Spring Blossom (9 page)

“I’ve had Pride turned out into the paddock
so you can see him running free,” she said as she picked up a cup
and saucer.

“Coffee is here,” he pointed out, as he
tried to find his equilibrium in determining just how to approach
her.

“Thank you,” she returned with strained
politeness.

“What have you done to your hair?” he asked
stupidly.

She frowned at him briefly as she reached
for the coffee pot. “You’re a very rude man, do you know that?”

He watched her pour the hot, black brew into
her cup. “I suppose I am. But I’ve never seen a hairstyle quite so
severe.”

Margaret raised a hand in an unconscious
gesture and patted the neat knot on the top of her head. “It keeps
my hair out of my eyes when I’m working with the horses,” she said
matter-of-factly. She turned to Jennifer as she pulled out a chair
for herself. “Go and get ready for school. Now.”

Jennifer looked unhappy, but she obeyed and
Hunter frowned as he watched the girl hurriedly leave the room.

Margaret seemed to concentrate only on
lifting her cup to her lips, her gaze shadowed and turned
downward.

“You’re not going to eat?” he asked.

She shook her head. Her stomach had been
behaving nervously, but she was not about to admit that to him.
While she might have to deal with him on a business level, Margaret
had no intention of engaging him in personal conversations. Instead
she said simply, “The stallions are ready for you to view.”

She was all business and harsh edges and
Hunter was sadly disappointed.

“Your father won’t be joining us?” he asked
reasonably.

Margaret firmly set down her coffee cup.
“The horses are my responsibility, Mr. Maguire. You may dicker with
father over price, but I am in charge of training and conditioning
the animals.” With that, she got to her feet, obviously intending
to leave.

“Along with the training and conditioning of
those in the entire household,” he muttered.

“I have to see that the girls are preparing
for school,” she added, frowning because he had spoken so softly
she had not heard his comments. She was, however, certain he had
not complimented her. “I'll meet you at the barns in a few
moments.”

As she walked toward the door, Hunter looked
out the window; the sun was barely up! “Surely it’s too early for
school?” he asked.

“And girls will dawdle away the hours if
they are not reminded of their responsibilities,” she said over her
shoulder.

He merely shook his head, wondering if she
ever dawdled away an hour or two. Somehow, he thought not.

*

“That is Passion’s Pride,” Margaret
announced as she joined Hunter at the corral gate. “The beast,” she
added fondly.

Hunter noticed she continued to frown. “He’s
a magnificent animal, Maggie.” He turned his attention back to the
center paddock. Passion’s Pride pawed the ground and snorted before
throwing his head high and racing to the far fence. He was a
magnificent specimen of muscle, sinew, and spirit all drawn up
tight as a drum in a sleek black package. “He needs to run,” Hunter
murmured, keeping his eyes on the horse. “He might treat his ladies
a little more gently if he had the freedom to run often enough.” He
turned to Margaret. “Was he bred here?”

Keeping her manner crisp, Margaret nodded
her head. “Sired by my stallion, Eclipse, out of a mare called
Desert Passion. Two of our finest animals.”

“Truly outstanding,” Hunter murmured as he
returned his attention to the horse. “He is fine to breed for good,
strong saddle stock and that is where the best money lies for me.
And he has me intrigued.”

“If you’re feeling up to a challenge,” she
said, nodding toward the prancing beast, “be my guest,” she added
with a false smile.

Hunter cast his gaze briefly toward the
clear blue summer sky. “And I thought the sun would shine all day,”
he said softly.

So, she thought, he expected turbulence.
Well, she wasn’t above providing a little if need be. The truth was
Margaret had thought twice about facing Hunter this morning, but
the horses were her domain and she had her pride. She had dressed
plainly for the second part of her plan, and for the third, she’d
decided to ignore him for the better part, keeping their
relationship strictly business. By now he must be thoroughly
disillusioned as to any other possible relationship between them so
she would survive the few remaining days of his visit.

Then life would return to normal.

She was glad her father had promised to join
them at the stables. Alastair had long claimed that Hunter was a
master horseman and Margaret saw this as an opportunity to put the
man to the test.

