The Missing Heir. Jane Toombs
the photo at closer range, and saw the child was a boy. Not Isabel then.
By the time she’d dressed and was descending the stairs, Mari had begun wondering if dapple-gray ponies were ever called Blues. She shook her head. Probably not, since Russ had said his were descended from the huge chargers ridden by knights of old. If only she’d had more time to spend with Russ. How was it possible to miss a man you scarcely knew?
After a breakfast that made her feel she was imposing on Mr. Haskell’s staff, even though Pauline and Diana, the cook, were courteous enough, Mari escaped outside. Her uneasiness undoubtedly came from her own uncertainty—did she belong here or not?—rather than from the staff. But she began to relax a little once she set off to walk down toward the village.
May was definitely cool here on this island near the Straits of Mackinac, where the waters of Lake Huron and Lake Michigan met, and she was glad she’d worn a jacket. With only the clop of horses’ hooves instead of the rush of motor traffic, Mackinac Island seemed not only peaceful, but somehow set back in time. In the gardens she passed, tulips were still in flower, though their season was long over in northern Nevada. Lilac blooms were tightly budded rather than scattering their sweetness into the air.
A passing bicyclist waved as he passed, and she waved back. What a marvelous vacation spot. She wished she could think of it as a vacation. It worried her that Mr. Haskell had decided to send for her instead of first making sure they were related by having blood and DNA tests done right there in Nevada. Why he hadn’t was a question she couldn’t answer.
She passed the Grand Hotel, staring in awe at its unbelievably long and magnificent porch, and came into the downtown area of the village. Water gleamed ahead from what appeared to be a lakeside park. As she started across the street, someone took her arm, holding her back. She turned, startled, and gazed into Russ Simon’s green eyes. Her pulse leaped.
“Mari, is it really you?” he asked.
“Russ!” she cried. “What are you doing here?”
He released her arm. “Checking my Blues. I lease twenty of them to carriage companies on the island. Didn’t I tell you?”
Mari shook her head. “I mean, I knew you leased draft horses, but I didn’t know where.”
One of the numerous passersby jostled Mari, muttering an apology when Russ scowled at him. “Come on, let’s find someplace less crowded. Place is already full of tourists and it’s only May.”
After they were seated at a harborside café, with mugs of coffee in front of them, he raised a questioning eyebrow. “Now you know why I’m here. Your turn.”
Mari told herself to stop staring at him and start thinking. “I’m visiting the island,” she equivocated, not wanting to lie and yet definitely not wanting to tell the whole truth.
Russ offered her his heart-melting smile. “My good luck.”
No, mine, she thought. I wished for a friend and maybe, just maybe, here he is. On this strange island that seemed like another world, Russ was the known, the familiar. She might not decide to confide in him, but at least she now had someone she felt she could talk to if needed.
Russ took another swallow of coffee, trying not to watch Mari. Which was difficult because he enjoyed looking at her so much. Why the devil did her hair have to be molten gold and her eyes like fine sherry? Spying was bad enough, and it was ten times worse because he liked the way she smiled, the way she talked with her hands, the way she moved. Hell, even the way she sipped her coffee. No man in his right mind could avoid being attracted to her.
He couldn’t afford to be, yet at the same time he needed to learn more about her in order to protect Joe Haskell. Since the old man was tough, he’d probably pull through this latest cardiac setback, but he didn’t need any extra stress—such as an impostor on his doorstep.
“Like to go riding around the island?” Russ asked. “I’ll return the favor and find you a mount this time.”
“Oh, yes!”
Damn, how could she seem so open and straightforward? The likelihood of a greedy, scheming heart beating under that attractive exterior was almost a sure bet, no matter how cleverly she concealed it. He knew all about pretty women and how they could fool a man—his ex-wife had taught him well.
Mari didn’t have Denise’s sophistication, nor did she wear designer originals. No doubt because she couldn’t afford them. It’d been obvious that the Crowley ranch house could use some updating. Money was at the bottom of every scheme. He hadn’t met her uncle, the man who’d contacted Joe in the first place, but it stood to reason that Mari had to be in on anything her uncle might be trying to promote.
Russ wished he didn’t feel this odd bond between Mari and himself. It must be because of the horses. Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough. They might be kindred spirits where horses were concerned, but just because she loved them didn’t make her honest—and one Denise in a lifetime was more than enough.
Get to know Mari, yes, but hands off, Simon.
No romancing, no matter how appealing you find her.
“We’ll ride first thing tomorrow morning,” he said. “Right now I’m on my way to take a look at one of my Blues who’s off his feed.”
“Mind if I tag along? I know you told me Lucy is a Blue, but I’d like to see another.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t trust my judgment?”
She slanted him a look. “When diagnosing horse ailments or in telling a Blue from a dapple-gray?”
“I can tell vet-visit-serious from layman-treatable. As for Blues—hey, lady, I’m the local expert, as you’re about to find out. Be careful or you’ll hear more about the breed than you care to know.”
Damn, she was easy to be with. This was only the second time they’d met and he felt as if they’d known each other for years. Had to be the horse connection.
“What’s his name?”
It took him a beat to realize she meant the ailing Blue. “Lancelot—the drivers call him Lance.”
“Do you name them all after King Arthur’s knights?”
“Used every one of them.”
“I suppose you’ll rename Lucy something like Elaine the Fair.”
He shook his head. “Not when she already knows the name you gave her.”
Her smile of approval warmed him.
After they’d been to the stable and found Lance already improving, Russ said, “I’ll walk you back to—where you’re staying.” He’d nearly said Haskell’s and hoped she hadn’t picked up on the hesitation. But why should she suspect Russ Simon was a spy?
He knew some considered spying to be exciting and glamorous. Not him. He hated anything that wasn’t aboveboard.
Mari looked away from him. “I’m not ready to go there just yet. I think I’ll wander around and look at the shops for a while.”
It was his cue to tell her he’d see her tomorrow and bow out, but instead he found himself saying, “Why not let an insider help you avoid the worst of the tourist traps?”
She hesitated a moment before replying, “Well, if you insist.”
As they started back toward the main street, he said, “I’ll buy you the very finest of Mackinac Island’s famous fudge. This way.”
“Why is it famous?”
“Ms. Crowley, you mean to tell me you never heard of Mackinac Island fudge?”
“Mr. Simon, this is a long way from Nevada.”
Yes, he thought, just as a Crowley is a long way from being a Haskell.
Without letting her have a taste in the