Said she’s a friend of yours from England.”
“What’s she want?”
He shook his head, wishing he wasn
’t in the middle of this. “What do friends usually want?” Instead of sticking around to answer more questions, Quint rode off in the opposite direction.
A short while later, he saw his father on horseback, riding toward him.
“How pissed is she?” he asked when Z approached.
“Hard to tell. I think after the shock of how long Darrow plans to stay wore off, she remembered her manners along with how much she liked Wilder’s sister.”
“Wilder?” Was that someone’s name?
“I told you Wren was involved with one of Darrow’s brothers. Sutton Whittaker is his name. He’s currently interim chief of MI6.”
“How long did she tell Wren she planned to stay?”
“If she had her way, she’d never leave.”
Quint himself had told Z that this ranch belonged to the three of them; he had no business questioning who came to visit or for what length.
“How long are you staying?”
“Not long. Just until I’m certain Darrow is comfortable here.”
Quint nodded. “Better make sure Tee-Tee knows we’ll have two more for dinner.”
“I took care of it.”
“How about a beer, then? I could use one myself.”
“Sounds good, boy,” answered Z with a wink.
“WHAT’S SHE RUNNIN’ away from?” Quint asked his father on their ride back to the house.
“The same thing your sister is.”
“Is this woman’s life in danger?”
Z shook his head. “No, a failed relationship, I fear.”
“What do they think this is, some kind of dude ranch?”
“Yes,” said his father, nodding. “I’m certain that’s exactly the way your sister sees King-Alexander Ranch.”
Z rode ahead, and Quint didn’t care. He didn’t really mean Wren, even though her inclusion was assumed when he used the word “they” instead of “she.”
By the time he got back to the barn, his father was already in the house—exactly the way Quint had planned it. The only thing he felt bad about was that Tee-Tee and Wren were probably holding dinner until he got inside and that wasn’t fair to anyone.
One of the ranch hands offered to take Gunsmoke. Under normal circumstances, he’d take care of his horse himself, but in this case, he didn’t want to delay dinner any longer. Not to mention that his mama would be turning in her grave if she knew how poorly he was treating a guest upon her arrival at the ranch that had been in the King family for generations.
He hurried and washed up, went through the back door of the house so he could change out of his work clothes, and rushed down the hallway toward the dining room where he could hear his father and sister speaking to their guest.
Quint stopped and listened. Darrow Whittaker’s voice was like that of an angel. He’d always thought that girls from his home state had the most beautiful voices, but the soft-spoken woman with the English lilt had them beat by a Texas mile.
He was about to take another step when she laughed. Damn. If this woman was half as pretty as she sounded—wait—he couldn’t think about that. She was a guest in his home for an indefinite amount of time. Plus, she was there because some Englishman broke her sweet little heart.
He stopped to apologize to Tee-Tee for holding up dinner as he walked through the kitchen and into the dining room. She just shook her head and smiled like she usually did. Working on a ranch for all the years she had, she knew there was rarely a set time for any meal.
“There he is,” said his father when Quint joined them. “Come and meet our guest.”
Quint looked beyond his father to where the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen stood talking and laughing with his sister. Half as pretty as she sounded? Hell, she was twice as pretty.
The ends of her long, dark hair, even tied up in a ponytail, brushed the curve of her spine. He recognized the pink tank top and short denim skirt she wore, as well as her sandals—they belonged to his sister. However, they’d never looked half as good on Wren.
She turned and faced him when he approached.
“Welcome to King-Alexander Ranch,” he said, taking her outstretched hand in his. “I’m Quint.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Quint, and thank you for your hospitality. I’m Darrow Whittaker.”
When she shook his hand, he didn’t want to let go. Instead of one of those limp-wristers, Darrow’s grip was strong. And those dark brown eyes—damn—they looked right into his soul.
“How about dinner?” said Wren, clearing her throat.
Quint dropped Darrow’s hand and motioned for her and his sister to go ahead of him.
“Don’t…even…think…about it,” Wren seethed through gritted teeth when her friend was just out of earshot.
He held both hands up in surrender and laughed, but Wren didn’t.
“I mean it, Quint. Let her be.”
“I heard ya, Sis.”
Z lagged behind, so Quint did too.
“I’m leaving in the morning, unless you have a particular reason for me to stay.”
“Nah. Life ain’t gonna be much different for me, Pa.”
