Texas Mum. Roz Fox Denny
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of a reigning princess. But maybe she was approachable.
Delaney weighed her words carefully. “I buzzed the intercom to ask for Dario, but Vicente refused to open the gate. By the way, your horse is beautiful.” Leaning down, Delaney stroked the palomino’s velvety nose.
The rider said nothing, but she also rubbed her mount’s golden neck.
Unhooking her shoes from her belt, Delaney slipped them on. “I’m Delaney Blair. It’s been five years since I met Dario in Texas. I should have phoned before coming here, I suppose. But I wanted to surprise him.”
“Oh, he’ll be surprised all right. You’re the American who broke my brother’s heart and caused a huge rift in my family.”
Laughing nervously, Delaney sat on her skirt and scooted to the front of the vehicle where she could more easily reach the ground. “I hardly broke his heart. He took off, never to be heard from again, and left mine in tatters.”
The flash of sympathy in the horsewoman’s chocolate-brown eyes made Delaney sigh and fess up. “Unfortunately Dario didn’t only leave behind a broken-hearted woman, but a son who isn’t well. Nickolas is why I’m here. He’s what I need to talk to Dario about.” It was clear to Delaney as she jumped to the ground that she had sent shock waves through the horsewoman.
“Did you tell Vicente that?” the girl demanded.
“No. He didn’t give me a chance.” Delaney slumped against the side of her vehicle.
“This is something Dayo needs to know,” the girl said, shortening her grip on the skittish horse. “If you climb up behind me, I will take you to see him. He’s out on the property. He has a crew banding a new crop of young bulls.”
The offer was a gift. Delaney stepped on the SUV’s running board, and, hiking up her sundress, she landed squarely on the palomino’s broad hindquarters. No stranger to horses or riding, she gripped the ornately carved saddle cantle. Her host somehow managed to remotely open the heretofore locked gate.
“I’m ready,” Delaney announced, and was glad she had a good hold, because Maria Sofia sent them rocketing into the walled compound.
The grounds were quite beautiful from what Delaney could see, with a profusion of flowers blooming around the sprawling home. She was then whisked toward rolling, grassy hills dotted with grazing bulls. Every so often the horse startled coveys of quail, which called out and darted across the hard-packed earth.
Settling the mare into a trot, the girl finally glanced back at Delaney. “You acted surprised to meet me. I wish I could see Texas. I guess there’s no reason you’d know I’m the youngest Sanchez. I’ve only been home two weeks from schooling in London. I recently completed my lessons there,” she added giving a shrug. “I’d rather have studied here instead of boarding, but Our Lady of Fatima was my mother’s alma mater. Papa insisted I attend the same Catholic girls’ school.”
So that’s why Maria Sofia spoke with a British accent. Delaney absorbed the girl’s words. Dario’s sister had unwittingly added another stumbling block Delaney hadn’t considered before—Delaney was Protestant and Dario was Catholic. As if she needed another thing to stress about.
They were approaching a corral. Peering around Maria Sofia, Delaney saw a few men wrestling a young bull through a narrow chute. When the palomino pulled up short and crow-hopped to one side, Delaney got her first glimpse of Dario. Her heart rate shot up as she remembered—the very first time she’d seen him in Texas had also been from behind. He was just as gorgeous today. His mile-wide shoulders tapered to a skinny butt encased in low-slung, well-worn denim. He had a lazy way of walking toward a bull that defied description. Delaney felt her mouth go dry as her brain exploded in a...wow! There was no doubt but that Dario Sanchez was even more striking at thirty-one than he’d been at twenty-six.
Maria Sofia called out, “Dayo, stop what you’re doing. I’ve brought you a visitor.”
* * *
DARIO DIDN’T TURN at once. Instead, he calmly shot a tag through the ear of an unhappy bull that bellowed and kicked at him. As two helpers dragged the bull out of the corral through a side gate, Dario spun and aimed an irritated look at his little sister for disrupting his work.
The whole family had expected Maria Sofia’s tomboy ways to be curtailed at her regimented girls’ school. Obviously that hadn’t gone as planned. Staring into the sun, Dario paused to blot sweat from his forehead with the back of one leather glove. “Look, Maria Sofia,” he yelled, “how many times have we all told you not to ride wildly into a corral where we’re working with bulls?” he said in a mix of English and Spanish.
“You’re bringing in one bull at a time,” she pointed out sweetly. “And this time I have good reason for making you take a break. Come, say hello to someone you haven’t seen in quite a while.” Reining her horse around, the girl directed her passenger to swing off the mare.
Dario shaded his eyes. For a split second he thought he was hallucinating as the bright sunshine reflected off the flame-red hair of a woman climbing down from the back of his sister’s horse. He went hot, then cold, and felt his tongue tangle with his teeth, impeding his ability to speak as he gaped at the lovely apparition walking toward him, her full skirt appealingly kicked up by the wind. Never had he expected to see Delaney Blair again. Certainly not at the estancia, and especially not in the company of his half sister who studied him with a wicked, mischievous smile.
Forcing back his initial surge of joy, Dario deliberately turned his back again. “Julio, bring in another bull. Maria Sofia, please, escort our uninvited guest the hell out of here and off our property.”
The last response Delaney had expected from Dario if ever they met again was that he’d totally and completely reject her in such a cavalier manner. She numbly registered Maria Sofia recklessly propelling the horse between Dario and the chute where two wiry men were dragging in another bellowing bull. Through her misery, Delaney saw the girl garner Dario’s attention.
“Honestly, you need to spare a minute and hear what Ms. Blair traveled so far to tell you.”
Reaching up, Dario grasped the mare’s soft leather hackamore, a bitless bridle favored by vaqueros to train horses. His sister had no fear and ignored most boundaries—it didn’t matter how many times he and his brothers lectured Maria Sofia about the dangers for a slip of a girl breaking a range horse that stood fifteen hands high. Her mother, Dario’s stepmother, had died in the accident that had maimed their father. From the moment she’d returned home from finishing school, she’d expected the predominantly male household to be lenient, Dario thought; even now she was openly challenging him.
He knew he shouldn’t let his sister manipulate him, but he gave in to curiosity. What possible reason could bring Delaney Blair to see him? Driven still by an anger he couldn’t explain for a woman he’d never been able to forget, who haunted his dreams, Dario strode up to Delaney and asked curtly, “Okay, so what do you want?”
“For us to be civil, or is that too much to ask?” Delaney wanted to lash out at Dario but knew she shouldn’t. An outburst would likely ruin her chance that he’d agree to be tested. She hated being reduced to dirt by his flint-hard eyes.
“It may be too much to ask,” he ground out. “Especially since I doubt you’ve just happened to drop by to catch up for old time’s sake.”
Their sharp exchange had drawn the attention of the men who’d apparently decided to hold back the next bull. Changing tack, Delaney softened her tone. “I’m sorry I popped in on you without warning. I expected you’d be surprised, not hostile. Be that as it may, can we have a word alone?” She flashed a hesitant look at their audience.
Dario’s first inclination was to refuse. But after glancing around, he saw how the others in the corral focused on them. Even Maria Sofia had dismounted and leaned toward them. Motioning for Delaney to