The Daughter of an Earl by Victoria Morgan

and gray horses dotted the landscape.
    â€œIt is beautiful here.”
    She nodded. “Yes, it is lovely. The Tanner family has owned this land for well over a century.”
    â€œYou and your English love of exalted bloodlines, particularly as it roots you to the land.”
    She raised a brow at his cynicism. “Your mother isEnglish, and her late brother was the Duke of Prescott. That makes you
half
English, does it not?”
    â€œTrue,” he conceded. “That is the half in me that recognizes the beauty here and why the Tanners would never abandon it.” He grinned.
    Intrigued, she pressed him further. “And the other half? The American half, what does it see?”
    â€œRoots that bind.” His grin faded. “Tethers holding you to your
precious stone set in a silver sea
so you never venture beyond your shores, thus neglecting a wider world with riches to be explored, or as the businessman in me would say, to be exploited.”
    She recognized the
Richard II
Shakespearean reference, and tipping her head to the side, she studied him. “So you feel no kinship with any
blessed plot
of land? Not even in America?”
    â€œI do not.” He shrugged. “I am free to roam where my work or the new trading routes take me. Do not misunderstand me, I love my family’s home in Boston, but my schooling was in England, and I spent the term’s holidays at my uncle’s, only traveling home for the summer recess. So my affinity to my family estate is not as entrenched as yours or Daniel’s. Perhaps bridging two countries, both very different, I was never able to grow roots in either.”
    â€œI can understand that,” Emily said, marveling that she did. While she had planted herself in the country, it was not due to an affinity for the land, but rather an escape. A sanctuary she sought due to similar feelings of displacement, or rather, of no longer belonging anywhere else, Jason’s death unmooring her so.
    Disturbed at this unsettling connection between them, she reminded herself that she had her family, had recently become an aunt, and had a purpose. Those ties did bind, and they were enough.
    â€œWill you two stop squawking and dawdling!” Jonathan bellowed. “We need to get to the stallion before dark so we can see him.” He brandished his sword at them.
    Annoyance flared through Emily, but Brett simply laughed.
    â€œAye, aye, Captain. We will posthaste dispense with our dawdling and pick up our paces.” Beneath his breath, he added. “Will he stab us if we do not comply?”
    Her laughter surprised her. “Best not to risk it. As he has pointed out, he is armed and we are not.”
    â€œNot true. I have my cravat. We could tie him up.” He winked at her.
    She stared at the white muslin fashioned in a neat Gordian knot around his neck. It was a mistake, because her gaze then shifted to his lips, which were curved in a devastating half smile. Warmth flooded her, and she dismissed her concerns over Jonathan’s sword. Brett Curtis carried far more dangerous weapons.
    They crested another ridge to the field where the stallion was paddocked. Jonathan dashed ahead to clamber up the tall fence rail and lean over the top. “Cor, he’s splendid, isn’t he?”
    Emily silently agreed. The horse was a sleek black beauty, tall and regal. He lifted his head, and studied Jonathan with eyes dark as coal. After emitting a disdainful snort, he cantered away from them.
    â€œRobbie has done it again. Where does he find these prizes?” Brett said.
    â€œThey breed many, and his brothers scout for new stock. Robbie then travels to assess their finds. It is also my understanding that you let him know when purebred stock arrives at the docks.” She pulled her attention from the horse to look at Brett, whose gaze remained on the horse.
    He shrugged. “It is the least I can do after he saved my life. If not for his