Country Roads (41 page)

She felt panic touch her throat with cold fingers. Her body tensed, and Darkside’s ears swiveled back as his pace increased. “It’s okay, buddy, take it easy. My past just tried to grab me, but you’re going to help me outrun it. Except not literally, so slow down.”

As soon as she stopped speaking, Darkside’s ears swiveled forward and he dropped back into a smooth walk. “Phew!” Julia said, blowing a lock of hair up off her forehead.

As she came around the corner and started down the long side of the ring, she tried to read her uncle’s reaction.

His shoulders were rigidly squared, but he gave her a faint smile. Self-consciousness had her checking that her heels were down, her elbows tucked in at her sides, her knees steady against the saddle skirt. Having an audience containing one of the most important people in her life seemed unfair when this was only her second time on a horse.

“The hell with Carlos!” she said, as realization dawned. “I’m here for you, buddy.” She transferred the reins to one hand and leaned forward to stroke Darkside’s strong, gleaming neck. “We’re going to learn together. You need to know how to be a normal horse, and I need to figure out how to ride you.”

The next pass by her gallery, she flashed a brilliant smile. Her uncle gave her a little salute, his posture more relaxed. It buoyed up her spirits even further, and she turned her concentration to exploring how best to communicate with her whisper horse. She watched the beautiful, eloquent movement of his ears, let her body shift with the bunch and reach of his powerful muscles, and felt the signals traveling along the reins. All her other concerns faded into the back of her mind.

Half an hour later, Sharon slipped into the ring and waited for her. “You’re going to be mighty saddle sore if you don’t stop now.”

Sharon walked over to the mounting block beside her. “Be careful, hon. Your muscles may not hold you up at first.”

Julia swung her right leg over the back of the saddle and slid slowly down to the wooden platform. When her boots touched it, she felt her knees begin to buckle.

“You okay?” Sharon asked.

“Give me a second and I will be.” She sent all her willpower to her thighs, commanding them to keep her upright. Taking a breath, she released the saddle. A slight sag and then she was standing on her own.

Now she just had to walk down three shallow steps. As she lowered her foot to the first one, muscles she didn’t know she needed screamed at the unaccustomed use. Once she was on the level, it wasn’t so bad, except she felt the disorienting sensation of being unusually low to the ground.

She wobbled around to Darkside’s head and ran her fingers under the straps of the bridle, scratching where she thought it might itch. He reciprocated by rubbing his head up and down her chest, nearly knocking her over. “Hey, save that for when I don’t have legs made out of rubber.” She looked up at Sharon. “I understand why you do what you do.”

The other woman nodded. “Wait till you take him over a jump.”

Julia laughed in disbelief.

“It won’t be long before you’ll be begging me to do it. But we won’t advertise that to your uncle.” Sharon jerked her head in his direction.

Forcing her legs to move in a semblance of normalcy, Julia walked over to where he stood. “What did you think?”

“A beginner does not belong on that horse, but you handled him well.” He nodded in approval.

From her uncle, it was high praise.

Sharon led Darkside up to them. Carlos reached out to run a hand over the horse’s shoulder. “He’s a magnificent creature. Do you breed him?”

“I haven’t but I may now,” Sharon said. “I worried about his temperament before he met Julia.”

Julia grinned. “I have a soothing effect on difficult personalities.”

Sharon gave a little choke of laughter. “I’m going to take him back to his stall for a good rubdown.”

“Wait,” Julia said, wrapping her arms around Darkside’s neck so she could speak into his ear. “Thanks for a good ride, buddy. I owe you a carrot.” She gave him a pat and turned to her uncle. “Shall we go back to the inn so I can get cleaned up?”

“I will drop you off there, and then I must return home.”

“You’re leaving?” Carlos kept knocking her off balance.

“I believe that is your preference.”

“I—” She swallowed. “As long as you come back Friday. I want you at my exhibition.”

“Wild horses would not keep me from it.” He gave her an impish smile. “You planned today well,
mi querida
. My eyes are opened.”

Another soak in a hot bath eased the new aches and pains created by her ride. As soon as she was dry, she texted Paul: “Carlos vanquished and in retreat back to NC. What time will you be free?”

The answer came back almost instantly: “Two hours. Where will you be?”

“The studio.” She wasn’t lying when she said she needed to make some progress on her auction donation. Julia wiggled into snug jeans and a T-shirt before brushing her damp hair into neat waves and leaving it down over her shoulders to dry. Grabbing her cell phone, she skipped down the steps of the inn.

As she strolled along the streets of Sanctuary, she soaked up the unusual combination of paint colors on one Victorian and a quirky shingle pattern on another, the warm patina of antique handmade brick, and the pattern of light and shade under a tulip poplar. The town seemed to glow with the same satisfaction she felt.

Her relationship with Carlos was on a whole new footing. If her uncle was still hurt by the change, he had chosen not to reveal it, and she was grateful to him for that. For all her sense of betrayal, she loved him deeply and hated to cause him pain. There would probably be occasional skirmishes going forward, but she believed her uncle respected her right to make her own decisions now.

