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road to Treemont mansion had
not changed a great deal. The oaks were older, of course, as was
he. The crushed-stone path was a neat as he remembered and the red
brick edifice in the distance appeared the same. But the columns
and dormers seemed more gray than white as the sun concentrated its
beams there. Beyond the oaks, the brush had sprouted up, adding to
the deep shadows along the lengthy route.
    Hunter Maguire pressed the soles of his
booted feet firmly into the stirrups, stretching his long muscular
legs by almost standing in the saddle. The journey from his home
near the James River had been tedious, although not overly long. He
knew what had really made him weary was making the decision to
return to Treemont or not. He had tossed the idea around for weeks.
In fact, the idea had crossed his mind numerous times over the
years since his last visit; mainly because of his ongoing curiosity
about Maggie and how she may have changed. But, being perfectly
honest, he was in the market for a good stallion. So far his trip
had been profitable and he did not doubt that Alastair would have
some good stock to add to those he had already chosen. A great
stallion to match the two excellent mares already on their way to
his home would top off the trip perfectly.
    He relaxed once again in the saddle. Soon he
would enjoy a thirst-quenching drink and, he hoped, a long hot
bath.
    Over the years Hunter had corresponded with
Alastair Downing occasionally with the result an open invitation to
visit Treemont again had been extended only a few months ago.
Curiosity, as much as the desire to find a champion stallion had
fostered Hunter’s decision to return; obviously if the bright,
delightful Maggie had not totally left his memories during their
time apart, he could not turn his back without knowing the woman
she had become. Clearly Maggie’s spark for living had touched him
in a way no other woman had. Alastair had not mentioned her in all
this time, so she could be married for all he knew. But the sudden
invitation to visit Treemont had raised his curiosity.
    Margaret drew herself up as thin and tall as
possible in order to remain unobserved, although she was certain
the thunder of her rapidly beating heart would reveal her
presence.
    She’d heard the muted clip-clop of a horse’s
hooves and, though it was childish, she was hiding behind a tree.
She frowned and considered why she was really hiding as Hunter
Maguire rode by her secret place. He had taken her by surprise, of
course. That was the major reason. She just had not expected to see
him so suddenly and she was not prepared for a meeting.
    Maggie peered around the tree at his
retreating back. He sat his horse proudly and confidently. His
finely tailored coat moved slightly as he swayed with the rhythm of
the horse’s movements. He was still as fine an equestrian as she
remembered. And that was a problem; she remembered him too well and
too fondly.
    She ducked back behind the tree, frowning as
she quickly looked about for an escape route. But when she dared to
look up the road again, he had vanished.
    Sensing danger of exposure, Maggie moved
deeper into the oaks where the shadows were darkest. The last thing
she wanted was to meet him here beside the lane, before she had
time to prepare herself to face him.
    She darted to the safety of the next
tree.
    *
    Hunter had ducked between two giant oaks and
tied his horse at the edge of the high brush. He then backtracked
under cover of the scrub until he could emerge near the spot where
he had spotted the spy. He had caught only a glimpse of a hat brim
as he rode by and had calculated the person to be short…either that
or the man was squatting low as he watched.
    Coming out from the thick underbrush,
however, he saw no one as he looked amongst the trees. It appeared
his daylight stalker had moved on.
    Hunter cautiously stepped out onto the
gravel surface of the road, his eyes darting from left to right. No
one was in sight. Perhaps he was