Just Imagine aka Risen Glory

3

Cain made Kit sleep in a small, second-story bedroom that night instead of in her pleasant leather- and dust- scented room above the stalls. His orders were precise. Until he decided what to do with her, she couldn't work with the horses. And if she tried to run away, he'd bar her from Risen Glory forever.

The next morning, she fled back to the stable and huddled miserably in the corner with a book called The Sybaritic Life of Louis XV, which she'd sneaked out of the library several days earlier. After a while, she dozed off and dreamed of thunderstorms, bonnets, and the King of France romping with his mistress, Madame de Pompadour, across the cotton-laced fields of Risen Glory.

When she awoke, she felt groggy and heavy-limbed. She slumped dejectedly outside Apollo's stall with her elbows resting on the greasy knees of her britches. In all her planning, she'd never anticipated what it would feel like to look an unarmed man square in the eye and pull the trigger.

The stable door opened, letting in the feeble light of an overcast afternoon. Merlin scampered across the floor and flung himself at Kit, nearly knocking her hat off in his exuberance. Magnus followed at a more leisurely pace, his boots stopping near her own.

She refused to lift her eyes. 'I'm not in the mood for conversation right now, Magnus.'

'Can't say I'm surprised. The major told me what happened last night. That was some trick you pulled, Miss Kit.'

It was the form of address she was accustomed to hearing at home, but he made it sound like an insult. 'What happened last night was between me and the major. It's none of your business.'

'I don't like misjudging people, and as far as I'm concerned, there's nothin' about you that's any of my business anymore.' He picked up an empty bucket and left the stable.

She threw down her book, grabbed a brush, and headed into the stall that housed a russet mare named Saratoga. She didn't care what Cain's orders were. If she didn't keep busy, she'd go crazy.

She was running her hands down Saratoga's hind legs when she heard the door open, lumping up, she whirled around to see Cain standing in the center aisle of the stable, regarding her with granite-hard eyes.

'My orders were clear, Kit. No work in the stable.'

'The good Lord gave me two strong arms,' she retorted. 'I'm no good at sittin' idle.'

'Grooming horses isn't an appropriate activity for a young lady.'

She stared at him hard, trying to see if he was making fun of her, but she couldn't read his expression. 'If there's work to be done, I believe in doin' it. A sybaritic life doesn't appeal to me.'

'Stay away from the stable,' he said tightly.

She opened her mouth to protest, but he was too quick for her. 'No arguments. I want you cleaned up and in the library after dinner so I can talk to you.' He turned on his heel and strode out the stable door, his powerful, long-legged gait too graceful for a man of his size.

Kit reached the library first that evening. In token obedience to Cain's orders, she'd scrubbed the middle of her face, but she felt too vulnerable to do any more. She needed to feel strong now, not like a girl.

The door opened, and Cain came into the room. He was dressed in his customary at-home uniform of fawn trousers and white shirt, open at the throat. His eyes flicked over her. 'I thought I told you to get cleaned up.'

'I washed my face, didn't I?'

'It's going to take a lot more than that. How can you stand to be so filthy?'

'I don't hold much with baths.'

'Seems to me there are a lot of things you don't 'hold much' with. But you're taking a bath before you spend another night here. Edith Simmons is threatening to quit, and I'll be damned if I lose a housekeeper because of you. Besides, you stink up the place.'

'I do not!'

'Hell you don't. Even if it's only temporary, I am your guardian, and right now you're taking orders from me.'

Kit froze. 'What you talkin' about, Yankee? What do you mean, 'guardian'?'

'And here I thought there wasn't anything that got past you.'

'Tell me!'

She thought she saw a flash of sympathy in his eyes. It disappeared as he explained the details of the guardianship and the fact that he was also the administrator of her trust fund.

Kit barely remembered the grandmother who'd set aside the money for her. The trust fund had been a constant source of resentment to Rosemary, and she'd forced Garrett to consult one lawyer after another about breaking it, to no avail. Although Kit supposed she should be grateful to her grandmother, the money was useless. She needed it now, not in five years or when she got married, which she wouldn't ever do.

'The guardianship is Rosemary's joke from the grave,' Cain concluded.

'That damn lawyer didn't say anything to me about a guardian. I don't believe you.'

'I've seen your temper firsthand. Did you give him a chance to explain?'

With a sinking heart, she remembered how she'd forced him out of the house as soon as he'd told her about Cain's inheritance, even though he'd said there was more.

'What did you mean earlier about it bein' a temporary state?'

'You don't think I'm going to let myself be saddled with you for the next five years, do you?' The Hero of Missionary Ridge actually shuddered. 'Early tomorrow morning, I'm leaving for South Carolina to get this mess straightened out. Mrs. Simmons will watch over you until I get back. It shouldn't be much more than three or four weeks.'

She clasped her hands behind her back so he couldn't see that they'd started to tremble. 'How're you plannin' on straightening things out?'

'I'm going to find you another guardian, that's how.'

She dug her fingernails into her palms, terrified to ask her next question, yet knowing she had to. 'What's goin' to happen… to Risen Glory?'

He studied the toe of his boot. 'I'm going to sell it.'

Something like a growl erupted from Kit's throat. 'No!'

He raised his head and met her eyes. 'I'm sorry, Kit. It's for the best.'

Kit heard the note of steel in his voice, and felt the few fragile remnants of the only world she knew snap She didn't even notice when Cain left the room.

Cain needed to get ready for a high-stakes game in one of the Astor House's private dining rooms. Instead, he wandered to the bedroom window. Not even the prospect of the late-night invitation he'd received from a famous opera singer lifted his spirits. It all seemed like too much trouble.

He thought about the violet-eyed scamp under his roof. Earlier, when he'd told her he was selling Risen Glory, she'd looked as though he'd shot her.

His rumination was interrupted by the shatter of glass and his housekeeper's scream. He swore and dashed into the hall.

The bathroom was a shambles. Broken glass lay near the copper tub, and clothing was scattered across the floor. A container of talc had spilled over the marble basin and dusted the black walnut wainscoting. Only the water in the tub was undisturbed, pale gold in the light of the gas jets.

Kit was holding Mrs. Simmons at bay with a mirror. She had the handle clenched in one fist like a saber. Her other hand gripped a towel around her naked body as she backed the unfortunate housekeeper to the door. 'Nobody's givin' me a bath! You get out of here!'

'What the hell's going on?'

Mrs. Simmons grabbed him. 'That hoyden's trying to murder me! She threw a bottle of witch hazel! It just missed my head.' She fanned her face and moaned. 'I can feel an attack of my neuralgia coming on.'

'Go lie down, Edith.' Cain's flint-hard eyes found Kit. 'I'll take over.'

The housekeeper was too upset to protest the impropriety of leaving him alone with his naked ward, and she fled down the hallway muttering darkly of neuralgia and hoydens.

For all of Kit's bravado, he could see that she was frightened. Briefly he considered relenting, but he knew he wouldn't be doing her a favor. The world was a dangerous place for women, but it was doubly treacherous for naive