And so, she ignored Hunter’s comments and
smiled a greeting as her father walked up to the paddock to join
them. She hoped he was about to see his friend land on his rump in
the dust.

Pride was a valuable animal; one they could
not afford to lose. And, since her father would not listen to
reason on the matter, her only choice was to dissuade Hunter from
purchasing the stallion.

Smiling sweetly at her parent, she said, “I
shall have the boys get Pride saddled, Papa.”

Alastair nodded absently as she left, but he
was more concerned when she returned moments later, smiling
smugly.

“This should only take a moment,” she said
and Alastair’s frowned deepened.

She did not give her father an opportunity
to question her as she watched two lanky youths enter the paddock.
One hefted a saddle onto the fence railing then followed the other
boy who clutched a bridle. It took some time and quick maneuvering
to corner the proud black animal, but they eventually managed to
catch hold of the horse’s halter and deftly got bit and bridle into
place, carefully avoiding the hind legs. With the horse prancing
between them, they started toward the gate, but Hunter had already
entered the large enclosure and was upon them.

“Leave the saddle,” he said, reaching for
the reins. “If this fellow is truly not a gentleman, I want to feel
him moving beneath me. Perhaps then I can detect any tricks he has
in mind before he unseats me.”

“Yes, sir,” one of the young men managed to
say as they both moved away, wide-eyed. “There’s goin’ to be hell
to pay when that man breaks his neck,” he muttered to his
companion.

Hunter stood and talked quietly to the
animal, rubbing the soft muzzle and velvety ears.

“My God,” Alastair whispered, “he’s going to
ride without a saddle.”

“I’m certain he knows what he is doing,
Papa,” Margaret said as her heart began to beat a wild tattoo. Her
plan had to work, she thought, as she maintained total
concentration on the horse and rider. She couldn’t lose Pride; no
matter the cost. But some small part of her admired Hunter’s
nerve.

Hunter continued to talk soothingly as he
caressed the animal’s sleek neck, then he ran his hand along the
muscular back. Still talking, he grabbed a handful of mane at the
withers and easily swung up onto Pride’s back.

The great stallion stood still, awaiting a
command. Not until Hunter gathered the reins more firmly in his
hands did the horse appeared distressed.

And the man immediately knew he had
trouble…several hundred pounds of trouble.

Pride tossed his head fretfully and began to
worry at the bit. Hunter kept the reins firm and short; if Pride
managed to get his head down, he would buck. Instead, the horse
twisted and ran toward the far fence. Hunter immediately understood
the trick. Pride would turn at the last minute, raking his rider
along the wooden rails.

Hunter was stunned that he had absolutely no
control over the horse; a horse that was not unschooled.
Instantaneously he realized the horse had the bit between his
teeth.

After that there was no more time for
thought, other than to seek the best means of escape. If he did not
bail out now, he could lose his right leg. So…over the side he
went, rolling several times as he hit the ground before lying flat
on his back.

Margaret flinched visibly at the sound of
man hitting solid earth.

“Damn!” Hunter muttered and beat a fist into
the dirt.

“Get that animal back in his stall!”
Alastair blustered.

“No! Wait!” Hunter rolled smoothly to his
feet and called to the stable boys. “Wait!” he said again. “Let me
see him.”

Margaret turned her head long enough to see
the worried expression on her father’s face. “Mr. Maguire is an
experienced horseman, Papa,” she said, trying to alleviate his
fears. “I’m sure he has taken many spills.”

Alastair cast her a baleful look. “And that
makes this fall acceptable?”

Margaret shook her head, frowning as she
returned her attention to the paddock. “Not acceptable, Papa, but
necessary.”

Alastair’s frown intensified. “Margaret…”
But he grew quiet as his attention was drawn again to the stallion
and to Hunter.

The stable boys had captured the horse and
Hunter stood staring at the beast. Pride continued to worry at the
bit and the froth from his mount was speckled with blood. Hunter
stepped forward and, keeping the reins around Pride’s neck, dropped
the bit free. His lips tightened and his eyes darkened as he saw
the severe curb. “What bit does this horse usually wear?” he asked
the older boy.

