signaled El Cid to move forward, and as the horse responded obediently, she tried to answer him. “I don't know. But I'm not a child, Rory; I know someone has to buy the Hall. I'd— rather it was you. And… that's all.”
He guided his horse to follow as she turned back toward the house, realizing that she'd given him the only answer she could at this point. But he knew, with a sinking feeling, what her eventual answer would be. Jasmine Hall was not a house, and not merely a home; it was a part of Banner. And no matter how gracious this innately Southern lady would be over the loss of that, it would never be forgotten.
She would forgive him for what he would have to do to her. But she would never be able to forget.
The merry lunch was over. The guests were gone, the horses stabled for a night's rest before those belonging to the guests would be trailered or ridden home. Banner had vanished to her room, silent, troubled, withdrawn. And Rory changed from his costume before leaving his own, still- scented room.
He wandered for a while, restless, his mind working keenly but finding no solution. He heard Jake's voice once and deliberately took a hallway angling away from that sound; he didn't want to talk to the older man just yet.
He wanted to think.
Rory knew now why the idea of depriving Banner of a home was so painful to him. He had known since he'd heard the jealousy in his own voice that morning when he'd been confronted with what he'd feared to be a rival. It had been ashock to him to realize what he felt for Banner was much more than simple desire.
Dear God, so quickly? He didn't know why it had happened—not specifically. If asked, he could only have pointed to absurd little things brought into focus by his bemused mind. The vulnerable little quiver of her lower lip. The way she rubbed her nose in a rueful, unconscious gesture. The drawling lilt in her voice. The sight of a Southern lady riding sidesaddle on a prancing horse named El Cid.
Unseeing, Rory stopped in the middle of the hallway, his gaze fixed absently on a painting hanging on the wall. He couldn't, he knew, bear to be the man who took her home away from her. Nor could he disclaim responsibility and walk away, leaving her future and that of Jasmine Hall unresolved. He wanted to be a part of her future, but would she want that after losing her home?
She didn't want to be a part of a package deal. Her pride. He couldn't blame her for that. Whatwould she say if he said, “Marry me and live with me here at the Hall”?
She could say any number of things. She could attribute the proposal to a guilty conscience— and say no. She could think that he'd chosen to forego his mother's advice and mix business and pleasure—and say no. She could decide quite realistically that she hardly knew him—and say no. She could wear her pride like her name and vanish from his life—without even saying no.
Rory swore softly, tonelessly. Boxed in, trapped. Damned, no matter what he did. After a long moment, his unseeing gaze sharpened. His mind churned violently, then settled down. Rap idly, he considered his sudden thought. Would it work? Maybe. It was a chance. His one chance.
He swung around and went quickly down the hall, heading for the front door. Couldn't use the phone here. Might be overheard, and it wouldn't do to let anyone in on his idea until he was sure it would work. She'd probably be mad as hell even if it did work—at first, anyway.
He'd have to chance it.
“Rory?” Jake, coming out of the library, was clearly startled to see his guest making for the front door as if he were being chased by something large and carnivorous.
“I have to go to town for something,” Rory explained rapidly without explaining a thing and not pausing for a reply.
Jake stared rather blankly at the door as it closed behind his guest. His keen eyes cleared after a moment. “Wonder what that boy's up to?” he murmured to himself thoughtfully.
“Are you talking to
He guided his horse to follow as she turned back toward the house, realizing that she'd given him the only answer she could at this point. But he knew, with a sinking feeling, what her eventual answer would be. Jasmine Hall was not a house, and not merely a home; it was a part of Banner. And no matter how gracious this innately Southern lady would be over the loss of that, it would never be forgotten.
She would forgive him for what he would have to do to her. But she would never be able to forget.
The merry lunch was over. The guests were gone, the horses stabled for a night's rest before those belonging to the guests would be trailered or ridden home. Banner had vanished to her room, silent, troubled, withdrawn. And Rory changed from his costume before leaving his own, still- scented room.
He wandered for a while, restless, his mind working keenly but finding no solution. He heard Jake's voice once and deliberately took a hallway angling away from that sound; he didn't want to talk to the older man just yet.
He wanted to think.
Rory knew now why the idea of depriving Banner of a home was so painful to him. He had known since he'd heard the jealousy in his own voice that morning when he'd been confronted with what he'd feared to be a rival. It had been ashock to him to realize what he felt for Banner was much more than simple desire.
Dear God, so quickly? He didn't know why it had happened—not specifically. If asked, he could only have pointed to absurd little things brought into focus by his bemused mind. The vulnerable little quiver of her lower lip. The way she rubbed her nose in a rueful, unconscious gesture. The drawling lilt in her voice. The sight of a Southern lady riding sidesaddle on a prancing horse named El Cid.
Unseeing, Rory stopped in the middle of the hallway, his gaze fixed absently on a painting hanging on the wall. He couldn't, he knew, bear to be the man who took her home away from her. Nor could he disclaim responsibility and walk away, leaving her future and that of Jasmine Hall unresolved. He wanted to be a part of her future, but would she want that after losing her home?
She didn't want to be a part of a package deal. Her pride. He couldn't blame her for that. Whatwould she say if he said, “Marry me and live with me here at the Hall”?
She could say any number of things. She could attribute the proposal to a guilty conscience— and say no. She could think that he'd chosen to forego his mother's advice and mix business and pleasure—and say no. She could decide quite realistically that she hardly knew him—and say no. She could wear her pride like her name and vanish from his life—without even saying no.
Rory swore softly, tonelessly. Boxed in, trapped. Damned, no matter what he did. After a long moment, his unseeing gaze sharpened. His mind churned violently, then settled down. Rap idly, he considered his sudden thought. Would it work? Maybe. It was a chance. His one chance.
He swung around and went quickly down the hall, heading for the front door. Couldn't use the phone here. Might be overheard, and it wouldn't do to let anyone in on his idea until he was sure it would work. She'd probably be mad as hell even if it did work—at first, anyway.
He'd have to chance it.
“Rory?” Jake, coming out of the library, was clearly startled to see his guest making for the front door as if he were being chased by something large and carnivorous.
“I have to go to town for something,” Rory explained rapidly without explaining a thing and not pausing for a reply.
Jake stared rather blankly at the door as it closed behind his guest. His keen eyes cleared after a moment. “Wonder what that boy's up to?” he murmured to himself thoughtfully.
“Are you talking to
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