“Cor blimey,” groaned his father. “Your dear mother would box my ears hearing you talk that way.”
“We’ll be fine, Z. Go home.”
“I’ll have a chat with Wren when we’re finished.”
Quint nodded. As soon as dinner was over, he planned to hightail it outta there. In fact, as long as Miss Darrow Whittaker was a guest at King-Alexander Ranch, he planned to make himself scarce. It was the only way he could ensure that he’d keep his hands to himself like his sister had warned him to.
Tee-Tee had made chicken enchiladas with beans and rice for their guest, and there was a pitcher of what he guessed were frozen margaritas on the sideboard.
“Can I pour a glass for anyone?” he asked when he got one for himself.
“I’d love one,” said Darrow. “What is it?”
Quint almost looked up at the ceiling. Beautiful, obviously a great sense of humor, and adventurous. Maybe he should consider going to England with Z because the woman smiling at him from the other side of the room was all sorts of everything he liked.
Wren answered Darrow when he didn’t, telling her all about Tee-Tee’s frozen concoction.
“She won’t tell anyone what the secret ingredient is,” said Wren.
“I know what it is,” said Quint, setting Darrow’s drink on the table.
“You do not.” Wren stood to get herself a glass.
“I would’ve gotten it for you,” he muttered.
“Sit down and eat, Quint,” Wren said over her shoulder. “And don’t lie. I know damn well Tee-Tee would never tell you.”
“Ever consider the possibility that I got some of Z’s spy blood in me. You’re not the only spook in this house, you know.”
Wren spun around and looked at their guest. Shit. Darrow didn’t know? How the hell was that possible?
“It’s okay,” she said, resting her hand on Quint’s forearm. “Both my brothers are with SIS. Or they were. I know more than most people think I do. We’re probably the same that way.”
He looked from her hand up to her eyes. Was this woman even real? The warmth that was traveling up his arm from her touch sure felt real.
“Excuse me,” he said, getting up from the table. “Anyone need hot sauce?” He was halfway to the kitchen when he heard Z say there was already some on the table, but he kept walking.
“You don’t know my secret ingredient,” muttered Tee-Tee when he went into the kitchen. “You’re just showing off for the pretty senorita.”
“You found me out,” he said to the woman who had been the head cook at the ranch since before Quint was born. What he and Wren would’ve done without her after their mother died, he didn’t know.
He put his arm around the tiny woman, leaned over, and kissed her temple. “I gotta get back out to the barn, but save me some of that delicious dinner, will you?”
She shook her head and handed him a foil-covered plate.
“Who’s this for?”
“You, míjo. I’ll let them know you were called away.”
“Thanks, Tee-Tee, I love ya.”
4
There was no doubt her cheeks were bright red. It’s what always happened when Darrow was embarrassed. What had caused Wren’s brother to get up so abruptly and not just leave the table but, according to the woman Wren had called Tee-Tee, leave the house entirely?
“Mister Quint was called away,” the woman reported. “He apologizes.”
Had she been too forward when she put her hand on his arm? And if so, was that reason to walk away from the dinner table? She was merely trying to be friendly.
No matter. She’d overstepped, and she’d be sure not to make that mistake again. The cowboy was likely disgruntled about her being here at all. Maybe he, like most people in her life, believed she was a spoiled “duchess-in-training” as her brother Sutton had called her. She wasn’t, and she’d prove it to him. Darrow had spent much of her childhood at the knee of Whittaker Abbey’s head groundskeeper, Wellie. She knew all about hard work.
She tried to stifle a yawn and put her hand over her mouth, discreetly looking at the time when she did. It was two in the morning in England, and after a long day of traveling, she was exhausted. Plus, she intended to hit the ground running tomorrow and prove she wasn’t merely a house guest to be entertained. If she had her way, she’d never return to England again, except to visit. If she was going to make that dream come true, she had to create a life for herself here. Perhaps once she got her footing at King-Alexander Ranch, she could go work at some other Texas ranch.
Duchess-in-training? Hell, no. That wasn’t the life she’d ever wanted, and since the kind she’d always dreamed of was too far out of her reach, this one would do instead.
“You must be exhausted,” said Wren.
“I am. I’m so sorry to be a spoilsport on my first night here.”
“Not at all. Come with me.”
Darrow stood when Wren did and picked up her plate.
“Leave that,” her friend said. “Tee-Tee will take care of it.”
Shadow (Military Intelligence Section 6 Book 4) Page 2
