very ladylike appearance when he darkened her doorstep on Christmas Day. Perhaps he didn’t care what she looked like.
Or perhaps he’d made his opinion clear enough a decade ago, and his feelings on the matter had not changed.
“Go and put on your riding clothes,” she said. “You’re embarrassing me.”
But it was his sculpted cheekbones that flushed scarlet. “I didn’t bring any.”
“Well, you’re too big to borrow mine.”
And too big to fit into her father’s.
She frowned.
Why was a ton fop as burly as a farmhand? What witchcraft had his tailor performed to make Weston’s tall, hulking figure resemble that of a dandy?
A dandy wearing… gray. Weston’s attire was well-cut, but not meant to stand out. He had not come here intending to win her. He’d expected her to be handed over to him like a lump of coal. Olive’s opinions did not matter to him in the least.
“Go inside,” she said. “I’ll be there in a moment.”
He crossed well-tailored, muscular arms over a well-tailored, burly chest. “You left me standing here yesterday and never returned. Fool me once...”
Yes. She snorted humorlessly. He’d taught her that lesson himself.
“If you’re going to be my shadow,” she said, “climb over that fence and follow.”
He did not. Of course he did not. There was snow on his side of the fence and mud on hers. The world might end if a speck of dirt were to mar his glossy Hessians.
Olive smirked.
His Town sensibilities played to her favor. Papa couldn’t claim she had not tried, if it was Weston who refused to come near. She was winning.
Eight days from now, victory—and the Harper farm—would be hers.
“Can we talk about this?” he asked.
That wretched gravelly voice slid like a caress down her spine.
She stomped over to him, taking care to spray up as much mud as possible.
“What might you say that I don’t already know?” she asked. “You’re not here to court me. You’re just using me to get something that you want.”
He blinked. “True.”
She stared at him, momentarily struck speechless. They’d both known it was true, but she hadn’t expected him to admit it.
“We’re in this mock courtship because of our fathers,” he pointed out. “I never claimed it was fair. I know it isn’t. I’m sorry.”
Well, that just... disarmed every argument she’d been planning to make.
“Are you always this honest?” she muttered.
“Not always,” he replied.
Hmm. An unsettlingly honest reply for a liar.
“Do you want to see the stables?” she forced herself to ask.
A line creased his brow. “Are there horses in it?”
“Of course there are horses in it. It’s a stable. If you’re afraid of getting your dancing slippers dirty—”
He was over the fence before she could finish her taunt.
Over the fence and standing right in front of her.
The toes of his boots flanked hers. Hip to hip. Chest to chest. Her eyes exactly at the height of his lips. Close enough to feel the heat from his body overwhelm her like a gust of hot wind on a summer’s day.
“Oh,” she whispered, her voice little more than a puff of air.
They were at stalemate.
She could not scamper away, lest he realize how much he affected her.
Nor could she be expected to spend the morning standing here at kissing distance, pretending her heart wasn’t beating out of her chest.
“As you wish,” he said, that warm dark voice gliding over her skin. “Show me the stables.”
Yes.
He’d given her the perfect excuse to break the moment, to turn away.
Now that he had, however, she remembered what had happened the last time they were alone together in a stable. It was not an experience she hoped to relive. Come to think of it, it would be best if they avoided mention of horses altogether.
But he was right about something else, too, damn him. She didn’t have anything else in her life besides horses. Olive was the farm, and the farm was her. She couldn’t allow him close to Duke. If she was meant to stall him somehow until the ten days ran out, it would have to happen in moments like these.
“You jumped that fence very… smoothly.”
What? What kind of salvo was that?
She spun around before anything worse could happen, and strode swiftly toward the stables. This was her land. She was safe here. He was the outsider that would be leaving soon, never to return. Duke would never accept him. Neither would she.
Eight more days. Nothing more.
He hung back as she walked through the open stable doors.
She rolled her eyes. “I won’t make you vault over the