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about the house and estate.
    Well, he would think of nothing more than the needs of his family, not act on the burning desire that soared through his veins upon his first sight of her. He had to push away the powerful need to protect her, to rush into the house just to take her in his arms with the promise nothing would happen to her again as long as she was there.
    Adrenaline pumped through him, matching the thundering of Jake’s hooves. How long would she stay this time? A week? A month? If she planned to sell the house and land . . .
    He had no idea of the master’s financial affairs, but there was every possibility he had willed the estate to Monica . . . or maybe due to their estrangement, everything had been left to Miss Jane.
    If either of them wished to wash their hands of their enforced responsibilities, what would become of his family? His mother and sister relied on his salary as they relied on air to breathe. He had to uncover Monica’s agenda sooner rather than later. Having served her father unreservedly for many years, both before and after Monica disappeared, surely she would not expect him to stand by and let her or her sister take his livelihood away without resistance?
    He loved his family. He loved his job.... God, he’d loved Monica once. Not anymore. She’d proved where her heart lies and it wasn’t in the fields and pastures of his beloved countryside. She was a city girl. A damn stage star of all things. What would she ever understand about a man’s need to breathe fresh air, to feel the dirt trodden beneath his feet and revel in washing the muck and oil from his work-worn hands at the end of the day? She’d never understand—and over his dead body would he let her come back from the bright lights and applause of her new life to steal his away.
    If she did, he’d have no idea who he was or where to start again.

Chapter 4
    The path leading to Marksville House came into view and Thomas cantered up the lengthy avenue. He steered Jake to the back of the house, dismounted, and tied him to the old apple tree before ducking through the entranceway into the kitchen.
    Monica sat alone at the pine table and he came to an abrupt halt. She seemed lost in thought as she drew invisible circles on its surface. Her pretty brow was creased and her eyes unblinking. He took this precious moment to watch her. Still dressed in her dark green riding habit, although the buttons about her neck had been loosened, she brought a flash of welcome color against the blackness that now shrouded every inch, mirror, and person in the house. Who was he fooling? It wasn’t the clothes that brought the color, it was her.
    He cleared his throat and she immediately leaped to her feet, her hands hastily smoothing the front of her dress. “You’re back.” Her smile was quick and broad, her eyes shining. “I didn’t know if those ruffians would . . .” She laughed. “What am I saying? I should’ve known you’d be all right.”
    His gaze darted from her dark blue eyes to her neck, to the revealed and alluring glimpse of her collarbones, lower to her covered breasts. God, she’s beautiful. Surprised by her welcome demeanor rather than the loftiness he expected, Thomas stepped farther into the kitchen, forcing his lust into submission. “Why are you sitting alone in here? Where’s that sister of mine? She should have attended you.” He scowled, cursing the tremor in his hands. “Are you hurt?”
    He clenched his fists in a bid to stop from touching her. Every fiber in his body urged him to demand she strip so he could tenderly run his fingers over every inch of skin, checking for bruises, lacerations, anything either of those animals might have done to her.
    Her smile wavered and wariness leaped into her eyes. Had she seen his thoughts through his eyes? Did she know how much he wanted to hold her just to make sure she was real and here?
    She cleared her throat. “Jeannie is busy helping Jane with Mother. I’m perfectly