Her Tycoon to Tame (19 page)

Had the mare escaped? Hannah broke into a run, stopping when she realized the pen was empty. Heart racing, she scanned the shadows between the puddles of light cast by the lampposts, but she didn't see the horse.

Sam.
Had he snuck down here even after this morning's fiasco? The sinking feeling in her stomach told her Sam and Phoenix were together. She dug her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed Wyatt.

“Jacobs.” Sleep graveled his voice, sending a thrill through her—one she wished she could ignore.

“Is Sam there?”

“Hannah, it's one in the morning.”

“Wyatt, the bay mare is missing. Please check to see if Sam is in the house.”

He cursed. Then she heard the swish of sheets and pictured them sliding over his skin. “His bed and suite are empty. Damn it. This morning Sam told me he wanted to leave the farm. I didn't take him seriously.”

A chill that had nothing to do with the cool night temperatures shuddered over her. “Check the rest of the house. If he's not there, call the sheriff and get him to issue a Silver Alert. I'll get Jeremiah to help me search the grounds.”

Maybe Sam had taken Phoenix to the indoor arena to work her. Hannah slid open the heavy door and flipped on the lights, but the cavernous space was empty. No Sam. No Phoenix. No indications they'd been there recently. She sprinted through each building, ending up at FYC's barn, checking to see if Sam had visited the foals. He wasn't with them, either.

A sound made her turn. Her hopes fell when she spotted the security guard. “Jeremiah, have you seen Sam or the new bay rescue mare?”

“No, Miss Hannah. It's been real quiet tonight.”

Her heart bumped its way up her throat. “Get into your truck and look for either of them, please. Let me know if you see anything—anything at all—out of the ordinary.”

What felt like an aeon later, Hannah's fear turned into full-blown panic when she discovered an empty saddle rack in the tack room. She heard Jeremiah's truck in the driveway and ran outside. Wyatt's Mercedes skidded to a halt right behind him.

“Did you see anything?” she asked the security guard.

“Gate's open to the back pasture,” Jeremiah said. “No sign of Sam or the mare as far as my spotlight could see.”

The back pasture bordered the river. “There's a saddle missing. I think Sam has taken Phoenix and run away.”

Wyatt's face looked pale and drawn in the murky moonlight.
His hair was a rumpled mess. “We'll take a truck and go after him.”

“We can't. The terrain is too rough in that pasture, and there's no road.” There was only one option, and it terrified her. “I'll saddle up a horse and see if I can find him.”

“You haven't ridden since your mother died,” Wyatt pointed out. “You don't have the experience. Let the sheriff's team lead the search.”

“It'll be hours before they can assemble a team of riders and truck the horses here. It's too cold to wait.”

“I'll call the chopper pilot.”

“A helicopter might spook the mare. Wyatt, I know this property better than anyone. My mother and I used to ride the trails, and I still hike them. If anyone can find Sam, it'll be me.”

Wyatt's expression turned even more determined. “I'll go with you.”

“Two inexperienced horsemen won't be better than one.”

“You're a liability out there alone in the dark. If something happened, no one would know where to look for you and we'd have two casualties instead of one. I'm going.”

The stubborn set of his jaw warned her not to waste more time arguing. “Jeremiah, round up anyone who can help.”

She turned to Wyatt. “A couple of the rescue horses are docile and trail safe. We use them with the most inexperienced FYC students. We should be okay.”

Hannah hurriedly saddled the horses. Because of her experience with helping FYC's students, preparations went too quickly and yet far too slowly when every minute counted. She handed Wyatt a headlamp. “Put the elasticized band around your helmet.”

Dread crawled across her skin like an army of ants as she released the crossties and handed one set of reins to Wyatt.

“Wyatt, you don't have to go with me. You can stay here and talk to the sheriff. Fill them in on Sam's condition and show them the topographical maps.”

“To paraphrase you, I can't do anything else. Let's go.”

She stuck a foot in the stirrup and swung herself into the saddle. She'd forgotten how dizzyingly high being on horseback felt. Her legs trembled wildly as she placed her feet in the irons and tried to get her bearings. Fortunately the placid gelding didn't seem to mind her agitation. “Ready?”

Wyatt sat in the saddle, his carriage every bit as perfect as she'd once suspected it might be. “Let's go.”

She urged her mount out of the brightly lit barn and down the dark driveway toward the open gate. Once they entered the fence and left the lampposts behind, they had only the moonlight and the thin beams from their helmet lights to guide them.

