Beneath These Scars (Beneath #4)

I opened my eyes and lifted my gaze to meet his. “In these clothes?”


“Don’t worry about that.” His thumb smoothed over the skin of my arm. “I’ll make sure you’re covered.”

Lucas watched me silently. He and I were both so damn stubborn. I would push and he would push back. But who would give?

For the first time in a long, long time, I could admit to myself that I didn’t want to make all the decisions, didn’t want to have to be so strong. The fight drained out of me.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

Lucas nodded and slid his palm down my arm to lock his fingers with mine. “Good. You’ll like this.”





THE SHELL DRIVE CRUNCHED UNDER the tires as Lucas guided the Aston up what seemed like a mile-long stretch of twists and turns. Huge oaks shaded it from the sun, and a sprawling plantation house, one that could have been a replica of Margaret Mitchell’s Tara, sat at the end.

“What is this?”

“An investment I’m considering.”

“You brought me to look at a multi-million dollar house?” I asked. I looked down at my clothes in horror. “In these?”

Lucas shook his head and drove a few hundred yards past the house before stopping in front of stables that most people would have been happy to live in. “I brought you here to ride. There are plenty of clothes inside. All different sizes, as they’re used to having guests come out for riding parties.”

I surveyed the stables with skepticism. “I’ve never been on a horse before. Ever.”

He flashed a grin at me. “Then I guess you’ll be so busy worrying about staying on that you won’t have time to think about anything else.”

His meaning was obvious. “A plan for an effective distraction.”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s see this place?” I said, pushing the door open and climbing out.

Holy. Wow. There was rich, and then there was rich. Lucas led me past stall after stall constructed of ornately carved dark wood—all empty.

“Horses to fill all of these come with the place?” I asked, intending the question as a joke.

Lucas squeezed my hand, which he’d taken as soon as we’d gotten out of the car. “Yes, actually. They’re a big part of the reason I’m considering buying it.”

My mouth barely stayed closed, saving my jaw from dragging on the floor. I did a quick count of the stalls we’d walked by. “You’re not serious. That’s so much work. I mean, they’re amazing, but damn.”

Lucas’s laugh echoed off the stamped concrete floor and the tall, stained-wood ceilings. “And that’s the beauty of having full-time grooms and stable hands. With this many animals, you really have no choice. It’s in the best interest of the animals, not just the owners.”

If this barn were full, that would be a lot of horses. “Is there a reason they have so many?”

Before he answered my question, we reached a room at the end of the aisle and a boy, probably around eighteen or so, stepped out.

“Welcome back, Mr. Titan.”

Lucas shook his hand. “Good to see you, Chris. Can you tack up two mounts? Titan, and one that would be suitable for a beginner?”

The boy, Chris, looked at me as if sizing me up. He said nothing about my unconventional outfit. “Sure thing. No problem. I’ll go round them up while you two change. Let me know if you need anything else.”

As soon as Chris was gone, I tugged Lucas’s hand. “Seriously? You’re going to ride a horse named after you?”

His laugh rolled free again. “Not exactly. He’s a big beast, named after the Titans, not me. Good mount. He was rehabilitated after they rescued him.”

“Rescued?”

Lucas nodded. “That’s the answer to your question, why there are so many. The current owner has rescued over half of them from bad situations. Some take years to rehabilitate to the point where they can be ridden again.”

Lucas Titan wants to rescue horses. The revelation was . . . not what I expected.

“That’s actually very cool.”

His easy posture stiffened. “It’s not a big deal. I’d buy it even if the barn was full of thoroughbreds and Arabians. Of which there are several. And the thoroughbreds bring home plenty of purses from the races.”

He tried to hide it, but I’d caught that flash of compassion for abused animals. Still, I’d let him pretend he was all about the money if it would bring back the easiness from a few moments ago. Call me crazy, but I thought I might actually be starting to understand this man.

“The sport of kings. Seems appropriate for you.”

His smile flashed again. “Obviously.” Then he jerked his chin toward the room next to the one Chris had come out of. “Let’s get changed.”