Free Calder Promise by Janet Dailey Page A

ranch horses over a homemade jump, Laura? You couldn’t have been much more than fourteen or fifteen. Your grandfather almost had apoplexy. He and your mother were positively furious with me when I went out and bought you a show jumper, then hired a riding instructor.”
    “Actually I don’t think my mother minded all that much. I think she was just relieved that I hadn’t decided to climb on the back of a Brahma bull the way Trey did at a local rodeo.” Turning her attention to Sebastian, she said, “Over the years, my brother and I have managed to contribute more than a few gray hairs to our mother’s head. We each have a bit of the daredevil in us.”
    “Really,” Sebastian murmured, eyes dancing. “I never would have guessed that about you.”
    “The truth is out, then.” A knowing smile curved her mouth as she brimmed with the certainty that he was remembering when she had ventured nude into the Trevi Fountain.
    With all her attention wrapped up in Sebastian, Laura never noticed the tall dark-haired man approaching their table until he stopped by her chair. “I was told at the desk I could find you in here.”
    She looked up with a start, her glance quickly taking in the man’s familiar features, full of rough and raw masculinity. “Boone,” she said in surprise that quickly gave way to pleasure. “Your father must have given you my message.”
    “He did.” He flashed her a broad smile. “Rather than call you back, I decided to come over myself and find out if you can be ready about eight for our big night on the town.” Without waiting to be asked, he pulled up a vacant chair and sat down at the table.
    “Eight o’clock will be perfect,” Laura replied.
    As the tardy waiter hurried over to their table, Tara inquired, “Would you like some tea, Boone?”
    “No, thanks.” He dismissed the waiter with a curt shake of his head. “The only tea I drink is the kind we serve in Texas—sweet and on ice.” His glance drifted to Sebastian, as if only then taking notice of his presence.
    “You remember Sebastian Dunshill, don’t you, Boone?” Tara said, supplying the name on the off chance he had forgotten it. “We met at the contessa’s party in Rome.”
    “I remember,” he said and acknowledged him with a brief nod that was neither friendly nor unfriendly.
    “Sebastian just brought us an invitation to spend the weekend at Crawford Hall,” Laura explained.
    “Are you going?” Boone asked and continued without waiting for her answer. “I was going to suggest we fly up to Newmarket and take in a horse race.”
    “I wish I’d known.” Laura gave him a look of regret, tempered with a smile. “But Tara and I can hardly pass up the chance to have a firsthand look at the portrait of Lady Crawford that hangs in the hall. She has been the subject of much speculation in our family for too many years.”
    Boone lounged back in the chair, hooking an arm over the corner of its backrest. “This is the first time I’ve ever been turned down in favor of a painting.” But his broad Texas smile didn’t reveal any signs of rejection. “Now you’ve got me curious about it. It must be something special.”
    “We think it will be,” Tara replied. “Which is why we are so anxious to see it.”
    “When are you leaving?” Boone divided his glance between Laura and Tara. On the surface, the tone of his question seemed to be one of idle curiosity, but his attention to their answer was a bit too sharp.
    “Actually”—it was Sebastian who spoke up first—“they are expected for dinner tomorrow evening. I was about to suggest making a leisurely afternoon drive of it. I thought I could pick you up around two,” he said to Laura, “stop for tea along the way, and still arrive in ample time for dinner.”
    “I have a better idea.” Boone’s broad smile never wavered as he pinned his gaze on Sebastian, the subtle challenge in it obvious to everyone. “I’ll take them instead. It’ll give me a