The Rich Boy. Leah ValeЧитать онлайн книгу.
Big House.
The path was lit with torches until she reached the source of the honeysuckle smell—an arbor loaded with buff-yellow flowers that looked pale white in the darkness. The sweet scent was heady within the arbor, and she emerged on the other side more than a little light-headed. Fortunately, the bright, perfect full moon took up the job of lighting her way.
The long, low stable wasn’t far from the arbor, and was probably beat-out in the stink department. Besides, she doubted the quality horses Alex owned would ever dream of fouling the air.
Her clicking high heels seemed abnormally loud on the brick path as she neared the white, sliding double doors, so she started tiptoeing as best she could. The interior of the stable was dark, but the moonlight shining through the small windows in the miniature dome topping the stable, which mimicked the large dome in the Big House’s foyer, was strong enough that faint light slipped out from beneath the doors.
She was about ready to test her Pilates core strength and shove one of the large doors open, when she realized a small, regular door had been built into one of them. She quietly lifted the latch on it, eased the door open and stepped through. She quickly closed the door behind her as silently as she could. She didn’t want to alert Alex to her presence and give him the chance to slip out another way before she could find him.
Thanks to the moonlight streaming down from above, Madeline could see that the stable had a wide, center aisle, high open beams and stalls lining both sides. A tack room, its lights off, lay to the right of this set of doors. Another set of doors stood at the opposite end and had been left open a couple of feet.
Everything was white and pristine and had the most wonderful earthy smell. Whether from the hay or the horses, she didn’t know, having zero experience with either.
A deep murmuring came from the first stall on her left, and Madeline tiptoed toward the enclosure, which would look like a prison cell if they’d built it with more iron bars than wood paneling instead of the other way around. She peeked through the bars and froze.
Bathed in moonlight fractured by similar bars on a high window opposite her stood Alexander McCoy, resting his forehead between the eyes of a dark-colored horse as powerfully beautiful as he was.
His black bow tie hanging loose around his neck and his tuxedo jacket open, Alex stroked the horse’s broad cheek. “I’d give anything if someone could tell me how to handle this.” The torment in his whispered plea was plain and piercing.
Alex was hurting. Madeline’s shift in focus was as absolute as it was unexpected. She herself hadn’t seen much sign of him mourning for Marcus, so she’d thought he was fine—as fine as he could be considering his loss. Had he simply been hiding his pain?
He said, “You got any ideas, big guy?”
The horse actually made a soft rumbling sound that reminded Madeline of a giant cat’s purr.
“I know, I know.” Alex soothed the magnificent animal. “You’d help if you could. I just wish I didn’t feel so much like running away.”
What? Alex run away? More than capable of solving problems, he was the kind of guy to run to them, not away.
He sighed, tracing a path down the horse’s long face with the tip of his forefinger. “I simply don’t know who I am anymore.”
Madeline’s heart lodged firmly in her throat and her eyes filled with tears. Suddenly the last thing on her mind was digging up dirt on this most privileged of the privileged.
All she wanted to do was comfort Alexander McCoy.
Chapter Two
“Alex.”
Madeline’s voice cracked on his name, but she couldn’t help it.
Both the big man and the big horse jerked at the sound of her voice, then Alex wheeled toward her. His eyes narrowed and he stared at her as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Or rather who.
“You?” His growled question confirmed her suspicion. “What are you doing here?”
Madeline moved to the open stall door. “Are you okay?”
“I said, what are you doing here?” The undercurrent of pain was clear in his voice and seemed to reach out, grab hold of her heart and squeeze.
She put a hand on the stall door to steady herself. “Searching for you.”
He made a disparaging noise. “Just what I need.” He returned his attention to his horse, stroking a hand down its cheek. The horse shifted into a stripe of moonlight and the rich brown tones of its glossy coat virtually glowed.
The squeeze on her heart intensified. She scrabbled for safe ground. “What’s its name?”
Alex jerked his gaze to hers. “What?”
She gestured to the sleek animal. “Your horse. What’s its name?”
He straightened the narrow leather halter where it encircled the horse’s nose. “It is a stallion, and he raced under the name Most Excellent Endeavor, but his stable name is Duke.” Alex’s voice, demeanor, everything altered—relaxed—as he spoke of his horse.
Thank goodness some things hadn’t changed. His horses had always been so special to him, had been his escape from the stresses of being who he was. A McCoy.
She smiled. “He looks like a Duke. I bet he was a Most Excellent Endeavor for you, also. But aren’t stallions dangerous?”
He scoffed and let her know she’d just revealed her ignorance of horses. “Not if they’re decently trained. And this guy is well past his frisky days. Mostly.”
“Oh. Sorry. This is the closest I’ve ever been to one. When I was growing up my mother wanted me to take riding lessons to help ‘further my poise’ during my pageant training days, but my dad thought learning to play golf would serve me better later in life.” As some corporate executive or politician’s wife. Either would give her a status that would reflect well on him.
The pain of always being molded into something had dulled over the years, but not nearly enough for her to forget.
She sensed his stare. “Has it?”
She raised her chin. “Not lately.”
His skepticism filled the air between them and raised her ire. “I have no intention of settling for spending my life playing golf and hanging off some rich boy’s arm.”
To shift the conversation away from her and to keep him at ease, she gestured to the horse again. “So he’s a thoroughbred?”
“One of the finest. But like I said, his racing days are over. Now he occasionally gets to be a stud, and when he’s not entertaining a special lady, he’s my favorite saddle horse.”
For some ridiculous reason Madeline’s cheeks heated. If only she hadn’t thought of Alex and the horse as magnificent beasts…She cleared her throat, forcing herself to instead think of what she’d heard when she’d first found him. “Alex, what did you mean when you said you didn’t know who—”
“Look, Maddy.” He turned toward her, in a flash once again stiff and agitated. “No offense, but you are—without a doubt—the last person I want to talk to right now.”
The air left her lungs in a rush and her fingers curled against the smooth, whitewashed wood of the stall door. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized we’d ended things that badly.”
His sigh reverberated in the stall. Straw crunched as he took a step toward her. “It’s not because of that—We didn’t end badly. At least, I didn’t think so.”
Of course he wouldn’t. He was the one who’d stopped calling. But she’d been in the process of moving to start her new job at Entertainment This Evening in L.A., so she’d told herself their breakup was for