The Rancher's Runaway Princess - Sample

Chapter Three

Brody woke to moonlight tracing a pale line along his bedroom wall. He rolled to his back, rubbing a hand over the stubble on his face.

He'd been dreaming of her. Dreaming of her corkscrew hair falling over his hands the moment before he pressed his mouth to her defiant lips.

He raised up on to his elbows, shaking his head a bit in the dark. He wasn't a man prone to dreams, especially about women he'd just met. But something about Lucy pushed his buttons. She was stubborn, and abrasive, and damned smart if he were any judge at all. Carrying a chip on her shoulder the size of Marazur. Yet there was something behind it. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. It was in the way she'd looked at him just before dinner tonight; the way their eyes had met after Mrs. P's saying of grace. She could be as icy as she pleased but there was something about her that called to him.

And he'd ignore that call. Her life was vastly different from his and there was no way he'd forget it. Once burned...well, that had been enough for him.

It was crazy, thinking about her this way. It was ridiculous to even admit to himself that he felt a physical attraction to her. It'd come plain out of nowhere, and had hit him square in the gut. He'd disputed it to himself earlier but there was no arguing with the dream.

He rose from the bed and moved to the open window. Cool, crisp air fluttered over his skin. The hot, dry breezes of July nights were gone; in their place were the cold, clear nights of August, chill and full of stars. The air rushed in through the screen and he let it clear his head.

Then he saw the light.

The windows at the front end of the barn gleamed in the inky blackness. And he was positive he'd turned everything out before going to bed.

He pulled on his jeans in brisk, quiet movements. He carried his boots in his hands and crept down the stairs, checking his watch as he went. The luminescent hands gleamed at the two and the four – two twenty. When he got to the door he saw Mrs. P's jacket hung precisely beside his denim one. He snagged the latter, shoved his arms in the sleeves and slid out the door into the brisk night air.

He crept towards the barn door, which was opened a few feet, letting out a rhombus-shaped slice of yellow light. A quiet shuffle sounded; someone was definitely inside. He turned back towards the house for a moment, suspicion forming in his mind. Lucy's room was dark, no light from the bedroom windows at the west end of the house. As another shuffle sounded, he turned again to the barn.

She'd arrived today and now someone was in his barns in the middle of the night. Coincidence? He didn't think so.

What was she up to? What could she possibly be looking for? Brody exhaled slowly. All important records were locked in the office up at the house. And she likely knew that. Which meant....

Which meant she was sneaking around his horses. Tampering, sabotage – whatever she was doing he was going to put a stop to it right now.

He squeezed through the opening between door and wall and slowly made his way in the shadows towards the office. A light was on inside, but another shuffle told him that whoever had turned it on was no longer inside. Instead the sound came from a stall on the right. He held his breath...there was the sound again, followed by the hollow echo of shifting hooves. Pretty's box. The horse she'd met earlier. His heart gave a heavy thump.

Brody squared his shoulders, took four silent, long strides that took him to the stall door.

It too, was open.