Daniel rode with athletic grace, ease, and unabashed joy. This stunt settled one matter for her—she would never mistake this man for his brother again.
They were like opposing faces on a coin. While they looked alike, Bedford was self-contained, aloof, and, well . . . aristocratic. Daniel’s years abroad had clearly stamped their imprint on him. Like his adopted country, from the little she had viewed of him, Daniel was bold, unconventional, and daring . . . if not a bit wild. All marked him as dangerous. She vowed to keep her distance from the man even as she leaned forward to get an unobstructed view of horse and rider.
After coming full circle, Daniel bent over the stallion’s neck and suddenly the pair were trotting straight toward her.
Stunned, she stood rooted in place, watching Daniel dismount before her.
He jumped clear of the horse, tossed the reins to Robbie as he landed, dark hair tousled, eyes alight, and a rakish smile splitting his face. He strode over to where she stood. From the buttonhole of his jacket, he withdrew a perfect bloodred rose.
Bowing low, he presented his offering. “My lady, this humble English rose is but a pale tribute to your dazzling beauty.”
The pounding in her heart matched the thunderous applause, while Daniel’s gallant action confirmed her worst fear.
He had returned to torment her.
Worse, he was succeeding.
Chapter Four
DANIEL watched the play of emotions cross Julia’s expressive features. She looked as if she yearned to toss his tribute back in his face, but with an audience of so many, she refrained. The bold, reckless, kiss-me-if-you-dare Julia of yesterday would have, but not this poised and collected lady. Dressed in a tidy sapphire blue jacket and light blue day gown, she was miss prim and proper.
He preferred the Julia of yesterday. He would like to strip away the layers she wore like a protective shield and find the unconventional Julia, particularly if it involved more kisses.
Julia snatched the rose from his hand. She hadn’t doused all of yesterday’s fire. Some of it still simmered. Good, he liked a woman with spirit.
“Well said,” someone hooted.
Daniel lifted an arm to acknowledge their audience, who brandished their hats in approval. When he turned back to Julia, he caught sight of Emily, and his smile broadened. “I see I have need of a second gift.” He bowed again. “My apologies.”
“You remember my younger sister, Lady Emily.” Julia edged closer to her sister.
He noted the protective move. His gaze shifted between them, marveling at the differences. Both had the deep blue Chandler eyes, but while Julia had a riotous mass of curling hair, Emily was fair, her hair a tidy, sun-kissed yellow. Julia’s countenance was coolly assessing, Emily’s open and warm. Emily was reed thin, a strong gust of wind capable of toppling her. Daniel usually preferred his women willow slim, but as of yesterday, his preference had changed. Curves on a fuller figure were definitely an asset he had overlooked. He would not do so again.
“Charm and a splendid seat, my lord,” Emily said. “Pray tell, what spells have you woven to turn Robbie’s horse from devil to angel?”
“No magic. I simply had a chat with him, and we came to an understanding. Angel?” He tested the name out on his tongue, looking over to study Black Devil, whom Robbie was leading in an encore circle of the paddock. “Black Angel.” Yes, it would do beautifully. He smiled at Emily. “I was wondering what to rename him. I could not have chosen better myself. Forget the single rose, I owe you a dozen.”
“And what does Robbie have to say about your renaming his prized stallion?” Julia said, regarding him with suspicion.
“Robbie has no say in the matter. The horse is mine. Black Angel will do.”
“You bought Black Devil?” She looked surprised.
“I did, along with another stallion trained to saddle, a handsome chestnut named Chase. I have need of a horse during my visit.”
“And how long will you be staying?” Emily asked.
“I do not intend on leaving too soon. I have a lot of catching up to do. Ten years’ worth.” His eyes locked with Julia’s, and when a high-pitched bellow of Emily’s name distracted her, he could not resist leaning toward Julia. Lowering his voice, his eyes dipped to her mouth. “And I am enjoying catching up very much.”
Spots of pink colored her cheeks, and the rose she held took a precarious dive as her fist strangled around its stem.
“If you will excuse me, that bellow is for me,” Emily said dryly. “Welcome home, Lord Bryant. I do hope you enjoy your visit and Black Angel.”
“Oh, I already am.” He smiled, holding Julia’s gaze.