“A snaffle, sir,” the boy answered
timidly.

“Then why did you put such a harsh bit on
him today?” But, really, he did not need to ask as the two boys
looked fearfully at each other and then, pleadingly, back at
Hunter. In an attempt to quash his anger, Hunter ran his fingers
through his black hair and took a deep breath. “Miss Downing’s
instructions?” he asked softly, and the older boy managed a slight
nod of affirmation. Sighing heavily, he asked, “Is there a
hackamore in the tack room?”

The older boy smiled. “Yes, sir.”

“Get it for me, will you? This animal’s
mouth is sore enough.” He turned to the younger boy. “Can you hold
him here on your own?” The lad nodded, reaching for the reins.
“I’ll be back. And make certain you hold him well. There is about
to be a ruckus and I don’t want him frightened into running.”

The boy nodded his head nervously and slowly
coaxed the anxious animal across the paddock, away from the area in
which the Downings stood watching outside the fence.

Hunter moved with a strong, assured gait as
he crossed the paddock and left the gate wide open when he rounded
the fence toward the two who stood watching. His gaze remained
determinedly fixed on the blue eyes that were growing larger with
each step he took in her direction. When he had only a step or two
to take, Margaret sensed his purpose and bolted; but not quickly
enough. Hunter seized her upper arm and spun her around to face
him. “Come with me,” he said evenly.

Margaret fought against the strong fingers
that commanded, as much as his deep voice. “Let me go!” she
snapped. And when that failed to influence her captor, she called,
“Papa!”

Alastair stood by, his arms crossed over his
chest as he watched the proceedings. Hunter Maguire would not harm
his daughter, he knew, and, since he was at a loss as to what to do
with her, he remained mute and unmoving.

Hunter started to move back toward the
paddock but with that first step, Margaret dug in her heels. “I
said let me go!” she demanded and dragged backward against his
force.

Knowing he would bruise her if she insisted
on being dragged, Hunter changed his tactics, and Maggie quickly
found his arm around her waist as he hauled her against his hip. “I
want to show you something,” he said firmly and grunted when one of
Margaret’s flailing, booted feet caught him soundly on the shin.
“Stop that,” he ordered.

“Put me down,” she cried in panic as she
continued to kick and struggle, hoping for any chance to escape
him.

“I said stop that!” He was breathing heavily
from the exertion of trying to control her; the woman was twisting
and bucking like a harnessed mustang. Thinking of Passion’s Pride,
standing a few feet away and already snorting, fearing the wild
creatures coming in his direction, Hunter snapped, “You’ll get us
all killed!”

When she continued to kick and strike out
with her hands and feet, Hunter set her roughly on the ground. “Now
stop,” he ordered. Glaring into eyes that expressed her shock at
being so roughly handled, he tightened his grip on her arms for he
could see the explosion coming just as surely as the sun would set
that night.

“How dare you,” she spat as she tried to
raise her hands to scratch his face.

Hunter captured both wrists in one hand and
wrapped his arm around her waist again, drawing her against his
side where she could do less damage. “How dare I?” he muttered. “I
dare because, by God, you are going to see what you have done.”

Margaret was beginning to weaken, and she
knew, physically, she would lose in a battle against him. She was
no match for this man’s strength, but her fear of being held so
close against him made her struggle until her last ounce of
strength gave out.

When finally she sagged against him, Hunter
set her on her feet once again, and he noted that she took a deep
breath as his arms loosened their hold even while he continued to
offer support with his hands at her waist. He stared down at her,
her head bowed in defeat, wondering why she had continued to
struggle against him when he had posed no real threat. “Why did you
fight me?” he asked softly. “Do you fear me so much?”

Maggie’s head snapped up, and her beautiful
pale blue eyes narrowed with loathing. “You act like a madman,” she
snarled, “and you have the nerve to ask?”

“I was angry, yes, but surely you cannot
fear me so much that you felt you had to fight to the ends of your
strength. We were once great friends, Maggie.” He tried to study
her face but his softened tones had her looking away from him. “You
had no fear of me then. In fact, I recall you were fond of me. What
had happened since those days when we were friends, Maggie? What
has changed?”