here long enough to come by quite an earful, I'll warrant! Tell me, sir, is your plantation noted for growing long ears as well as fine horses?"
Garrett continued to grin at her as he helped her to her feet. True to style, in Christie's estimation, he took the opportunity to let his eyes roam freely over her curving form, most apparent when she wore breeches, as now.
"Not to mention eyes that work overtime," huffed Christie. "Aren't you afraid you'll come by eye strain?"
"Not when there's something worth straining them over," Garrett answered. His green gaze continued its work.
Christie looked up at him with murder in her own eyes, but decided to hold her tongue. Another fencing match with him simply wasn't on her calendar for today. "If you will excuse me, Garrett, I'll remove myself and relieve you of that strain this day. I have a need to . . . work on a new hair style." She pushed past him and her eyes caught sight of the dead rattler. "I thank you for protecting me from the viper—at least, the one that slithers on the ground." With this she raised her chin a notch and made her way out of the stable as Garrett's familiar mocking laughter followed her up the path.
The morning of Christie's eighteenth birthday dawned in much the same manner as those of the previous two or three weeks—bright, warm and sunny. In fact, there had been little rain for the past month, and when Christie remarked during breakfast that the sky was disappointingly cloudless and that they could use some rain for the crops, Charles laughed heartily.
"Father, what on earth strikes you as humorous? Having a shortage of rain is a serious matter, and again today, there's none in sight," retorted Christie with a slight frown.
"Oh, darlin', it's not the rain shortage I'm laughing at. It's your delightful view of it— Ah, good morning, Garrett! I wasn't aware it was so late," said Charles, checking his gold pocket watch. "Won't you sit and join us while I finish my tea? Or perhaps you haven't yet breakfasted—?"
"Thank you," replied Garrett as he took a seat, "however, I had an excellent breakfast served me at my cottage. But don't let me hurry you. I don't mind waiting."
His face registered no particular expression as he glanced in Christie's direction and nodded a greeting, and Christie felt a brief surge of relief that for once, he wasn't aiming his customary mocking aspect in her direction, but she felt herself annoyed at what she regarded as Garrett's intrusion. She and Charles had been dining alone this morning because she had planned it that way. She had had precious little time alone with her father lately, and she had hoped for at least this brief session in private with him on this landmark day in her life. Ignoring Garrett entirely, she went back to her conversation with Charles.
"Father, you were saying about my view of there being no rain again today?"
"Ah, yes, darlin'. What I found humorous about your concern! Any other young woman, upon rising on the morning of her eighteenth birthday ball and finding a cloudless sky would be tickled pink that there would be no rain coming to spoil the celebration! But what does my little individualist say? That we could use some rain for the crops!"
Charles began to chuckle warmly all over again. "Do you believe it, Garrett?" He laughed. "The lass is put out because it won't rain today! Ah, Christie, you're a priceless treasure to give my old heart joy!"
Christie looked up from her hot chocolate to discover Garrett Randall looking at her with the queerest expression on his face, but in a fraction of time, his eyes caught her glance and they shuttered, rendering his face once again unreadable.
"Well, Father," she said, "you've long known my opinion of the sort of vanity you cite, which is so unfortunately possessed by a great many men and women we've met. At best, it precludes clear thinking; at worst, it renders the person owning it selfish and boring to be with. And, besides, dear Father,"
Garrett continued to grin at her as he helped her to her feet. True to style, in Christie's estimation, he took the opportunity to let his eyes roam freely over her curving form, most apparent when she wore breeches, as now.
"Not to mention eyes that work overtime," huffed Christie. "Aren't you afraid you'll come by eye strain?"
"Not when there's something worth straining them over," Garrett answered. His green gaze continued its work.
Christie looked up at him with murder in her own eyes, but decided to hold her tongue. Another fencing match with him simply wasn't on her calendar for today. "If you will excuse me, Garrett, I'll remove myself and relieve you of that strain this day. I have a need to . . . work on a new hair style." She pushed past him and her eyes caught sight of the dead rattler. "I thank you for protecting me from the viper—at least, the one that slithers on the ground." With this she raised her chin a notch and made her way out of the stable as Garrett's familiar mocking laughter followed her up the path.
The morning of Christie's eighteenth birthday dawned in much the same manner as those of the previous two or three weeks—bright, warm and sunny. In fact, there had been little rain for the past month, and when Christie remarked during breakfast that the sky was disappointingly cloudless and that they could use some rain for the crops, Charles laughed heartily.
"Father, what on earth strikes you as humorous? Having a shortage of rain is a serious matter, and again today, there's none in sight," retorted Christie with a slight frown.
"Oh, darlin', it's not the rain shortage I'm laughing at. It's your delightful view of it— Ah, good morning, Garrett! I wasn't aware it was so late," said Charles, checking his gold pocket watch. "Won't you sit and join us while I finish my tea? Or perhaps you haven't yet breakfasted—?"
"Thank you," replied Garrett as he took a seat, "however, I had an excellent breakfast served me at my cottage. But don't let me hurry you. I don't mind waiting."
His face registered no particular expression as he glanced in Christie's direction and nodded a greeting, and Christie felt a brief surge of relief that for once, he wasn't aiming his customary mocking aspect in her direction, but she felt herself annoyed at what she regarded as Garrett's intrusion. She and Charles had been dining alone this morning because she had planned it that way. She had had precious little time alone with her father lately, and she had hoped for at least this brief session in private with him on this landmark day in her life. Ignoring Garrett entirely, she went back to her conversation with Charles.
"Father, you were saying about my view of there being no rain again today?"
"Ah, yes, darlin'. What I found humorous about your concern! Any other young woman, upon rising on the morning of her eighteenth birthday ball and finding a cloudless sky would be tickled pink that there would be no rain coming to spoil the celebration! But what does my little individualist say? That we could use some rain for the crops!"
Charles began to chuckle warmly all over again. "Do you believe it, Garrett?" He laughed. "The lass is put out because it won't rain today! Ah, Christie, you're a priceless treasure to give my old heart joy!"
Christie looked up from her hot chocolate to discover Garrett Randall looking at her with the queerest expression on his face, but in a fraction of time, his eyes caught her glance and they shuttered, rendering his face once again unreadable.
"Well, Father," she said, "you've long known my opinion of the sort of vanity you cite, which is so unfortunately possessed by a great many men and women we've met. At best, it precludes clear thinking; at worst, it renders the person owning it selfish and boring to be with. And, besides, dear Father,"
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