Harnessed Passions (6 page)

"Julia Dennese!" Louise gasped.

"I'm sorry mother," she apologized with a
heavy sigh. She felt like a mad dog at the throat of its helpless
victim. "I didn't mean that, it's just that I didn't expect any of
this. I thought I was coming home for a visit; spend a few days
riding the horses, visit some old friends and back to Boston. What
am I supposed to tell Aunt Lena and Uncle Rupert? We had plans of
traveling to New York this summer once the new baby arrived. What
am I supposed to do now? I promised I'd be there when the baby was
born; Lena trusts me, she relies on me. Damned it, mother, I like
things the way they are...were."

"Julia, have you ever thought that maybe,
just maybe coming home for a few months would help you out of the
rut your life is in?"

"What rut, mother? I like my life the way it
is."

"What you like is that there's no challenge
or risk involved. You need a change, maybe take a long leisurely
vacation with a handsome, stimulating man. Would that be so bad?
Good Lord girl; your life's surrounded by taking care of another
woman's children instead of your own. How exciting can that
be?"

"I'm tired mother," Julia insisted with a
clenched jaw as she stood suddenly from her chair. She was hoping
to avoid this argument with her mother; it seemed to be the main
topic of conversation whenever she came home or received a
letter.

"I'm going up to bed and I swear if there’s
a merciful God in heaven, he’ll let me stay there until hell
freezes over." Louise opened her mouth to speak, but closed it
again when her daughter turned a narrow stare on her. "I don't want
to talk about it anymore. I like my life as is and I'm going to
keep it that way come hell or high water." With that said she
turned on her heel and left the room and her mother to watch her
departure in silence.

Like every room downstairs, Julia's room was
exactly as it had been when she last saw it five years ago. Pink
curtains still hung across the doors that opened onto the small
veranda. Her matching bedspread now lay across the hope chest at
the foot of her small brass and the crisp white sheets had been
pulled down over a pale pink and white patchwork quilt. The pink
rug appeared new and the smell of paint still lingered in the room
to assure her the white walls had been repainted, but besides that
everything was just as it always had been…pink and outdated.

Julia sat down at the vanity, looking around
the room through the reflection in the mirror. God, how she hated
the color pink, she thought. She remembered arguing with her mother
for weeks over decorating her room. She wanted bright green, maybe
even blue, but eventually her mother won out and she was stuck with
pink. She moaned as she looked through the open door to her private
wash closet; even it was pink. It was enough to make a grown person
cringe with nausea.

Sighing deeply, she reluctantly surrendered
to the fatigue that had been threatening her stamina all afternoon
and climb into her bed, slipping between the clean, cool sheets.
All she wanted was a long, undisturbed forty-eight hours sleep. But
since this wasn't possible, she'd settle for a little peace and
quiet.

Victor's condition continued to deteriorate
at an alarming rate, as the days that followed Julia's return was
filled with compact lessons on horses and feed. He kept his promise
to her however, devoting his mornings to teaching her everything he
could in the amount of time he was given. They went over basic
horse breeding - or horse sense, as her father liked to call it;
customer lists, invoices and grooming techniques, feed storage and
even shoeing.

Everything was brief, yet condensed enough
for her to get the jest of it, leaving Julia to carry around a
ledger in order to keep track of all her father crammed into her
brain. She was amazed that she never learned any of this when she
was growing up. She spent her entire life on this ranch and had no
idea the depth of detail that went into each and every aspect of a
horse’s life.

It was on one such day, after Victor became
too weary to continue with her studies and retired to his room;
that Julia decided to take her pent up emotions out on the familiar
fields where she used to ride as a child. She ordered Patty, the
Irish immigrant who worked in the stables, to saddle her chestnut
mare, Biscuit. She rode out to the open pasture, urging Biscuit
into a hard run. The wind whipped her long dark hair loose from its
silk restraint, allowing it to fly wildly behind her. The sun shone
on her creamy complexion, burning her cheeks a delicate pink. She
laughed aloud, riding as though the world no longer existed,
feeling the freedom she could only experience on Biscuit's
back.

