White Christmas: Woman Hater / The Humbug Man. Diana Palmer

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      Minutes later, guided by patient, expert lean hands, hind fetlocks appeared suddenly, followed rapidly by the rest of the newborn animal. Winthrop laughed softly, triumphantly, as the tiny new life slid into the hay and he cleared its nostrils.

      “A colt,” he announced.

      Nicole smiled at him over the mare, amazed to find genuine warmth in his dark eyes. “And a very healthy one, too,” she agreed. Her eyes searched his softly, and then she felt herself beginning to tremble at the intensity of his level gaze. She drew her gaze away and stroked the mare again before she got slowly to her feet so that the new mother could lick her colt and nuzzle it.

      “A thoroughbred, isn’t he?” she replied absently, her eyes on the slick colt being lovingly washed by his mother. “The stallion has a superior conformation. So does the mare. He might be a champion.”

      “The stallion is by Calhammond, out of Dame Savoy,” he said, frowning as he moved away to wash his hands and arms in a bucket of water with a bar of soap, drying them on a towel that hung over it. “How did you know?”

      “Kentucky is racehorse country,” she laughed, sidestepping the question. She didn’t want to tell him how much she knew about thoroughbreds, although she’d certainly given herself away just now, and she’d have to soft-pedal over it. “I cut my teeth on thoroughbreds. I used to beg for work around them, and one of the trainers took pity on me. He taught me a lot about them. You see, one of the biggest racing farms in Lexington was near where I lived—Rockhampton Farms.” Actually Rockhampton was her grandfather’s name; her mother’s people had owned the stables there for three generations. But it wouldn’t do to admit that to Winthrop, because he’d connect it with Dominic White, who was her father and the current owner. He might even know Dominic, because he entertained sportsmen, and her father was one of the best.

      “I’ve heard of it,” Winthrop told her after a minute. He turned, staring hard at her with dark, curious eyes as he rolled down the sleeves of his brown Western shirt and buttoned the cuffs with lazy elegance. White. Her name was White. Wasn’t that the name of that jet-setting sportsman from Kentucky who was coming with the Eastern hunting party? Yes, by God it was, and Dominic White owned Rockhampton Farms. He lifted his head. “The owner of Rockhampton is a White,” he said in a direct attack, watching closely for reaction. “Any kin of yours?”

      She held on to her wits with a steely hand. She even smiled. “White is a pretty common name, I’m afraid,” she said. “Do I look like an heiress?”

      “You don’t dress like one,” he commented, with narrowed eyes. “And I guess you wouldn’t be working for Gerald if you had that kind of money,” he said finally, relaxing a little. He didn’t want her, but it was a relief all the same to know that she wasn’t some bored little rich girl looking for a good time. He couldn’t have borne going through that again. “I’ve been to Kentucky, but I’ve never been on the White place. My stallion and mare came from the O’Hara place.”

      “Yes, Meadowbrook Farms,” she murmured. She could have fainted with relief. She didn’t want him to know about her background. Of course, there was always the danger that he might someday find out that she was one of those Whites, but with any luck she’d be back in Chicago before he did, and it wouldn’t matter anymore. Right now, the important thing was to get her boss well and not upset him with any confrontations between herself and Winthrop.

      Winthrop had every reason to hate rich society girls, and he might be tempted to make her life hell if he knew the truth. And probably it would be worse because she hadn’t told him about it in the beginning. Her character would be even blacker in his eyes for the subterfuge. For one wild instant, she considered telling him. But she knew she couldn’t. He disliked her enough already. And it was suddenly important, somehow, to keep him from finding new reasons to dislike her. It did occur to her that someday he might hate her for not being truthful with him. But she’d discovered a tender streak in his turbulent nature while he was working with the mare, and she wanted to learn more about that shadowy side of him. That might not be possible if he knew the truth about her.

      “I couldn’t have managed that alone,” he said quietly, watching her. “I’m obliged for the help.”

      “I like horses,” she said simply. “And he’s a grand colt.”

      “His father has been a consistent winner, but he was hurt in a race last year. I bought him to stand at stud rather than see him put down. I had a lot of money that was lying spare, so I developed an interest in racehorses. I’ve spent a good deal of time at racetracks in the past year.”

      Another chink in the armor, she thought, thinking about his compassion for the stallion as she looked up at him.

      He saw that speculative gleam and it irritated him. She wasn’t working out the way he’d expected. She had too many interesting qualities, and he didn’t like the feelings she aroused in him. He’d buried his emotions, and she was digging down to them with irritating ease.

      “You don’t like me, do you?” she asked bluntly. “Why? Is it because I’m plain, or because I’m only a secretary …”

      “You aren’t plain,” he said unexpectedly, his dark eyes tracing the soft oval of her face. Big green eyes. Pretty mouth. High cheekbones. Skin like satin, creamy and young. She was young. He sighed wistfully. “And I’m no snob. I just don’t want women around.”

      “That’s straightforward,” she said softly. “And I hope it won’t offend you if I speak as bluntly. I know a little about what happened to you and why. I’m very sorry. But hating me and making my life miserable for the next few weeks isn’t going to erase your scars. It will only create new ones for both of us. So can’t we be sporting enemies?” she asked, her green eyes twinkling. “And I’ll promise not to seduce you in the hay.”

      His eyebrows shot straight up. Unexpected wasn’t the word for this little firecracker. He’d have to think up a new one.

      “What do you know about seduction, Red Riding Hood?” he asked with blithe humor, and she got a tiny glimpse of the man he’d been before the accident.

      “Not much, actually,” she said pleasantly, “but that’s probably in your favor, because it will save you a lot of embarrassing moments. Just imagine if I were experienced and sophisticated and out to sink my claws into you!”

      Her earnestly teasing expression made him feel as if he were sipping potent wine. He had a hard time drawing his eyes away from her soft mouth and back up to her laughing eyes. Incredibly long lashes, on those eyes. Sexy. Like the rest of her. She was tall, but she wasn’t overly thin. He liked the way she looked in tailored slacks and that white sweater. Both were thick with horsehair about now, and she’d smell of horse….

      “She’ll want some water now,” she reminded him, unnerved by that slow, bold scrutiny and hoping that it didn’t show.

      It did. His chin lifted just a little, in a purely male way, and his chiseled mouth twitched. “Nervous of me?”

      “If all the gossip I’ve heard about you is true, I have good reason to be, and that isn’t conceit on my part,” she added proudly. “Playboys don’t usually mind who they charm, because it’s all a game to them.”

      The light in his eyes went out, like a cavern succumbing to darkness. “I don’t play games with virgins, honey,” he said unexpectedly, catching her chin with a lean, steely hand. “And you’d better remember it. I’ve forgotten СКАЧАТЬ