enough and was shoved aside. Another moment, and Tom slammed the front door behind him.
“That was unfortunate,” Samantha said.
“Forget about him,” Fargo said. “I’m not waiting another minute for you to tell me why you’ve sent for me.”
“Certainly.” Samantha smiled. “I want you to be my partner in a hunt unlike any other. There’s just one catch.” Her smile faded. “I can’t guarantee we’ll live through it.”
6
The twenty riders wound along a pockmarked trail that was taking them steadily deeper into the lush green forest. High above, the morning sun blazed bright. Around them, songbirds warbled and squirrels scampered.
It was as perfect as a day could be, but Skye Fargo didn’t let it lull him into letting his guard down. Not when there had been two attempts on his life.
A monarch butterfly flitted past. Fargo watched it, envying it its freedom. Arching his back, he stretched and breathed deep of the rich wood scent. He wished he was back in the Rocky Mountains.
Hooves thudded, and Charles Clyborn came up next to him. “Good morning. We hadn’t had a chance to talk yet and I thought this an excellent opportunity.” As usual, Charles was immaculately dressed, this time in a riding outfit that was the pinnacle of fashion.
“Did you, now?”
“I’m sorry. Am I bothering you? I only wanted to make your acquaintance.” Charles smiled. “Frankly, I’m surprised you’re still here. I understand my sister explained everything.”
“She’s paying me a thousand dollars a day.”
“Ah. To you I suppose that’s a lot of money. Even so,”—and Charles’s smile became a frown—“do you have any idea what you have let yourself in for?”
“A hunt, she called it.”
“She told you all the rest? How this was our father’s bizarre idea? How he refused to leave each of us an inheritance, as any reasonable person would have done? No, that wasn’t good enough for him. Or I should say it wasn’t vicious enough. So he concocted this ridiculous contest where we must pit ourselves against each another.”
“It’s mighty unusual,” Fargo conceded. Which was putting it mildly. According to the will, only one of Clyborn’s children could inherit his enormous wealth and vast holdings. It would all go to whoever won a special hunt. “How far is it to this hunting lodge of yours?”
“As the crow flies, the lodge is about twelve miles from the mansion. Since we left at seven we should be there by noon at the very latest.” Charles sniffed. “I have only ever been there a few times. I am not the hunter Roland is. With him it’s a passion. I’ve never liked the sight of blood or seeing animals suffer.”
“They don’t if you drop them with one shot.”
“You sound like Roland. Me, I would much rather enjoy the comforts of my club. A fine dinner with friends, a friendly game of cards or perhaps chess, a glass or three of vintage port, and intelligent conversation.” Charles gazed about with distaste. “The wilds are not to my liking. The sun burns my skin and the plants makes me itch and don’t get me started on the mosquitoes and other bugs.”
“You’re a city boy at heart.”
“I freely admit it, yes. My life would be complete if Father had left me a paltry million or two. I could spend the rest of my days doing what I love best. But he hated me as much as he hated the rest and he refused my request.” Charles glanced back. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I shouldn’t leave my partner alone too long. He hates the wilds as much as I do.” Reining around, Charles rode back down the line.
As Fargo understood the rules, each of them was allowed to have one person help them in the hunt. Samantha had sent for him. Charles had picked a friend from his club. Charlotte chose a female cousin about her age. Emmett had a friend from town. Tom’s partner was a sullen, hulking backwoodsman. Roland was the only one who intended to hunt alone.
Hooves drummed again, and Samantha took Charles’s place at Fargo’s side. “What were the two of you talking about just now?”
“How much your brother loves the outdoors.”
Samantha was wearing a blue riding habit with buttons up the front and a full skirt. The jacket had white at the collar and white at the ends of the sleeves. She had put her hair up in back, and her top hat was tipped forward. She also wore doeskin gloves and had a riding crop in her left hand. “Charles has disliked nature ever since he was seven and he was bitten by a garter snake.”
“That outfit fits you real nice.”
“Don’t start. I rebuffed your advances yesterday and I will rebuff them today.” Samantha smiled thinly. “I’m well aware of your reputation, Mr. Fargo. It’s claimed that you have bedded more women than Casanova.”
“Who?”
“A great lover. It is alleged that he made love to over a thousand in his lifetime.”
“That’s all?”
For the first time since Fargo met her, Samantha Clyborn laughed. “Humility is not one of your traits, I see. But I must admit there are moments when you amuse me.”
Fargo leaned toward her and raked her body with a hungry stare that left no doubt as to his meaning when he said, “I can do a lot more than that.”
“Honestly.” Samantha shook her head. “You never give up, do you? What will it take to get it through your head that I’m not the least bit interested?”
“I know better.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. If I have refused myself male companionship all these years, why would I possibly indulge in a dalliance with you, of all people?”
“Because there are no strings attached,” Fargo answered truthfully. “We do it and that’s it. You’ll never see me again after this weekend is over and I’ll never tell a soul you indulged.”
“That’s hardly sufficient cause. Can’t you think of anything better?” she mockingly asked.
“I can think of one thing.”
“What would that be?”
“The feeling you get when you gush.”
Samantha jerked her head back as if he had slapped her. “I daresay you are the most brazen man I’ve ever met. You have no respect for a lady.”
“I have plenty of respect,” Fargo disagreed. “I also know something about ladies that most men don’t.”
“Oh? And what would that be?”
“A lady will part her legs just like any other woman if she is interested enough.”
“I should slap you.”
“I’d slap you back.”
Samantha’s eyes blazed with anger. “You’re the most aggravating man I’ve ever met and that includes my father.” Reining sharply around, she jabbed her heels.
Fargo chuckled. He had planted the seed. Now all he could do was wait and see if it took root. On a whim he jabbed his own heels and rode to the head of the line. “Mind some company?”
Roland was in the lead. He wore the same tweed hunting garb as the day before, and in addition to the stag-hilted hunting knife he had a Smith and Wesson revolver on his other hip. “Not at all. Out of all of them, you’re the only one I have anything in common with.”
“I wanted to ask. Why didn’t you pick a partner like the rest?”
“No need,” Roland said. “I’ve hunted every square foot of this forest. An exaggeration, perhaps, but not by much. Whatever we’re to hunt down, I’m confident I’ll win the inheritance.”
“No one knows what it is?”
Roland shook his head. “It’s a condition of the will. Pickleman is to read the clause that explains everything this evening after supper. All we know is that my father called it a hunt.”
Fargo was surprised by what he said next.