The smell of hay and manure filled her lungs
and the sound of birds flying overhead did much in lifting her
mood. She felt alive and free for the first time in weeks; no
thoughts of death, no worries of trespassers and no confusion of
whether to leave or stay. She was alone and happy and continued to
ride until late into the afternoon.

When she returned to the stables shortly
before supper, she felt relaxed and ready for her next lessons with
her father. She led Biscuit into her stall and gave her a generous
bag of oats, patting her neck as she began to eat. Unable to locate
the mare's brush, she bent and gathered a handful of clean straw to
rub the horse’s coat down with. Her hand had just clutched a
fistful of the sweet smelling hay, when she developed an odd
awareness of being watched. She glanced behind her and noticed the
man staring at her with a strange smile on his tanned face. Julia
straightened to her full height of five feet, five inches and tried
to look dignified - especially considering she had only moments
before offered the man full sight of her rear end.

He was very handsome, more than six feet
tall with straight blondish-brown hair held back in a leather
restraint at the nape of his neck; his skin was deeply tanned,
which told her he spent a great deal of time outdoors. If it
weren’t for his expensive dark blue suit and waistcoat and crisp
white shirt, she’d have assumed he was one of the stable hands. His
hands were folded across a rather large chest and he leaned
leisurely against the post of the stall, watching the woman’s every
move.

Julia felt a heat radiate from the man's
eyes, even before she saw the deep, rich turquoise of their shining
splendor. So odd the combination, it took her by surprise and she
found herself breathless as she tried to pull herself under
control.

As intent as she had been with her
inspection, the experience was shared equally by Daniel's own
examination. The woman in front of him couldn't possibly be Julia
Turner; she was nothing of what he had mentally envisioned. She was
far too young to assume the position her father was placing her in
and far too delicate. He guessed the woman to be no more than
twenty-two or twenty-three, although he'd never actually asked
Julia Turner's age before. She was very beautiful and much slimmer
than he had pictured; as well as being very well endowed. She had
the sort of body, every man secretly dreamed of possessing.

Her long dark hair hung loose across her
shoulders and down her back, to settle at her waist in a disarray
of tangled ringlets. She wore a red velvet riding habit and her
hands were void of the gloves she had moments before tucked inside
the waistband of her breeches. She displayed the perfect picture of
the pampered princess he had heard about, rather than a horse
breeder's daughter.

Daniel walked toward her with a smooth, calm
step so intentional it sent chills of anticipation running along
Julia's spine. She noticed his finely chiseled features as he
approached. His sculptured straight nose and firm jaw line, his
deep-set turquoise eyes and his full kissable lips were a silent
invitation, beckoning to her. She shook herself hard; she didn't
even know who this man was and already she was beginning to imagine
what it would be like to kiss him. For all she knew, he could have
been 'Billy the Kid', himself. In a three-piece suit, her
subconscious asked?

"You have an excellent way with horses,"
Daniel stated seductively; his tone deep and rich like warm
chocolate pouring over ice cream, soothing and stimulating her at
the same time. His accent was slightly less noticeable as it had
been when he first arrived in America, though it was there and
unmistakable.

"I have little trouble with anything other
than the saddle," Julia replied, surprised at how calm and even her
voice sounded. "I've been told my form is top rank though."

"I couldn't agree more. I noticed your form
immediately," he said with a lopsided grin, and then added softly,
"You're not a bad equestrian, either." Julia's delicate face turned
a deep maroon as she stepped past him, brushing his arm slightly on
her way. She felt a bolt of electricity shoot through her and found
herself fighting the urge to touch him again - just to see if the
shock had been real, she assured herself.

"If your wit were as sharp as your tongue,
you'd be in possession of a very deadly weapon," she snarled,
forcing herself to sound irritated as she turned her attention back
to her horse.

"I apologize; Miss…” he paused, hoping she
was anyone besides Julia Turner.