The urge to gallop after Sam thundered through her, but the darkness, the uneven ground and her rusty riding skills kept her at a safer, albeit slower, more frustrating pace. She tried to focus on the basics and could practically hear her mother's voice.
Heels down. Back straight. Hands steady. Eyes ahead. Trust your horse, Hannah.

“If Sam gets hurt, I hold you responsible.” Wyatt's voice low and scalpel-sharp, sliced through her. “If you hadn't encouraged him to work with the mare behind my back in a selfish attempt to weasel funding out of me for your damned nags, he never would have pulled this foolish stunt.”

Hannah flinched. The truth of his words stung like the lash of a bullwhip. “I was trying to help him.”

“You were trying to help yourself. If we find him—”

“When,” she corrected and prayed they would find Sam before it was too late. “
When
we find him you're fired. I want you and your horses off the premises immediately. Other than cleaning out your desk, I don't want you anywhere on my property.”

Hannah gasped, then gulped. Wyatt's decision was nothing less than she deserved. She'd known the risk going in and acted anyway. Nellie had always accused her of having tunnel vision where her horses were concerned.

They rode in tense silence, the cold humid air penetrating Hannah's clothing and chilling her to the bone. She tried not to think of what she'd do, where she'd go or if she could find another job breeding horses in the current economy. She had to focus on finding Sam. She'd worry about her future later.

“Look,” Wyatt's voice pulled her out of her misery. “There's a trail through the dew. That's how I tracked you to the boathouse.”

The boathouse. That perfect moment seemed like a lifetime ago. With hindsight she acknowledged she'd probably fallen in love with him that morning when the
heartless bottom-line bastard
had helped with the foals, then followed her to make sure she was okay.

She aimed her beam, following the trail, worry taking over. “He's headed toward the river. There's a shallow, rocky crossing upstream from here.”

“And then?”

“Highway. I wish I knew how much of a head start he had on us.” The idea of Sam riding along the interstate on horseback in the dark— She urged her mount into a trot and clung for dear life until her body relaxed into the motion, finding the horse's rhythm and remembering how to post with it. “I'll call Jeremiah and get him to have the sheriff patrol the highway side.”

She slowed long enough to make the call. Wyatt kept pace beside her, monitoring every word. Five minutes later, he pulled his mount to a halt. Hers stopped automatically. “Is that the river I hear?”

“Yes.” And she didn't like the sounds of it. The recent rains had created small runoff streams on the steeper slopes, and from the dull roar ahead, Hannah suspected the river would be swollen and flowing faster. But she didn't want to burden Wyatt with that news.

Her mount sensed her tension and took it as a cue to go faster. She rounded a bend. A downed tree blocked the trail ahead. Hannah quickly scanned the area and spotted Phoenix,
the saddle on her back empty. Fear closed her throat. She pulled her gelding to a stop. The leafy top of the tree divided a small channel of water flowing fast enough to carve a path on each side of the broad trunk. A water hazard. Like the jump that had killed her mother and her horse.

Nausea rolled through her. She swallowed it. Where was Sam?

Please, please don't let him be lying on the other side of the tree.

From the saddle, Hannah did a cursory check of the horse which looked unharmed, its legs shaped as they should be, as far as her narrow beam could make out. Then she surveyed the dense bamboo forest surrounding the blocked path. The only way Sam could have continued was to go over the obstacle. Had he tried to jump and the mare refused, tossing him over her head? Sam wasn't fit enough to crash-land without injuring himself.

The image of her mother, twisted and unconscious and her horse struggling to rise with a severely fractured leg, flooded Hannah's mind, making her heart pound and her muscles freeze in terror.

“Hannah.” Wyatt's tone indicated he'd called her more than once. He rode up beside her, his calf bumping hers.

She blinked away the grisly mental picture, reined in her fear and dismounted. Her legs trembled like leaves in a gale-force wind as she tried to find the courage to approach the tree.

Wyatt joined her. He scanned the scene, his light landing on the mare, and his face paled. “Sam!”

He lunged forward, but Hannah stepped into his path, planting a hand on his chest. “Stay with the horses. I'll let you know if he's there.”

“Get out of my way.”

“Wyatt, you don't need to see—”

Comprehension dawned on his face. “You stay here. Sam might need my help.”

What if Sam was beyond help—as her mother had been? She bit her lip and tasted blood. “You're not going without me.”

