Read Online A Heart for the Taking by Shirlee Busbee - Free Book Online
Authors: Shirlee Busbee
Ads: Link
the journey to Devil’s Own, his burgeoning plantation on the James River, but at least now he would be overseeing their feed and care.
The horses safely unloaded, Chance glanced around impatiently, wondering where Hugh and Morely could be—they had promised to be here to help him. The thought had hardly crossed his mind before he caught sight of two tall figures walking swiftly in his direction. The younger man was garbed much as he was, the older more soberly dressed in a dark gray suit of drab, a black stock tied neatly around his neck, and a three-cornered hat sitting on his unpowdered head. Both men wore their hair neatly clubbed in a queue at the nape of their necks.
At the sight of them, an easy smile curved Chance’s lips. Hugh, the younger man, was his closest friend, while Morely, Hugh’s father and more than likely his own, though he had never admitted it, had been guiding his steps and hovering over him for as long as he could remember. A faint shadow crossed Chance’s dark features. He’d often heard the tale of how Morely had shown up at his adopted parents’ home with a squalling infant in his arms. Morely had never admitted that he was Chance’s father, but he had also never explained how
he
had come to have possession of the infant.Nor had he ever offered any clue as to who the child’s mother might be.
Despite some resemblance between them, a resemblance shared by most of the widespread Walker clan, Chance didn’t honestly believe that Morely was his father. There was no reason for Morely to continue to remain silent about the issue. Everyone firmly believed, and had right from the beginning, that Chance was Morely’s bastard son. It would have been much easier for Morely to admit to being Chance’s father than to remain mysteriously close-mouthed about the matter, but that was precisely what he did. And while Chance had put away much of the speculation about his own birth years ago, he sometimes wondered, as now, what role Morely had really played in the events surrounding his entrance into the world. Was Morely his father? And if not, who was? And why had his father denied his existence all these years?
A teasing comment from Hugh jerked him from his musings. A wide smile creasing his handsome face, Hugh said merrily, “So these are the nags that you have commandeered us to help you deliver to Devil’s Own!”
“Nags?” Chance questioned with a mocking lift of his brow. “Have you no shame, denigrating in that cruel manner some of the finest horseflesh to reach the Colonies in recent memory?”
His gaze fastened avidly on the bay stallion, Hugh let out a deep sigh of pure appreciation. “Pay me no heed. I am just envious. Even after six weeks at sea, his quality shows through. Next spring you shall have horsemen from miles around wanting to breed their mares to that fellow. And as for the mares”—his eyes moved knowledgeably over them—“I think you should send your agent in London a bonus. He did very well by you.”
“Hugh is right,” Morely said, his own gaze roaming over the restive horses, “they are a fine trio and I think in years to come will repay your initial investment handsomely.”
There were now several silver strands in Morely’s dark hair, and his face was attractively lined, the passing years gently revealed. He still moved easily with a quick, lithestride, and while his middle had thickened slightly, time had treated him kindly.
Hugh looked very like him at the same age. There was not a half-an-inch difference in their heights, and Hugh had inherited his father’s build, as well as his dark hair and the Walker blue eyes. At twenty-seven, Hugh was the eldest of Morely’s four children, and he had long ago developed an unshakable case of hero worship for Chance. The fact that Chance might very well be his own half-brother only added to his allure to the younger man. Since Hugh was an extremely amiable and likable fellow, their friendship was
The horses safely unloaded, Chance glanced around impatiently, wondering where Hugh and Morely could be—they had promised to be here to help him. The thought had hardly crossed his mind before he caught sight of two tall figures walking swiftly in his direction. The younger man was garbed much as he was, the older more soberly dressed in a dark gray suit of drab, a black stock tied neatly around his neck, and a three-cornered hat sitting on his unpowdered head. Both men wore their hair neatly clubbed in a queue at the nape of their necks.
At the sight of them, an easy smile curved Chance’s lips. Hugh, the younger man, was his closest friend, while Morely, Hugh’s father and more than likely his own, though he had never admitted it, had been guiding his steps and hovering over him for as long as he could remember. A faint shadow crossed Chance’s dark features. He’d often heard the tale of how Morely had shown up at his adopted parents’ home with a squalling infant in his arms. Morely had never admitted that he was Chance’s father, but he had also never explained how
he
had come to have possession of the infant.Nor had he ever offered any clue as to who the child’s mother might be.
Despite some resemblance between them, a resemblance shared by most of the widespread Walker clan, Chance didn’t honestly believe that Morely was his father. There was no reason for Morely to continue to remain silent about the issue. Everyone firmly believed, and had right from the beginning, that Chance was Morely’s bastard son. It would have been much easier for Morely to admit to being Chance’s father than to remain mysteriously close-mouthed about the matter, but that was precisely what he did. And while Chance had put away much of the speculation about his own birth years ago, he sometimes wondered, as now, what role Morely had really played in the events surrounding his entrance into the world. Was Morely his father? And if not, who was? And why had his father denied his existence all these years?
A teasing comment from Hugh jerked him from his musings. A wide smile creasing his handsome face, Hugh said merrily, “So these are the nags that you have commandeered us to help you deliver to Devil’s Own!”
“Nags?” Chance questioned with a mocking lift of his brow. “Have you no shame, denigrating in that cruel manner some of the finest horseflesh to reach the Colonies in recent memory?”
His gaze fastened avidly on the bay stallion, Hugh let out a deep sigh of pure appreciation. “Pay me no heed. I am just envious. Even after six weeks at sea, his quality shows through. Next spring you shall have horsemen from miles around wanting to breed their mares to that fellow. And as for the mares”—his eyes moved knowledgeably over them—“I think you should send your agent in London a bonus. He did very well by you.”
“Hugh is right,” Morely said, his own gaze roaming over the restive horses, “they are a fine trio and I think in years to come will repay your initial investment handsomely.”
There were now several silver strands in Morely’s dark hair, and his face was attractively lined, the passing years gently revealed. He still moved easily with a quick, lithestride, and while his middle had thickened slightly, time had treated him kindly.
Hugh looked very like him at the same age. There was not a half-an-inch difference in their heights, and Hugh had inherited his father’s build, as well as his dark hair and the Walker blue eyes. At twenty-seven, Hugh was the eldest of Morely’s four children, and he had long ago developed an unshakable case of hero worship for Chance. The fact that Chance might very well be his own half-brother only added to his allure to the younger man. Since Hugh was an extremely amiable and likable fellow, their friendship was
Similar Books
