Stepping inside, she flicked a light switch then pointed out a framed photograph, hanging on the wall, of a grand turn-of-the-previous-century red timber barn.
“This one doesn’t smell the same,” she said, “doesn’t have the same feel, but it’s easier to keep clean and has loads more space.”
As the smell of fresh hay and horse filled his lungs, Daniel concurred. This was a clean wide structure, with two-dozen individual stalls, as well as windows and a skylight that would allow in an ideal amount of natural light during the day. Not the personality of the old post-and-beam barn with its massive hayloft, but far more practical.
Times change.
Elizabeth crossed to the first stall on the left. Hooves pawed at a straw floor, then came a welcoming snort, a sound that made Daniel smile and wish his father had listened to him for once and let him learn how to ride. Hunting was Judge Buck Warren’s passion. Daniel still hadn’t forgiven his father for that.
Elizabeth arrived at the stall gate. A regal-looking horse, with a glossy black coat and mane, greeted her by nudging its muzzle against her shoulder. Elizabeth, so small against this other’s height and might, seemed to come alive as she scrubbed her palm over its cheek and murmured words that had Daniel longing to be on the receiving end.
Her face filled with adoration, she looked over. “This is Ame Sœur.”
“Kindred Spirit.”
For the first time he noticed a delicate dimple either side of her smile. “I’ll have you eating escargot yet.”
He pretended to shudder. “You two seem good friends.”
“The best,” she said, and the horse blew through his lips as if to agree. “We try to saddle up every day.”
“Unless you’re away.”
The motion of her hand stroking his muzzle stopped while she fished into her coat pocket and extracted a huge red apple. Her horse’s head reared back as his lips wobbled, searching out the treat. He was crunching into the fruit when she replied in a somber tone.
“Daniel, did Abby say something to you?”
“Say something? About what?”
Searching his eyes, she seemed to consider his response before she dropped her gaze then refocused on the horse, which was chomping and nudging for more. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
When he moved closer, she pulled another apple from her pocket. “Want to feed him?”
“Maybe later.”
“We mostly use trucks and bikes these days.” The horse bit into the second apple. “But if I check the stock and fences, I like to do it with Ame.”
“Right now I’m interested in what you think Abigail might have told me.”
He couldn’t believe it was anything sinister. So what was it that had this normally poised woman looking suddenly flustered?
Still, whatever it was didn’t concern him … unless she wanted it to.
He tilted his head. “And if you want me to back off, say the word.”
With those diamond drops sparkling beneath the fluorescents, she looked him square on for a deliberative moment then finally blew out a breath.
“My parents included a caveat in their will,” she said. “I’m obliged to stay here, in Royal, a good deal of any given year.”
He frowned. “What do you mean—a good deal?”
“I get two months to travel outside of Royal.”
He took a moment to digest the ramifications. “And if you’re gone for, say, two months and one day?”
“I forfeit my inheritance.”
He wanted to laugh. “You’re kidding, right? You lose the ranch?”
“There are reasons—”
“The reason is called blackmail.”
Disgust flooded her face. “My parents didn’t blackmail me.”
“What do you call it when someone threatens to take away what you care about if you don’t do exactly what they want?”
Hell, he was an expert on the subject. How many times growing up had he heard one or the other of his divorced parents say, “Daniel, you won’t see your mother/father again if you don’t …” Fill in the blank. By the end of it, he didn’t care if he ever saw either one of them again.
Her fists plowed into those coat pockets at the same time her chin kicked up. “It’s not blackmail. It’s called handing down responsibility.”
Poor, misguided Miss Milton, Daniel thought, and slowly shook his head.
“You are young, aren’t you.”
Her eyes flashed. “I’m as much an adult, and in charge of my life, as you are.”
“That’s why you’re still doing what your parents tell you.”
She studied him with eyes that burned.
“Do you come from this kind of background?”
His shoulders went back. “I refused to have anything to do with my parents’ money.” Their bribes. He was a self-made man.
“You shunned your parents?” Her tone was pitying. “No. Of course you wouldn’t understand.”
“I understand you’re kidding yourself if you think you’re in charge of your life,” he said. “Way I see it, you’re walking around in chains most of the time.” To a homebody, the caveat might not seem like a hardship. But Elizabeth made no secret of the fact she loved to travel. Explore new lands. Meet new people. She was energetic and, God knew, she had the means. But what good was money if she was forbidden from using it the way she’d most like? Elizabeth hadn’t been given a choice, like he hadn’t been given a choice when he was growing up. Being helpless—voiceless—had to be the worst feeling in the world.
“Is that why you don’t see your parents, Daniel?” she asked calmly. “Because you don’t like chains? Don’t like ties? Because you wanted to be in charge?”
He gave a jaded smile as emotion filled his chest. Elizabeth Milton knew nothing about him. He was wrong to have pushed. Wrong to have wanted to get involved.
“It’s been a great evening,” he told her in a level no-hard-feelings tone. “It’s time I got back.”
Her mouth uncharacteristically tight, she nodded. “I’m sure you need to rise early, as do I.”
“Thank Nita for the meal.”
“Good luck with your future endeavors.”
“I’ll walk you back to the house.”
“No need. I’ve walked that path so often, I’d know it in a tornado.”
She was welcome to it.
He moved out of the stables, heard her close the door. Head down, he’d taken a half-dozen steps when she called out.
“Daniel. I want you to know, I’m happy staying here,” she told him as he turned around. “Sometimes it’s a little … inconvenient. But I’ve come to see this ranch is my future.”
“That’s fine.” Totally her business. He tipped his head. “Good night.”
He’d begun to turn away when she interrupted again.
“You don’t believe me.”
“It shouldn’t matter what I believe.”
“It’s only until I turn thirty.”
By