Ten Days with a Duke (12 Dukes of Christmas #11) - Erica Ridley Page 0,9

at him, then took off over the snow-covered field, a brown blur flying over hills of white until she disappeared behind a thicket of trees.

Eli grinned to himself. Ten days suddenly didn’t seem long enough. Perhaps he would enjoy parts of this.

While he waited for her to return, he idly tossed bits of carrot at the lone remaining horse from a safe distance.

Rudolph gazed at him suspiciously, nudging each cube of orange carrot with his nose without taking a single bite.

Caution was good. Caution was wise.

Miss Harper was a goddess and gods could be tricky.

Eli did not wish to undo the kiss he’d shared with her all those years ago. He wanted to redo it.

He hated that he could not rewrite past history, no matter how hard he tried. Eli could beg for forgiveness all he pleased, but they both knew he didn’t deserve it.

It was a miracle she was even out here, spending her valuable time... with...

Eli burst out laughing and chucked the last bits of carrot at Rudolph. “She’s not coming back, is she?”

Rudolph shook his head with a disgruntled snort and ambled away.

Round one, to Miss Harper.

Chapter 4

The Second Day

Dawn streamed from the horizon the following morning as Olive paid her usual early morning call upon her horses.

She took a loud bite from the tip of a carrot before feeding the rest to Duke.

Sharing the carrots was their secret custom. She couldn’t allow anyone to catch her at it, though today there was no need to worry on that score. The servants wouldn’t return until the first of January, and as for Elijah Weston... No ton gentleman worth his salt would dare rise before noon.

Olive had the horses to herself, just as she liked it.

There were many more to attend to than the four bloods she’d introduced Weston to, of course. In addition to mares, the Harper farm boasted dozens of yearlings, many of which had caught the interest of wealthy tourists, and would travel to new homes after the Yuletide.

Olive loved every one of her horses. She adored training them, riding them, and caring for them in ways both large and small, from tending to daily maintenance to assisting with difficult births.

This farm was her life.

She would not allow a ghost from her past to ruin it.

“Miss Harper?” called a low, gravelly voice. “Are you in the stables?”

Of course she was in the stables. The question was what the devil Weston was doing out and about at dawn. This was her home.

She belonged here.

He did not.

Olive rolled her shoulders back and took a calming breath. It would not do to appear overset. To admit she was still skittish from his last rejection, and probably always would be. Her weakness would give him power.

Only when her mental shields were firmly in place did she walk out of the stable doors with her head held high.

She came to an immediate halt.

Weston had that effect on her; she couldn’t help it. Though to be fair, anyone would look twice at the apparition lurking just on the other side of the fence.

He was a ton fribble ripped from the pages of Le Beau Monde and placed here among fields of snow like a paper doll come to life.

Everything about his person was completely unsuited to working on a horse farm in winter. The too-light coat, the shiny tasseled Hessians, the... Did he think to tame Duke whilst wearing a top hat?

The effect should have invited her ridicule, not her ardor, but here she was. Standing in air cold enough to see one’s breath, with every inch of her flesh oddly heated, as if the sight of him caused a blush to travel her whole body.

He was not a farmhand, but rather a Trojan horse. His pretty exterior masked danger and deception. She knew his treachery better than anyone.

But it didn’t stop her breath from catching all the same.

She shoved her gloved thumbs into the waistband of her breeches and strutted forward. It was not the action of a proper lady. Olive was no one’s idea of the ideal wife. She’d been told so her entire life. It was best to disabuse him of any notion of her melding seamlessly with the haut ton.

“Did you bring any carrots?” he called out. “I have some, in case you need them.”

Well, that took some of the wind out of her sails.

Weston had made no comments about her manly appearance today or yesterday. Come to think of it, nor had he commented upon her