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Brody leaned forward, the gleam in his eyes intense. “My grandparents used to come here. They’d build a fire and…
As his hands sank into her hair, her heart trembled. She could well imagine what his grandparents had done around a blazing campfire, with the wide open prairie spread out beneath them. Had he brought his wife here too? The thought slid away into oblivion as his dark gaze centered on her lips, clung there.
.....
Brody tried very hard not to wrinkle his brow. He’d seen her eyes when she’d first stepped into the corridor. He and Martha had taken her by surprise, and for a tiny moment Miss Farnsworth had looked small and vulnerable. Her eyes had gone a little wide and then darkened with a whole lot of assessment. She probably didn’t even realize it but she’d bitten down on her lip and he’d been tempted to laugh. A cute little thing, he’d thought. A little out of her element, pretty and fresh, and he’d wanted to make her blush.
But then he’d realized who she was. A representative sent to assess his stock. A woman who knew horses, supposedly better than most men he knew. His Highness had said so when he called. Brody couldn’t dispute that fact…it took a keen eye to identify an offspring by its parent, and the way she touched Pretty was confident and kind. For some reason Lucy Farnsworth was willing to sacrifice comfort for isolation. Why?
.....