“
Turner,” she assured him
with an arrogant tilt to her chin. “My father owns this land.” He
wasn’t sure if he was shocked or aroused; he would be spending a
great deal of time with this young woman in the next few weeks and
was suddenly thrilled at the prospect.

“
Well, Miss Turner, as I
was saying, I'm quite certain I'm not the first man to admire your
beauty."

"You seem to have me at a disadvantage sir,"
she informed him as she tossed the hay to the floor of the stall,
desperately trying to ignore his unnerving comments. "You know who
I am, but you've yet to introduce yourself."

"My apologies again, Little Princess," he
bowed slightly; the ponytail he had tied behind him fell to the
front of his neck. "I am Daniel Browning, your father's legal
advisor."

"Ah yes, my father told me you'd be stopping
by today. It must have slipped my mind; but than most trivial
things usually do." She inspected him from head to toe as though it
were the first time she had done so. "You're much younger than I
expected, Mr. Browning. Aren't lawyers supposed to be sixty and
bald?"

"You're not quite what I expected, either,"
he replied in turn, inspecting her with a wicked gleam in his
turquoise eyes. He wasn’t about to let her off with that kind of
remark and not have a little fun in return. "I thought all nannies
were old and scrawny with warts on their chins. I'm not sure of the
age, but I am sure you're far from being scrawny and I see no warts
a ’tall."

"You’re thinking of witches and I'm
twenty-two, not that it’s any concern of your business. But you are
quite right, I'm not scrawny, nor am I a nanny. I've merely been
helping my aunt and uncle by taking care of their children. Or at
least I used to," she added, quickly evaluating her present
circumstances.

"My apologies yet again," he said with
another half bow. Julia was certain he was mocking her, yet he was
so handsome she couldn't seem to find the right words to put him
down as she walked around him.

The blue eyes bore warm sensual holes into
her, forcing her to quicken her retreat out of the stables. She
stopped the young stable boy near the entrance of the barn and
instructed him to finish Biscuit then headed toward the house,
Daniel in her stead.

"Perhaps you could teach me how to ride,
sometime? I'm not very good," he lied, feeling a sudden tightening
in his breeches as he easily caught up to her, walking beside her
on the path. "In exchange for the lessons, I'll be happy to teach
you a thing or two."

"There is nothing you can teach me Mr.
Browning, which I care to learn. Besides, I thought you were here
at my father's request? Shouldn't you be advising him or
something?"

"Your father is resting, so your mother
suggested I come out here and introduce myself. We will be working
very closely together, for a while at least, and the name is
Daniel. Mr. Browning sounds too formal for my taste."

"Well Mr. Browning, I don't need any advice
and I don't need you to teach me anything. I have no intention on
staying around here beyond October. By then my younger brother will
be able to assume the duties of the stables and I will return to
Boston, hopefully in time to salvage the remains of my social
life." She walked through the back door and into the spacious
kitchen beyond with Daniel nipping at her heels like a faithful
puppy.

"I wouldn't be so quick in assuming Jeremy's
going to want your father's business. Victor has after all, asked
you to step in for him. Your brother may feel left out." Julia
stopped and rounded on him, hands on her hips as she stared into
the blue eyes that actually seemed to be laughing at her.

"It's obvious you've never met Jeremy.
Otherwise, you would know he's not the sort of person to hold
grudges, and I would thank you to stay out of my family affairs,
Mr. Browning. Your position here is professional, not
personal."

"Quick tempered," he
commented, unaffected by her sudden mood swing from indifference to
complete irritation all within the span of ten seconds. "Your
father warned me, you had a hot head.
Temper quick as a whip and bite as deadly as a
scorpion
, I believe he said. Now I see what
he meant. Your father contributes your mother's Italian blood as
the culprit, yet your mother insists your father's Irish heritage
is to blame. What do you think causes it?"

"How about nosy lawyers?"
she snapped softly, smiling so sweet it was almost nauseating.
"Tell me Mr. Browning, what nationality flows through your veins? I
detect the accent, though I am not very versed on such a
disability."
That should put him in his
place
, she thought with a smug
smile.