They rode out on the horses the Duc had brought from Paris, a beautiful gray barb mare for Daisy and his own favorite black who'd helped him score most of his goals this past year. With Daisy as guide, they traveled the length of the valley and up into the foothills rimming the open country.
He'd never seen her on a horse before because she'd disdained riding in the Bois as too tame and sedate. She was a skilled rider, as he'd expected, coming from her background, sitting comfortably and at ease on an unfamiliar mount, holding her reins with a casualness only the best riders developed.
Dressed in leather pants, moccasins, and red-plaid jacket, her long black hair loose on her shoulders, Daisy seemed in harmony with the natural beauty of the country. She knew the terrain intimately, indicating features of interest of him, showing him those boundary markers that were close, even pointing out the original survey markers now obscured and overgrown by underbrush. All the section lines and subdivisions were familiar to her, and when he marveled at her wealth of pertinent information, Daisy said, "We've been fighting to retain our land for almost thirty years. I've been personally involved for the last ten, so I know the plat maps as well as I know my name. As well as I know mining law. Probably," she added with a faint smile, "as well as you know railroad development."
"I should take advantage then of your"—his green gaze was sportive—"expertise."
"I certainly have enjoyed yours." Her tone was playful. "After last night, I feel I owe you. What do you want to know?"
And they discussed at length the possibility of developing new mining properties, the locations of the newest deposits, the profits available from copper mining, both short-term and extended, the new coal bodies being exploited, the labor organizations coming into existence.
The Duc understood railroads, but Daisy's competence in every facet of mining was formidable. When they stopped in midafternoon to rest and eat the picnic lunch Louis had sent with them, they went into some of the specifics about possible partnerships with her family.
They ate the simple roast beef sandwiches and peach pie Cook had made, drinking from the clear cold water of the stream at the foot of the clearing. And when Daisy yawned for the third time in one sentence, the Duc suggested she nap before they start back.
"We were going to go shopping for baby clothes. Is it too late?" She had this overwhelming urge to purchase little lacy, embroidered baby things. Tiny booties and ribboned bonnets, silver rattles and engraved cups.
"It's half past three. We won't have time to ride back to the ranch, change, and drive into town. We'll go tomorrow… if you wake up early enough," he teased.
"I won't take full blame for my fatigue," Daisy protested with lazy good humor.
"Nor should you." His smile was warm, the well-house at Newport a favorite memory of his. "But since baby is still seven and a half months from needing a wardrobe, I'd say we could wait another day or so for our shopping trip. This week you're not allowed to work—only rest and take care of yourself."
"And you."
"And me," he softly agreed.
He made a bed for her from scented pine boughs, covered her with his jacket, and seated beside her, held her hand while she slept. For a man who'd never known contentment, he was content. For a man who'd never known the fulfillment of loving a woman, he was converted. And for a man who had always considered himself as de Vec, an integral element in his country's cultural past and tradition, he was now seated on newly purchased ground in a frontier country holding the warm hand of the woman who had brought him so far from home.
And brought him imminent fatherhood.
And probably too—a new understanding of priorities.
Bourges would have to become more active in his business affairs. He trusted him. Justin would have to begin assuming some responsibility too.
Once the baby was born and Daisy's current court cases concluded, they would have to negotiate for some semblance of equal time in Paris.
He smiled faintly.
Maybe.
It might be easier, he decided, to talk Bourges into being his business manager. He was too apt to let Daisy have her way.
The sun was slipping below the horizon in a flaming crimson display, hovering for sleek moments on the shadowed mountain-tops before disappearing in tattered remnants of magenta and gold.
The silence of the forest clearing seemed to deepen in the shadowed calm of evening, and when Daisy stirred, the rustle of pine boughs was distinct in the quiet twilight.
As if she felt the new absence of light, she opened her eyes, taking a lingering moment of conscious reckoning to remember where she was. "I'm sorry I slept so long," she murmured, her hand engulfed in Etienne's warm palm, his protection and solicitude tangible. "Are you getting cold?"
He shook his head. "The sun just went down."
"I suppose I have to get up…"
"I can carry you back."
He would, too, she realized and wondered for a moment whether she'd become spoiled for the real world in Etienne's indulgent care. She could do absolutely nothing for herself if she wished, a startling change from her former independent existence.
"Last night was enervating. I'll be more prudent tonight and let you sleep."
"You must be tired," Daisy said, sitting up.
"I'm fine." The Duc was used to a careless schedule of sleep. "Do you want to ride alone or with me?"
"Your black might complain."
"He won't; he knows better. Besides, today's excursion is like a rest cure compared to two periods of polo. He's on holiday."
But Daisy rode by herself after stretching and yawning and waking up more completely while Etienne saddled the horses. And when they returned to the ranch, he insisted Daisy go into the house while he take the horses
