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servants?” He smiled and folded his arms across his chest.
    She glanced at Bashshar. “I’m here to try to heal your horse.” Her aloof expression faded to one of compassion. “I need to know the truth about the accident.” Her voice softened and there was no trace of her earlier rancor.
    Dalton studied her. As she gazed at the stallion, goodness illuminated her face. When she looked like that, he felt he could trust her completely.
    “It was late afternoon,” he began. “I was returning from exercising Bashshar, when a shot rang out from the nearby gaming fields. We were almost on top of the man when the second gun fired—the shot that struck Bashshar.”
    “Did you see the shooter?”
    “No, he was too well hidden in the hedgerow.”
    “Then why do you think the shooter was a man?”
    Surprised, Dalton hesitated. “The idea that it might be a woman never crossed my mind.”
    Alicia’s eyes flashed. “Really?” Her lips twitched. “You’ve never given a woman reason to shoot at you?”
    He chuckled. “You bring up an interesting point.”
    Alicia’s expression turned serious. “Were you injured, too?”
    “No.”
    Alicia touched the horse’s cheek. “Since the incident, you haven’t found out any more about the shooter?”
    “The authorities are still examining the matter.”
    She nodded, as though satisfied for the moment. “I believe I understand Bashshar’s fear.” She stroked the length of the animal’s nose with a feather touch.
    Dalton studied her delicate hands. For an instant, he could almost imagine those cool, soft, healing fingers upon his brow. “What is it you do? Do you see into the animal’s mind?”
    She shook her head, her gaze fixed on the horse. “No. I can’t see things. I only sense things. Usually only fragments. But with Bashshar, I felt his panic before I opened the stall door and saw him.” Her eyes brightened. “I also sensed that he wanted me to help him.”
    Bashshar was accepting her more readily than Dalton thought possible. What was there about this young woman that filled him with hope? Maybe he only wanted to believe that Bashshar might be saved? “How do you heal the animals?”
    The question caused her to turn and smile at Dalton. How lovely she looked when she smiled. Or was it that she seemed, for the first time, to be at ease with him?
    “It’s quite natural, really.” Her eyes shone. “First, I must gain their trust. Although this takes time, I begin by filling my mind with a sense of peace. Perhaps the animal senses that if I’m serene, then I won’t harm it.” Her cheeks brightened with a pink tinge, as if she expected he might ridicule her explanation.
    Instead, Dalton was enthralled. “Who taught you this skill?”
    “My grandfather taught me about horses and their training.”
    “Your mother’s father?”
    “Yes, the earl of Longworth.”
    “I’ve heard of him,” Dalton said, amazed that he hadn’t made the connection between Alicia and her well-known grandfather.
    She smiled when she recognized his admiration. “My grandfather built Marston Heath on land he had inherited from his father. Grandfather was an expert horseman, who had developed a fine stable of racing stock before he died.”
    Dalton felt overwhelmed with curiosity. He wanted to know everything about her. “What did he teach you about horses?”
    She chuckled. “It would take months to answer that question.” She glanced at Bashshar, her face becoming serious. “My grandfather had translated and studied the work of Xenophon, the Greek, whosetraining of horses in the third century, B.C., advocated kindness rather than cruelty.” Her eyes sparkled with the memory. “My grandfather taught me Xenophon’s techniques, which I’ve used with success on most animals.” She brought her gaze back to his and smiled faintly. “I think you would have liked my grandfather, but he died six years ago.”
    “I would have considered meeting him a privilege,” Dalton