Her next hurdle—and it was a much higher and wider one—was Paul’s conviction that Sanctuary would somehow stifle her career. He couldn’t make her leave, of course, but she knew what a towering wall of easy, inconsequential cordiality he could raise between them. If he decided their relationship should end for her own good, he would slip right out of her fingers.

Her calm evaporated, and she banged open the screen door of her studio. “Stubborn, do-gooding man!” she huffed as she thrust her arms into the sleeves of her paint-splattered overshirt.

Stalking over to the easel where Darkside’s portrait sat, she felt a stab of panic. The auction was two days away and the painting had a long way to go before it was finished. Seizing her paints, she began squeezing colors onto the palette and shoved all thoughts of anything but a huge, troubled black horse out of her mind.

“Did you say Carlos Castillo wants to see me?” Paul said into the telephone receiver, not sure he’d heard Verna correctly.

“That’s right,” she confirmed. “No appointment, but…”

“I’ll be right there.” Paul stood and went to the coatrack to retrieve his suit jacket. He shrugged into it and straightened his tie before he pulled open the door. Striding into the reception area, he spotted a trim older man of medium height, his dark
hair salted with silver strands. “Mr. Castillo? Paul Taggart. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He offered his hand.

Carlos took it in a firm grip and gave him a courteous smile. “I appreciate your willingness to meet with me when I have no appointment.”

“Of course, sir,” Paul said, escorting him into his office and closing the door. “I’m a friend of your niece’s.”

“Ah, I thought you were her lawyer,” the older man said, as he settled into the chair Paul indicated. Paul took the chair beside him, turning it to make the arrangement friendly.

“Contrary to popular belief, lawyers are capable of friendship,” Paul said, giving Carlos a rueful smile as an invitation to share the joke. He was treading carefully since he had no idea what Julia had told her uncle about him or why her uncle had chosen to come here.

Carlos did not return the smile, and Paul could see why Julia found him intimidating. The man wore his well-tailored suit with all the authority of a Fortune 500 CEO.

“Julia tells me you have drawn up the agreement for her new agent, Claire Arbuckle,” Carlos said. “I wish to see it.”

“Well, sir, I’d like to help you out, but there’s the matter of attorney-client confidentiality.” He kept his tone light to rob his words of any offense. He also hid his surprise, since no such agreement yet existed.

“But I am her uncle and stand in loco parentis to her.” The other man’s voice was even but held an undercurrent of command.

Paul nodded. “Julia has spoken of you with great respect and affection. However, she is my client, so I cannot breach my professional responsibility to her.” He knew he was stretching it to call Julia a client since they’d never had any formal arrangement, but it made a convenient excuse.

“Have you ever drawn up such an agreement before?”

“Yes, sir. There are several local artists whom Mrs. Arbuckle represents. I handled all of their agreements.” Paul tamped down his irritation at having his competence questioned.

Carlos leaned forward, his hands on the arms of the chair. “None of them are of the same caliber as my niece. She is an artist with an international reputation, which will only continue to grow. Her situation requires a sophisticated, airtight contract.”

As his temper began to simmer, Paul reminded himself that Julia had just fired her uncle, so he was probably feeling cranky and hurt. This was his way of compensating. His voice was calm as he said, “Believe me, I have Julia’s best interests very much at heart. I can draw on several resources at large law firms known for representing clients in the arts, if necessary.” He decided not to let Carlos get away with his veiled insults entirely. “May I add that I have known Mrs. Arbuckle for many years and can vouch she is a person of the highest integrity.”

“In your profession, I am sure you have noticed integrity can be overwhelmed by large amounts of money.”

“Sometimes even by small amounts,” Paul said, working hard to keep the edge out of his voice. However, he’d had about enough. “Mr. Castillo, I understand your concern, but this is between Julia and myself.”

Carlos sat back in his chair and simply looked at Paul, his expression giving nothing away. “Are you the reason Julia has refused to come home?”

Paul hadn’t seen that coming. “Why would you ask me that?”

The other man’s gaze never wavered. “A little conversation here, a little conversation there, and the pieces begin to fit together.”

Paul just barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes in exasperation at the impossibility of privacy in a small town. “I haven’t asked Julia to stay here.”

Carlos snorted, a surprisingly inelegant sound from such a controlled man. “My niece has developed a mind of her own recently. I don’t think it would matter whether you asked her or not.”

Paul was surprised into giving him a nod of agreement. “Very true, sir.”

“I wanted to meet you for myself,” Carlos said, standing up.

Paul leaped to his feet as well. “And I you.”

For a long moment, they measured each other. Carlos nodded. “Now we have met.” He held his hand out to Paul. “Julia is the daughter of my heart. Remember that.”

When Paul shook the older man’s hand, Carlos exerted just enough pressure to make sure Paul understood his warning.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Paul said, his tone casual, his smile nonchalant. He respected the man’s concern for Julia, but he was damned if he was going to kowtow to it.

“Will you be at my niece’s exhibition on Friday?” Carlos asked as they walked to the door.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“Good. She may need our help,” Carlos said, turning to go.