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the next.
    Next summer they’d have at least three more mounts. Eden smiled as she worked her way from stall to stall. She wasn’t going to question whether there would be a Camp Liberty next summer. There would be, and she’d be part of it. A real part.
    She realized that she’d brought little with her other than money and a flair for horses. It was Candy who had the training, Candy who had had the three younger sisters and a family that had possessed more tradition than money. Unlike Eden, Candy had always known she would have to earn her own way and had prepared for it. But Eden was a quick learner. By Camp Liberty’s second season, she would be a partner in more than name.
    Her ambition was already spiraling upward. In a few years, Camp Liberty would be renowned for its equestrian program. The name
Carlbough
would be respected again. There might even come a time when her Philadelphia contemporaries would send their children to her. The irony of it pleased her.
    After the fifth apple had been devoured, Eden moved to the last stall. Here was Patience, a sweet-tempered, aging mare who would tolerate any kind of ineptitude in a rider as long as she received affection. Sympathetic to old bones and muscles, Eden often spent an extra hour rubbing the mare down with liniment.
    â€œHere you are, sweetheart.” As the horse gnawed the apple, Eden lifted each hoof for inspection. “A pretty sketchy job,” she mumbled before drawing a hoof pick out of her back pocket. “Let’s see, wasn’t it little Marcie who rode you last? I suppose this means we have to have a discussion on responsibility.” With a sigh, Eden switched to another hoof. “I hate discussions on responsibility. Especially when I’m giving them.” Patience snorted sympathetically. “Well, I can’t leave all the dirty work to Candy, can I? In any case, I don’t think Marcie meant to be inconsiderate. She’s still a bit nervous around horses. We’ll have to show her what a nice lady you are. There. Want a rubdown?” After sticking the pick back in her pocket, Eden rested her cheek against the mare’s neck. “Oh, me too, Patience. A nice long massage with some scented oil. You can just lie there with your eyes closed while all the kinks are worked out, then your skin feels so soft, your muscles so supple.” With a quick laugh, Eden drew away. “Well, since you can’t oblige me, I’ll oblige you. Just let me get the liniment.”
    Giving the mare a final pat, she turned. Her breath caught on a gasp.
    Chase Elliot leaned against the open stall door. Shadows fell across his face, deepening its hollows. In the dim light, his eyes were like sea foam. She would have taken a step backward in retreat, but the mare blocked her way. He smiled at her predicament.
    That triggered her pride. She could be grateful for that. It had thrown her that, in the shadowed light, he was even more attractive, more . . . compelling than he had been in the sun. Not handsome, she amended quickly. Certainly not in the smooth, conventional sense, the sense she had always gauged men’s looks by before. Everything about him was fundamental. Not simple, she thought. No, not simple, but basic. Basic, like his kiss that morning. Warmth prickled along her skin.
    â€œI’d be happy to help you with the massage.” He smiled again. “Yours, or the mare’s.”
    â€œNo, thank you.” She became aware that she was even more disheveled than she had been at their first meeting, and that she smelled, all too obviously, of horse. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Elliot?”
    He liked her style, Chase decided. She might be standing in a stall that could use a bit of cleaning, but she was still the lady of the drawing room. “You’ve got a good stock here. A bit on the mature side, but solid.”
    Eden had to ward off a surge of pleasure. His