The Last Honest Woman by Nora Roberts Read Free Book Online

four years. A young, wealthy widow. Though he was willing to concede that she took motherhood seriously, that hardly answered the question. Two boys under ten didn't make up for male companionship.
    For some reason, she seemed to want him to take her little farm and her domesticity at face value. His mouth twisted in a grimace and he downed the rest of the coffee. He took nothing at face value. Particularly not women.
    Then he saw her. She came out of a little shed and closed the door carefully behind her. Her hair caught the sunlight as she combed her fingers through it and just stood there. Her coat was bundled up to her chin and stopped just short of her hips, where slim jeans ran down and tucked into scarred boots.
    Was she posing? he thought as a rush of arousal pushed, unwanted, into his system. Did she know he was there, watching as she stood with her face lifted to the sun and a quiet smile on her face? But she never glanced toward the house. She never turned. Swinging the bucket she carried, she walked across the frozen ground to the barn.
    Abby had always liked the feel and scents of a barn, especially in the morning, when the animals were just stirring from sleep. The lights was dim, the air a bit musty. She heard the purring of the barn cats as they woke for breakfast. After setting the bucket beside the door, she switched on the lights and began her morning routine.
    "Hello, baby." Opening the first stall, she stepped inside to check the chestnut mare, which was nearly ready to foal. "I know, you feel fat and ugly." She chuckled as the mare blew into her hand. "I've felt that way a couple times myself." Gently, expertly, she ran her hands along the mare's belly. The mare's muscles quivered, then relaxed as Abby murmured to her. "In a week or two it'll all be over, then you'll have such a pretty baby. You know Mr. Jorgensen's interested in buying your foal." With a sigh, she rested her cheek against the mare's neck. "Why does that make me feel like a slave trader?"
    "First sale?"
    She hadn't heard Dylan come in. She turned slowly, one arm still slung around the mare's neck. He'd shaved, and though his face was smooth now, and still attractive, it seemed no kinder to her than before. "Yeah. Up until now I've just been buying and setting up."
    He stepped inside to get a closer look. The mare was beautiful, strong and full-bodied in the way of Morgans, with alert eyes and a glossy coat. "You pick this mare out?"
    "Eve. I call her Eve because she's the first of my breeders. She was just weaned when I got her at auction. Mr. Petrie said to bid on her, so I bid."
    "Looks like your Petrie knows his horseflesh. I'd say this little lady's going to give you plenty of foals. Plan to breed her back?"
    "That's the idea." Eve nuzzled into her shoulder. "It doesn't seem fair."
    "That's what she's built for." It had been a long time since he'd been around horses. He'd forgotten how good a barn could smell, how soothing it could be to work around and with animals. Maybe people had consumed him for too long. The mare shifted. Abby shifted with her and brushed against him. The contact was anything but soothing. "How many do you have?"
    Her mind, usually so orderly, was blank. "How many?"
    "Horses."
    "Oh." She was being ridiculous, reacting as though she'd never touched a man before. "Eight—the stallion, two mares already bred and two we'll breed in the spring, three geldings for riding." The last was a luxury she'd never regretted. "Not exactly the big leagues," Abby went on, relaxing again.
    "Four mares and a decent stallion, properly managed, sounds like a pretty good start to me."
    "That's what I've got." She scratched the mare between the ears. "A start."
    He watched her reach for a halter. "What are you doing?"
    "They need to go out in the paddock while I clean the stalls."
    "You? Alone?"
    She went to the next stall to repeat the process on a second mare. "Mr. Petrie comes by three times a week to help out, but he's down with