Barbara Dunlop - Millions To Spare

“So you broke into my stable.”

“I got trapped in the trailer.”

“And you took a DNA sample?”

“Saliva.”

“Without my permission.”

She pushed back her slick, wet hair. “There was no point in upsetting you. The chances of disqualifying Millions to Spare were slim.”

“At least he’d be alive.”

“Do you honestly think I had anything to do with his death?”

Harrison rocked away from the door and took a step forward. “How would I know? All you’ve ever done since I met you is lie to me.”

“I’m not lying.”

He scoffed out a laugh, his emotionless gray eyes sending a chill through her damp body. “Now, where have I heard that before?”

She closed the space between them. “You have to listen to me,” she said.

“No, you have to listen to me. I’m going to call the Prestons. I’m going to check out your latest story. And then maybe, just maybe, I won’t send you back to jail.”

A cold rush of fear snaked through Julia at the thought of that jail cell, and she gave an involuntary shiver.

“You have to take a blood sample,” she told him. “Before they cremate Millions to Spare’s body.”

He shrugged out of his jacket. “You’re not in a position to demand anything.”

“I’m not demanding,” she assured him.

He draped the jacket around her shoulders and paused.

“I’m asking,” she whispered. “I lost the saliva sample, and then I took some hair from his mane, but I’m not sure…” She took a deep breath. “It would mean a lot to the Prestons.”

“You know,” said Harrison, something close to compassion flickering in his eyes. “This is the very first time your actions have actually matched your words.”

She didn’t know what to say to that.

He straightened the lapels of the jacket, and the backs of his knuckles briefly grazed her breasts. She was suddenly and sharply aware that they were alone, and she was barely dressed, and his word was law here.

“Finally,” he said, voice husky.

“Finally what?” she asked nervously as an undeniable sizzle of attraction filled the air.

“Finally, you’re being honest with me.”

A moment of taut silence stretched between them. He shifted almost imperceptibly toward her, his eyes clearly telegraphing his intent.

“Don’t get the idea that I’m easy,” she quickly warned him.

“Because you wear a thong?”

“A gentleman would forget about that.”

He shifted closer still, tugging ever so slightly on the lapels of his jacket. But, surprisingly, she wasn’t afraid. There was no anger in his expression, more curiosity than anything.

“Whatever gave you the idea I was a gentleman?”

“You’re the Right Honorable Lord Harrison William Arthur Beaumont-Rochester.”

His gaze fixed on her lips, eyes darkening with obvious desire. “That only means I’m from a long line of reprobates and libertines.”

“Nothing good can come of you kissing me,” she pointed out, even though it was starting to seem like a very interesting idea.

“So far, nothing good has come from me meeting you.”

“So cut your losses.”

She could almost see the debate going on inside his head. It lasted several minutes. And by the time he eased back, her pulse was racing and her skin was prickling.

He dropped his hands and nodded to his jacket. “There’s a phone inside the pocket.”

Seconds after that, he’d walked out, leaving Julia alone, sunlight streaming through the open door.

Harrison quietly entered the palace through a side door, heading directly into a small study and sitting down at the computer. He brought up an article on Leopold’s Legacy and quickly scanned it through. By the end, his worry over Julia and the secretary-general’s reception was replaced by a new fear for Cadair Racing.

Leopold’s Legacy’s sire had originally been listed as Apollo’s Ice. Apollo’s Ice was also Millions to Spare’s sire.

The odds were overwhelming that Millions to Spare’s death was linked to the Leopold’s Legacy mystery. Which meant it was somehow linked to Julia. Which meant he needed to talk to the Prestons, and he needed to talk to them as soon as possible.

He asked the first staff member he came across to have the vet meet him in his study, to please invite Julia to dry off and meet them there, too, and to bring him all the information available on the Prestons and Leopold’s Legacy.

Finally, he forced a relaxed, cheerful expression onto his face and veered into the great hall, where Alex would have taken Brittany.

“Grandmother,” he greeted, crossing to where she sat on a French provincial chair overlooking the east garden. He held out both hands to Lady Hannah Beaumont-Rochester.

As always, his grandmother was perfectly groomed, every blond hair in place, tasteful earrings at her ears. She was wearing a shimmering, brown-and-gold-leaf-patterned blouse paired with a plain, brown skirt.

She smiled warmly, reaching out to touch him. “Harrison. So good to see you, dear.”

He leaned forward for a quick hug and cheek kiss.

“How was your flight?” he asked her.

“Very nice. But, my, it is hot here today.”

“Shall I have the air-conditioning adjusted?”

“It’s fine inside.” Her gaze shifted to Brittany, who had stood up from her chair.

“Brittany,” Harrison greeted, holding out both hands to her, and drawing her in for a slightly more personal hug.

Then he drew back to look into her smiling face. Like his grandmother, everything about Brittany was perfect. From her pale pink-and-white outfit to her jewelry, her hair. She was stunningly beautiful, always had been.

Harrison was ten years her senior, and he could remember every stage of her growing up. No awkward teenage years for Brittany; she’d always been poised and attractive.

“I explained about the accident,” Alex put in.

Harrison shifted his attention to Alex, looking for clues on the story he’d come up with.

“That poor girl,” said Grandmother.

“A close call,” said Alex, and Harrison waited to understand.

“Harrison had to haul her out of the pool,” Alex continued. “At first, we thought mouth-to-mouth might be necessary. But a few firm backslaps did the trick.”

