like hundreds at times," she answered. "Our income depends on our horses. We raise them and sell them. We really never have more than sixty or seventy, I suppose, and sometimes as few as thirty. Cole brings in wild mustangs every now and then. We also have cattle, of course, but not nearly the number Travis thinks we should have."
"And Travis is the youngest brother?"
She thought it was terribly sweet of him to try to keep everyone straight in his mind.
"Yes, he's the youngest brother."
"How old was he when you were born?"
She gave him a curious look. "He was nine, going on ten. Why do you ask?" He shrugged. "I just wondered," he replied. "Does Travis look like Douglas, or does he resemble you and Cole?"
"He looks like… Travis. You ask a lot of questions, Harrison."
"I do?" he replied for lack of anything better to say.
She nodded. "What do you think of my home?"
He turned to look at the landscape once again before answering her. Simply telling her that her valley was beautiful wouldn't adequately describe the feeling the wondrous area gave him. He didn't understand why it was so important for him to find the right words, but itwas important somehow, and he was determined to be as exact as possible. Paradise deserved more than a moment's reflection. It demanded recognition.
And so he ended up speaking from his heart. "Your land reminds me of Scotland, and that, Mary Rose, is the highest praise a Highlander can give."
She smiled with pleasure. The look in Harrison's eyes indicated his sincerity. She suddenly felt like sighing again. Dear heavens, how she liked this gentle man.
She leaned to the side of her saddle so she could get a little closer to him. "Do you know what I think?" she whispered.
He leaned toward her. "No," he whispered back. "What do you think?"
"You and I are very much alike."
He was instantly appalled. She was out of her mind if she believed they were anything alike. Why, they were complete opposites in his estimation. He'd already figured out she was all emotion. He sure as hell wasn't. He rarely let anyone know what he was thinking or feeling. He was also extremely methodical in everything he undertook. He hated surprises; in his line of work they could be deadly, and so he carefully thought out every plan of action before he made any decisions. He demanded order in his life, and from what he'd heard about Mary Rose, he could only conclude that she thrived on chaos. She was also sweet-tempered, terribly naive, and openly hospitable to strangers. And trust—good God Almighty, the
woman seemed to trust everyone she met. It hadn't taken her more than five minutes to make the decision to take him home with her. For all she knew, he could have been a cold-blooded killer. Oh, no, they weren't anything alike. He didn't trust anyone. He was a cynic by nature and by profession. She couldn't possibly understand how she'd misjudged him, however, because she didn't know anything about him. She had innocently accepted what he had told her, and as long as he continued to pretend to be an unsophisticated city boy who wore a gun only because he thought he was supposed to, then she was going to continue to believe they really were soul mates.
"Don't you wonder why I think we're alike?" she asked.
He braced himself. "Why?"
"You look at things the same way I do," she answered. "Do quit frowning, Harrison. I haven't insulted you."
The hell she hadn't. "No, of course not," he agreed. "Exactly how do we look at things?"
"You see with your heart."
"I learned a long time ago to put logic and reason above emotion," he began. "My philosophy of life is really very simple."
"And what might your philosophy be?"
"First with the mind, then with the heart."
She wasn't impressed. "So you never allow yourself to just… feel? You have to think about it first?"
"Of course," he agreed. He was pleased she understood. She would do well to follow his rule, he thought.
"How exact you are, Harrison."
He smiled.
"And Travis is the youngest brother?"
She thought it was terribly sweet of him to try to keep everyone straight in his mind.
"Yes, he's the youngest brother."
"How old was he when you were born?"
She gave him a curious look. "He was nine, going on ten. Why do you ask?" He shrugged. "I just wondered," he replied. "Does Travis look like Douglas, or does he resemble you and Cole?"
"He looks like… Travis. You ask a lot of questions, Harrison."
"I do?" he replied for lack of anything better to say.
She nodded. "What do you think of my home?"
He turned to look at the landscape once again before answering her. Simply telling her that her valley was beautiful wouldn't adequately describe the feeling the wondrous area gave him. He didn't understand why it was so important for him to find the right words, but itwas important somehow, and he was determined to be as exact as possible. Paradise deserved more than a moment's reflection. It demanded recognition.
And so he ended up speaking from his heart. "Your land reminds me of Scotland, and that, Mary Rose, is the highest praise a Highlander can give."
She smiled with pleasure. The look in Harrison's eyes indicated his sincerity. She suddenly felt like sighing again. Dear heavens, how she liked this gentle man.
She leaned to the side of her saddle so she could get a little closer to him. "Do you know what I think?" she whispered.
He leaned toward her. "No," he whispered back. "What do you think?"
"You and I are very much alike."
He was instantly appalled. She was out of her mind if she believed they were anything alike. Why, they were complete opposites in his estimation. He'd already figured out she was all emotion. He sure as hell wasn't. He rarely let anyone know what he was thinking or feeling. He was also extremely methodical in everything he undertook. He hated surprises; in his line of work they could be deadly, and so he carefully thought out every plan of action before he made any decisions. He demanded order in his life, and from what he'd heard about Mary Rose, he could only conclude that she thrived on chaos. She was also sweet-tempered, terribly naive, and openly hospitable to strangers. And trust—good God Almighty, the
woman seemed to trust everyone she met. It hadn't taken her more than five minutes to make the decision to take him home with her. For all she knew, he could have been a cold-blooded killer. Oh, no, they weren't anything alike. He didn't trust anyone. He was a cynic by nature and by profession. She couldn't possibly understand how she'd misjudged him, however, because she didn't know anything about him. She had innocently accepted what he had told her, and as long as he continued to pretend to be an unsophisticated city boy who wore a gun only because he thought he was supposed to, then she was going to continue to believe they really were soul mates.
"Don't you wonder why I think we're alike?" she asked.
He braced himself. "Why?"
"You look at things the same way I do," she answered. "Do quit frowning, Harrison. I haven't insulted you."
The hell she hadn't. "No, of course not," he agreed. "Exactly how do we look at things?"
"You see with your heart."
"I learned a long time ago to put logic and reason above emotion," he began. "My philosophy of life is really very simple."
"And what might your philosophy be?"
"First with the mind, then with the heart."
She wasn't impressed. "So you never allow yourself to just… feel? You have to think about it first?"
"Of course," he agreed. He was pleased she understood. She would do well to follow his rule, he thought.
"How exact you are, Harrison."
He smiled.
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