Chapter One
Spring 1814
Every English village had to have at least one eccentric --
and Mary Gates, the old squire's daughter, was Lyford
Meadows's. She dressed in mens clothing, was capable of
outswearing a stable hand, and claimed to be as good as
any man alive, if not better...especially when the subject
was horses.
Tye Barlow stifled the urge to swear aloud himself as he
spied her winding her way through the crowded yard. He'd
not wanted her here. Had hoped she'd stay away. Why didn't
Mary know her place like other women?
Instead, she moved among the completely male crowd of
buyers assembled at Lord Spender's stables for the horse
auction with an easy, loose-limbed grace, seemingly
oblivious to the surprised but appreciative silence
trailing in her wake. Conversations stopped. Eyebrows
raised. Speculation appeared in men's eyes.
Tye understood their response. Mary was a beauty, the
loveliest woman in the shire, a fragrant red rose among
the smell of muck and horses. Aristocratic breeding might
mark her high cheekbones and straight, elegant, patrician
nose, but in the depths of her sea-green eyes was a hint
of fire, a trait passed to her from some Viking ancestor
who had raided these parts...and she had a sensual, full
lower lip that begged to be kissed.
Nor did her unconventional dress disguise womanly curves.
Her buff breeches were baggy in the seat, her brown wool
jacket overlong, and yet from the scuffed toes of her worn
boots to the rakish tilt of her beaverskin hat, her
mannish dress enhanced feminine attributes in a way that
excited masculine imagination. Her sole concession to her
sex was the trim of lace edging her snowy white neckcloth,
a cool, silent thumbing of her nose at the world.
Mary did what she liked and didn't give a damn what anyone
thought.
She stopped to greet Lord Spender and removed her hat.
Sunlight caught and held on the gold-silver splendor of
her pale blonde hair. Pulled back in a simple queue, it
reached her waist and swung with the movement of her body
like a bright and dazzling lure.
Men gaped in stunned admiration. Several of them, the
outsiders, moved closer, their predatory instincts
aroused. Tye frowned. If she were smart she'd move her
tail nearer to where he stood -- alongside her brother-in-
law.
Of course, Mary always bragged she knew how to handle
unwelcome attention. And as much as she vowed she didn't
need or want a man in her life, he suspected she knew
exactly how attractive she was. In fact, right now, she
appeared to flaunt it -- and there didn't seem to be a man
in the area who could resist her.
Save himself.
Because he knew her. Too well.
Behind her vibrant beauty was the stubbornness of a high-
strung broodmare in foal. And when Mary kicked out in
anger, she always hit her target.
Her estate bordered his. Her grandfather had given his
grandfather a precious stake of land in gratitude for
years of devoted service, and her family had rued the day
since. In retaliation, her father had feuded with Tye's, a
feud Mary gleefully carried forward and he resignedly
upheld in self-defense.
Over the years, she had misdirected his water to her use
(convincing the magistrate she was completely within her
rights), attempted to move the property line no less than
seven times (Tye had won those skirmishes), and beat him
out of two sales of his foals by swaying the buyers to
purchase hers instead -- for a better price!
Ah, yes, Mary Gates was a major pain in his arse.
As if she sensed she was being watched, she slowly turned
and looked through the milling crowd directly at him. She
placed her hat on her head at a jaunty angle and gave him
a small salute. Instantly, Tye was on guard. She was up to
something. His frown deepened and she laughed.
He turned to David Atkinson, the local horse doctor and
her brother-in-law. "What is Mary doing here?"
Atkinson pulled his pipe from his mouth. "You couldn't
have expected her to stay away from the biggest horse
event of the season? Not Mary."
Tye had expected it. In fact, he'd gone to great pains to
keep the news of Spender's sale from her. It had not been
easy. He'd personally waylaid any handbills that could
have gone in her direction and sworn his friends to
secrecy.
"You didn't tell her?" Tye accused.
"No, but I would have." David shrugged. "She's my sister-
in-law."
"I pity you."
David grinned. "There are times," he admitted.
Brewster, the local pub owner, confessed, "I told her."
Tye confronted him. "You knew I didn't want her here. You
promised."
"Come, man, Mary's one of us. She has to be here. It's the
sale of the Stud," Brewster said in his defense.
"I told her, too," Blacky said. He was a barrelchested man
who ran the village smithy. "She has admired the Stud as
much as any of us. He's been a part of our lives and now
he will be gone. I remember when he won his first race. I
made a handsome profit and have always backed him since. I
can't believe Spender is selling him. 'Tis a pity this
day, I tell you. The sky should be black."
"Aye," Brewster said. "What will Lyford Meadows be without
the Stud?"
Tye understood their sentiments. He'd watched Tanners
Darby Boy grow since the horse was a green colt, had even
had a hand in his training. To date, Tanner was the
winningest horse in all Britain. Spender was a fool to
sell him just because the horse had gone lame. The foals
thrown from Tanner would be worth a fortune -- a fortune
Tye intended to make.
He'd come to...