She jogged through the water beside him. Each step felt like a mile through mud. They leaned across the trunk simultaneously. No Sam. Air rushed from her lungs, making her dizzy with relief. She sagged against the downed trunk. “He's not here. That means he's able to walk.”

“Sam,” Wyatt shouted again.

Only the gurgle of water answered, then a twig snapped in the distance. Pulse-pounding seconds later, Sam entered their narrow spotlights—walking normally. “You found me. Too bad. I was hoping for a little more adventure.”

Hysterical laughter bubbled up Hannah's throat, cut short by Wyatt vaulting the trunk and sprinting toward Sam. He stopped a yard short, clenching and unclenching his hands. Then he grabbed his stepfather in a bear hug. Sam patted Wyatt's back. She could see his lips moving, but couldn't hear his words. Only then did she notice Wyatt's shaking shoulders.

Everything inside Hannah turned to mush, and tears stung her eyes. She'd been right about Wyatt. He wasn't a coldhearted bastard, though he pretended to be one. And he might deny it, but he did love Sam. He just didn't, or couldn't, love her.

And who could blame him after this? She'd inadvertently put Sam's life in danger with her self-absorbed tunnel vision.

Her throat clogged. She had to stop trying to rescue people and horses, because her father was right. No matter how many she saved, she couldn't bring her mother back. And she might get someone else hurt. Or worse.

That left her with only one option. She'd have to sell her cottage to Wyatt and walk away from everyone and everything that mattered to her. Her home. Her history. Her mother's legacy.

T
oo overwrought to sleep, Wyatt sat in his dark office and fought off the lingering remnants of panic.

He'd almost lost Sam. And it would have been his fault. Not Hannah's.
His.
Because he'd pushed his stepfather away when Sam had needed him most.

While listening to Sam reminisce during the horseback ride home an hour ago, Wyatt had been ambushed by memories of the good times they'd shared, and he'd realized he wasn't ready for the past to be the sum total of their relationship. He wanted to bank more memories, and the only thing preventing him from doing so was his misconceived attempt at protecting himself from the pain of eventually losing Sam. He had Hannah to thank for that uncomfortable insight.

Hannah. He'd completely misjudged her. And he owed her an apology.

A hint of pink on the horizon lured him to the French doors. He stepped onto the patio outside his office. The beginning of a new day hovered beyond the distant treetops.

The landscape looked the same and yet totally different because today he saw Sutherland Farm for the first time not as a multimillion-dollar investment he couldn't wait to unload, but through Hannah's eyes.

The rolling green pastures and stone buildings held the history of her family, a tradition of breeding champions, and imbued a sense of belonging and renewal. When he'd purchased the property, he'd robbed Hannah of all that. Despite that, she'd made room for him and Sam in her life, and last night she'd faced her fears for them.

First by climbing on a horse for the first time since her mother's death, and then, even after he'd fired her, she'd tried to save him from the pain of finding Sam's body on the other side of the tree. From her deathly pallor when she'd planted herself in front of him, he guessed she had been remembering and reliving the day she'd lost her mother and horse. But she'd wanted to spare him.

Such generosity confounded him. He always looked out for number one, whereas Hannah tried to save and protect everyone but herself. He'd encountered many women willing to hurt him. But hurt
for
him? None. Until Hannah.

Her actions last night had revealed the depth of her character in ways nothing else could. The woman he'd deemed too good to be true was the real deal, and it shamed him that he'd been so blinded by his prejudices and the superficial glitz that he'd missed the truth even though it had been right in front of his eyes all along.

Hannah's father had showered her with material possessions, but she hadn't become the spoiled, pampered princess Wyatt had assumed her to be because she dealt in a different currency—a more personal, more valuable one. She doled out chunks of her heart like coins to anyone or anything in need despite the emotional cost that inevitably followed.

Her courage humbled him. She invested herself in her
causes while he took the easy way out by paying other people to handle the messy, emotional details of life.

He'd been convinced that having Sam out of sight would equate to having him out of mind. He'd been wrong, and his emotional cowardice had not only robbed Sam of his dignity, it could cost Wyatt his relationship with the man who'd been more of a father to him than his own flesh and blood.

And it could cost him Hannah. It surprised him to discover how much that bothered him. He'd completely blown it with her. He didn't want to let her go. But he didn't deserve her. Or to put it correctly, she deserved better than a man who'd treated her badly and tried to run her off. His only excuse was that the feelings she stirred in him scared the hell out of him.