“Right.” Harrison nodded. It was lame as stories went, but he supposed it was better than admitting he’d been about to strangle Julia.

He looked at Brittany, and he couldn’t help but contrast her crisp appearance to Julia’s disheveled state. Brittany inspired respect. Julia, well, Julia had inspired something completely different.

He gave his head a quick shake to banish the image. “Please, may I offer you lunch?” He gestured to the hallway that would take them to several informal dining areas.

His grandmother came slowly to her feet.

Alex moved to help her, but Harrison gave him a quick shake of the head. Lady Beaumont-Rochester did not yet take kindly to assistance.

“Please,” she said. “Not outside in the heat.”

“We have a lovely dining room overlooking the fountains,” said Harrison. He gallantly held out an arm to his grandmother.

Alex stepped in next to Brittany.

“I’m afraid I can’t join you for lunch,” Harrison said in a voice loud enough that they could all hear it. “Some last-minute preparations for the party tomorrow night, and a few other business details. I hope you don’t mind.”

“You men and your business,” said Grandmother. But Harrison knew it would take a whole lot more than an inconvenient business meeting to upset her today. She’d be thrilled by his invitation to Brittany. He could probably do no wrong in her eyes for quite a while to come.

“Of course we don’t mind,” Brittany put in.

“I’m sure Alex would be happy to join you,” Harrison offered.

“My pleasure,” said Alex in a carefully neutral voice.

Harrison was sure he was the only one who realized Alex was ticked off. Alex didn’t want to entertain the ladies over lunch. He wanted to find out what the hell was going on with Millions to Spare and Julia.

Brittany Livingston didn’t like being humored, and she certainly didn’t like being lied to, and Mr. Alex Lindley had been doing both for the past hour. That woman at the pool hadn’t been drowning. Harrison was clearly reaming her out. Which meant she must have done something pretty terrible, because Brittany had known Harrison her entire life, and she’d never seen him anywhere near that angry.

And something was still going on.

Alex Lindley had glanced at his watch at least three times since they’d finished lunch and Lady Hannah had excused herself for a nap.

“If there’s somewhere you have to be,” Brittany offered, her tone a study in civility.

“Nowhere important,” said Alex, though the strain around his mouth told her differently.

It was on the tip of her tongue to probe for answers.

Where was Harrison? Who was the mysterious woman? What kind of party disaster would take him away from his duties as host?

Lady Hannah had been pushing Harrison to propose to Brittany for years. She’d made no secret of the fact she thought they were a good match. And she’d clearly taken this invitation as a signal that he was ready to commit.

Brittany had to admit, she was completely open to a signal from Harrison. He was a fine man. He’d make a good husband and a terrific father.

The list of men acceptable to Brittany’s own father was relatively short. Not that Brittany couldn’t have defied her father and married whomever she wanted. But, honestly, she’d never met a man remotely worth the trouble of being shunned and disinherited.

But if Harrison’s invitation truly was a signal, then his behavior since she’d arrived was bizarre. And Alex’s lame excuses and prattling conversation were more than frustrating.

“Would you care for a stroll in the gardens?” asked Alex in a slightly strained voice.

She gazed at him, biting her tongue against questions about his role at Cadair.

He seemed out of place in the elegant dining alcove, as if the room could barely contain his raw energy. His hands were fisted on his knees. He had a rakish chin with an interesting little scar on the left side. He was tall and muscular with worldly brown eyes and a shock of dark hair that whisked across his forehead.

“Why do I get the feeling that’s not a question you ask a lot of women?” she dared.

His dark eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Are you truly a stroll-in-the-gardens kind of man?”

“I don’t know what you’re-”

“You have somewhere you want to be, true?”

He didn’t answer, but there was something about his smoldering expression that allowed her to drop social convention.

“And it has something to do with the woman by the pool?”

Still nothing. But his eyes darkened further.

Brittany waded determinedly into the silence. “Please don’t let me keep you.” No sense in both of them being frustrated.

“I’m at your service, ma’am.” The polite words were somewhat compromised by his tight jaw.

Brittany decided to throw all caution to the wind. “Who is she?”

“A walk?” he offered again. “The garden?”

But now that she’d started down this road, she didn’t want to back off. “Then, who are you?”

“I’m the senior vice president of Cadair International.”

That surprised her. She didn’t know what she’d expected. A bodyguard, maybe? “Funny we haven’t met before.”

“I don’t attend many social functions.”

“Ah.” She sat forward, liking that his facade had cracked. “Was that a slight?”

“No, ma’am. Of course not.”

“Are you suggesting social functions are the only places you’d find me?” It was probably true. But there were days Brittany wished it weren’t.

He stared at her in silence. There was something dangerous in his eyes, and she found it intrigued her. Men never looked at her that way. Most of them were too afraid of her father.

“Can we please,” he finally said on an exasperated sigh, “for the love of God, go for a walk in the garden?”

“If you tell me who she is.”

“She’s Julia Nash. A reporter for Equine Earth Magazine.”

Brittany rocked back. That wasn’t what she’d expected. Not that she’d expected anything in particular. “She must have written some story.”

Alex rose. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean,” said Brittany, coming to her feet, “the woman wasn’t drowning.”

“You really need to talk to Harrison about this.”

“Why? Don’t you make up all his lies for him?”

Alex’s jaw went tight all over again. “Does Harrison know you’re like this?”

Brittany couldn’t help but grin. She wasn’t normally like this. But there was something about Alex that brought out the devil in her. “You mean nosy?”