Rebel Waltz by Kay Hooper

those two, she on her El Cid and her grandfather on a deep-chested, long-legged white gelding, who showed their guests the way over brush, rail, and water. It might have been an amiable competition between them or merely the hard- riding nature of their heritage; whatever the reason, they were nearly always neck-and-neck in the lead.
    The false trail led them for miles over the countryside, across streams and meadows andthrough forests, and it wasn't until they had experienced the “kill” and watched the hounds leashed at the base of a large tree where a stuffed fox glared mockingly down on them that Rory was able to come up alongside Banner. All the riders had turned their mounts back toward Jasmine Hall at a leisurely pace.
    “That,” Rory said definitely, “was something to remember.”
    Cheeks flushed and green eyes merry, Banner nodded agreement. “There are hunt clubs around here that run hunts from time to time, but we're the only ones who're costumed. It adds something, doesn't it?”
    “It does that.” He looked over their horses, noting the damp sheen of sweat but also aware that neither animal—clearly well conditioned— was overly tired. “Do we have time to ride over more of the property, or should you return with your guests?”
    Abruptly, the light left her eyes. “No, I don't have to get back right away. I can show you the southern section, at least. This way.” She turnedEl Cid away from the rest of the horses, heading in a direction the hunt hadn't covered.
    Rory was silently cursing himself. He brought Shadow alongside her horse again. “Banner, I'm sorry.”
    She sent him a quick glance. “It's all right; Jake can take care of the guests.”
    “That isn't what I meant, and you know it.” He sighed. “You were so happy about the hunt, and I had to spoil your pleasure by reminding you that I came here to look the place over. I'm sorry.”
    The horses were walking, and Banner had little need to pay close attention to her riding; still, she didn't look at him. “Well, it's the reason you're here. And… Jake's serious this time.” She smiled faintly. “It probably isn't good salesmanship—by Jake's way of thinking—to tell you that, but it's true.”
    He was silent for a moment. “D'you have to sell?” It was, perhaps, spiking his own guns, since he wanted the place, but Rory was troubled by her obvious grief at losing Jasmine Hall.
    Banner shrugged. “We can't afford to keep it in prime condition; you know what restoration and maintenance cost these days. It's either turn the place over to a historical society or sell.”
    “And it'll kill you to have to leave here.” It wasn't a question, and the rough tone told her more, perhaps, than he'd intended.
    She stared straight ahead between Cid's alert ears. “I'll survive.”
    There was silence for a while, broken only by morning sounds and the muffled thuds of hooves. Rory saw the land they rode through, but he didn't really look at it. He was peculiarly conscious of the costume he wore and of the costumed lady by his side, bemusedly aware that while his instincts might have sparked action because they were alone, the manners curiously imposed by the costumes forbade it.
    He would, he realized, be glad when the costumes were packed away for—what? Next year? Or would there be a next year for this hunt?
    Shunting the thought aside, he asked abruptly, “Is Jake your only family?”
    “He is now. My father was killed in a car accident when I was just a child. Mother died ten years ago. There are aunts, uncles, and cousins scattered around the country, but it's just been Jake and me for years.”
    “What are your future plans if the Hall is sold?” He hated to keep reminding her, but he was more than a little interested in anything that had to do with Banner's future.
    She sent him a sudden look that was surprise overlaid by sadness. “It's funny, but I haven't thought that far ahead. I doubt that Jake has either. We were both born