Read Online For the Taking by Lilian Darcy - Free Book Online

even while her jaw began to ache with the effort of bottling in her feelings.
    While he was inside the house gathering the extra picnic things she’d suggested, Lass saddled Willoughby and Milo and turned the other horses loosein their big, grassy field. They cantered away, then slowed to crop the fresh grass, which was still drenched in cool summer dew. The morning sun brought out the rich chestnut and ebony-black on their flanks.
    There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the horses seemed to appreciate the fact as much as humans did. Willoughby made a snickering sound, and Milo flicked his black tail and pricked his ears forward.
    Lass was thankful for the time alone, and for the horses. She was familiar with them. They gave her strength, as they always had, reminding her that she wasn’t just a prisoner of her heritage and her past. There was more to her than that—a whole lot more to her than her unusual innocence and her haunted relationship with the sea.
    When Loucan emerged from the house, Lass was already mounted and leading Milo alongside Willoughby in the direction of the kitchen door.
    “All set,” he said. He was wearing the second backpack she kept on a hook behind the door, and he carried a battered object in his hand. He held it up. “Is the hat okay?”
    “To borrow it? Sure, why not?”
    He’d found her old Akubra—the traditional Australian stockman’s hat, equivalent to a Texan’s Stetson and made of felt. Lass almost always wore it outdoors. Last year, she’d bought herself a new one in dark gray, but secretly she still preferred this old brown one with its creases and its worn places. An Akubra wasn’t a real hat until it had traveled a few hundred miles on horseback or a few thousand in a farmer’s pickup truck.
    On Loucan it looked like a classic, creases and holes included, and she couldn’t help telling him so.
    “Thank you, ma’am.”
    He drawled the words like an American cowboy as he tipped it into his hand, then slapped it low onto his head once more, climbed through the post-and-rail fence and swung himself into Milo’s saddle. The animal shifted his feet a couple of times, then settled as if he recognized the feel of experienced hands on the reins.
    “Where are we headed?” Loucan asked.
    “Across the paddock.” She used the Australian word for field. “Through the gate and onto one of the forestry trails. It leads to a creek. I like to stop there and…well, listen to the birds, and to the water. It’s nothing like the sea,” she added, and knew that she sounded far too defensive. “The sea sighs and roars. The creek gurgles over the rocks. It’s less dramatic, but more musical. We might hear kookaburras laughing, too. They’re only birds, but they sound exactly as if they’re all enjoying a great joke.”
    “Sounds good,” he said. “I love the smell of the air here.”
    “It’s the eucalyptus. The leaves release some of their oil into the air. I’ve heard that’s what makes the skies so blue here, too. The oil in the atmosphere intensifies the color.”
    “It’s true I’ve never seen skies quite as blue as this.”
    They rode in silence until after they’d passed through the gate. Lass dismounted and opened it, and Loucan led Willoughby through, managing with ease what could sometimes be an awkward maneuver.
    “You must have ridden a lot, at one time.” It wasn’t quite an accusation on her part, but almost.
    “When I was married,” he answered. “My wife was an Arizona rancher’s daughter.”
    “You’re married? Or, no, you were. Once.”
    “We were divorced a long time ago,” he said. “It’s been, what, around seventeen years since I sat a horse. For a couple of years, I rode nearly every day. I got to like it. It was one of the few things that made up for how much I missed the sea.”
    “Tell me what else you want from me, Loucan,” Lass begged him suddenly. “It’s too hard like this. Just waiting for you to say it. Hearing the way