shrugged. “Why not? Who’s it going to hurt?”
“I still think—”
Darcy leaned forward, interrupting him. “Nick, promise you’ll tell no one where I am. Not even my parents.”
“They won’t ask. They’re in Europe at our uncle’s villa.”
“That’s right. I’m supposed to be there next week, aren’t I?”
“Yes, for Aunt Rosalind’s birthday.”
“You’ll have to make up some story for me, Nick. Come on, be a sport. Do we have a bet?” Darcy extended his arm and stared at his cousin. “I pass as an ordinary guy for one month or I hand over the keys to the Jag. And if I win, your new, very expensive boat is mine to use for the next six months.”
Nicholas was silent for a moment, then grasped Darcy’s hand. “Ah what the hell, you’re going to do it anyway. You’ve got a bet.” He poured them each another tot of bourbon from the crystal decanter. “What in hell are you going to do in Cecil, Kentucky?”
“I’ll get by. Don’t worry.” Darcy downed his drink.
“I still think this one of the most crack-brained—”
“Cool it, Nick. You’re my lawyer, not a mother hen.” Darcy headed for the door, turning to give his cousin an affectionate smile. “Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen. I’m just going to have some fun, that’s all.”
“All right, but whatever you do, don’t seduce all the local farm girls. Your family won’t take kindly to that, especially if I have to clean up the mess.”
“I don’t spend my entire time thinking about women.”
“You don’t have to—they think about you.”
“I can’t help that,” Darcy exclaimed. “Besides, when did you have to clean up a mess beyond Christina Petrou? Which wasn’t entirely my fault. It was just fun, till her parents got involved.”
“All I’m saying is be a bit circumspect, all right?”
“I won’t do anything anyone could misunderstand.” Darcy exhaled, getting his quick flare of temper under control. “Unless they ask for it, of course.”
Nicholas gave him a sardonic look. “Oh, now that’ll be a comfort to me while you’re gallivanting around Cecil.”
Darcy laughed. “Trust me, if I see a good-looking babe, I’ll turn the other cheek. Or at least I’ll try.”
“Ah hell, go,” Nicholas said, picking up his drink. “But call if you need me.”
Darcy waved as he left the room. “See you in a month.”
HAVING MADE HIS DECISION to leave, Darcy didn’t waste time in getting on his way. Monday morning, just after dawn, he hefted a large duffel bag into the seat of the old pickup truck he’d borrowed from one of his grooms, and hit the road. He felt an unaccustomed feeling of freedom. When was the last time he’d had an adventure like this? Never, he thought. His adventures had always included exotic locales, first-class accommodations and expensive equipment. At the moment he had five hundred dollars in his wallet, a few changes of clothes and a couple of his favorite books. He was ready to roll.
He ignored the interstates and took back roads, meandering through the familiar rolling valleys of Virginia, then the mountains of West Virginia, passing through small towns that brought a smile, and over rivers and creeks with names that celebrated pioneer discovery. He slipped unnoticed into Kentucky, into the eastern Appalachian hills, and finally into the majesty and promise of the bluegrass region—the grazing land, rolling wooded vistas and wide valleys that surrounded his final destination.
SILVER BRAYBOURNE TOOK a firmer grasp on the lunge lines as her horse walked in a tight circle. “All right, now,” she crooned, “just settle down. You know what this is all about.” Lucky Hand wasn’t a young, inexperienced horse, but one who needed retraining if he was ever to reach his potential. And Silver thought this horse had plenty of potential. The problem lately was convincing her father.
“That’s right, let’s smooth it out.” She jammed her old baseball hat down on her head as she studied the stallion’s gait, paying close attention to the movement of his back legs as she let the line out a bit. She’d had the horse for about two months, but had only been working him hard for one. “We’ve had a lot of winners come out of Braybourne Farm. I expect you to do your share.” The horse glanced her way as if he understood. “You’re a winner. I just know it, and I’m going to prove it, no matter what anyone says.” After all, they’d bred and trained a number of winning racehorses, even if they hadn’t produced a Derby winner. But she could change that if she managed this farm. She lightly cracked her whip, smiling as the horse responded. Daddy was just getting cold feet, not up to taking a risk. She’d convince him otherwise or she didn’t deserve to be a Braybourne.
Silver blinked sweat from her eyes and wiped her forehead on the sleeve of her old cotton shirt. Damn, it was hot. She couldn’t remember when it had last been so hot in Cecil. June in Kentucky was generally pleasant, but this year was already promising to be a scorcher. She hoped it wouldn’t be dry, too. The past few years had been hard on their crops, not to mention their horses. They couldn’t afford to take any more losses.
“’Scuse me, Miz Braybourne,” a voice interrupted her. “Doc Winters sent me over with some of that new liniment you was asking about.”
Silver glanced over her shoulder at the young man giving her an admiring glance from behind the fence.
“Hi, Jamie. Just put it in the office for me, okay?”
“You gotta sign for it. Doc Winters said you gotta sign for it.”
“Why don’t you sign for me, Jamie? I’m fine with that.”
“The doc wouldn’t like it. He’s got a new office manager who says he’s gotta clean up his act, and she’s making the doc’s life miserable.”
Silver laughed. “Well, I’m almost finished anyway, so bring the paper on out here. I wouldn’t want you to break the rules on my account.” That was her job. Breaking rules, pushing to see how far she could go, before someone hauled her back to the gate. Unfortunately, most of the time she was pulled up short before she’d even gotten onto the field. But that didn’t stop her from trying.
Jamie slipped into the paddock and picked his way over to Silver, taking care to avoid the big black stallion at the other end of the line. He held out a professional-looking clipboard. “Here you go, Miz Braybourne.”
“You can call me Silver, Jamie. You used to.” She sent the young man a teasing grin. “Before you remembered that I changed your diapers when I baby-sat for you.”
Jamie blushed and scuffed his toe in the dirt. “I wish you’d forget about that.”
Silver held the lunge line in one hand as she scribbled her name with the other. “Can’t, Jamie. You had such a cute little backside.”
Silver’s grin expanded as Jamie turned every shade of red. “Ah, geez!”
A high-pitched cackle erupted from the fence, followed by a halfhearted command, “Girl, you leave that there young man alone. Ain’t no call to embarrass him that way.”
Silver handed the clipboard back to Jamie, smiling at his muttered “thank you” as he walked to his pickup truck. She looked over her shoulder at Travis O’Neill, whom her grandfather had nicknamed Tater when he was just a little sprout. “Tater, where’ve you been? Dad was down here looking for you a little while ago.”
“He found me,” he replied, resting his elbows on the fence.
Silver stared at him. There was something about his tone of voice…. She slowed her horse to a walk. “Is anything wrong?”
Tater