Life had taught him that emotionally investing in someone led to pain and disappointment. But when things got messy, Hannah rolled up her sleeves and waded in with her heart wide open. She took on cases that others had written off as lost causes even though she knew she could fail.

The least he could do was try to match her courage.

A flash of movement caught his attention. Hannah emerged from the crop of trees surrounding her cottage and leaned against the stone wall facing the barns a quarter mile away.

Firing her had been a mistake. She belonged here far more than he did.

She turned in the opposite direction. He considered calling her back, but with the wind rustling the leaves she might not hear him. Besides, this was a conversation best had somewhere besides the driveway. With the staff due to roll in, there would be too many interruptions.

He descended the steps and followed her. His feet sank deep into the thick emerald lawn and it brought back memories of running barefoot on Sam's farm, of lazy days fishing beside his stepfather. Even though Sam had had a stable and a distillery to run, he'd always made time for Wyatt. It was time for Wyatt to return that favor.

Hannah ducked through the fence and headed down the path to the boathouse. The secluded spot was as good a place as any for his apology. He had to slow his steps when he entered the still shadowy woods and by the time he reached the clearing, Hannah was already on the dock. But this morning she hadn't removed her shoes and she wasn't paddling her feet in the water. She stood staring at the horizon with her shoulders slumped and arms wrapped around her middle.

He knew the exact second she became aware of his approach by the tension invading her body. The platform rocked beneath his feet and the wooden boards creaked as he joined her. “Good morning, Hannah.”

“Are you going to have me arrested for trespassing?” Her pallor accentuated the shadows beneath her eyes and the urge to brush the purple smudges with his thumbs almost overwhelmed him.

“No. I'm sorry I lost my temper last night. You're not fired. You're an asset to Sutherland Farm. I don't want you to go.”

Her lips parted as if she were going to speak, then she turned back to the water. “How's Sam?”

Typical of the woman he'd discovered her to be, she showed concern for someone else rather than herself. “Sleeping off his exciting night. Why aren't you doing the same?”

“I couldn't sleep.” She wrapped her arms tighter around her middle and stared across the water.

“Same here. I hate to think what would have happened if you hadn't helped me find Sam last night. I know it was hard for you. Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” She still didn't look at him.

He swallowed. Opening up wasn't easy, but if he wanted to convince Hannah to give him a second chance he had to make her understand why he'd made bad decisions. “You accused me of being a bottom-line bastard. And you were right. I was pushing Sam away because I was afraid of losing him…like I did my father.”

Her head whipped in his direction. “Your father's dead?”

“No. He had an affair. When his lover became pregnant, he discarded Mom and me without a backward glance and started a new family. It was as if Mom and I had never existed.”

Sympathy darkened her eyes. “How old were you?”

“Almost fourteen.”

“That must have been hard. You don't keep in touch?”

“I haven't seen him since the day he walked out. I didn't mind for me, but for my mother… She became cold and distant, someone I didn't know.”

“You lost both parents at the same time.”

“It felt that way. And then she met Sam, and for a while she became the mom I remembered. Then Sam was diagnosed and she turned her back on him the way Dad had us.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I'm not asking for pity. I'm trying and not doing a good job of explaining why I fought so hard not to let myself care too much. After my father left, I promised myself I wouldn't love anyone else ever again. It wasn't worth the pain. But Sam got past my defenses. Then I started losing him one memory at a time. I bought Sutherland Farm as a place to dump him so I wouldn't have to watch his decline. I was leaving him before he left me.” A lump swelled in his throat. He swallowed.

Hannah squeezed his arm. “I know how difficult it is to watch someone you love fade away. That's what happened with my mom. She held on for a week before Dad took the doctors' advice and discontinued life support.”

He swore. “Hannah—”

“It's okay. In the end, her organs allowed four people to have extra time with their families. She would have wanted it that way.”

“Your ability to always see the positives is mind-boggling. I envy that.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes that's harder than others.” She ducked her head and stubbed the toe of her sneaker on the
dock. “My father is right. I have no head for business. I've never tried to learn the financial side of the operation because sticking to a budget meant cutting expenses, and cutting expenses meant making difficult decisions about which students and animals I could help and which ones I had to turn away.”

She fisted her hands until her knuckles turned white. “My inability to say no put Sam in jeopardy. I'm going to dissolve the school and rescue operation and ship all my horses to Rashed for his program.”

The defeat in her voice twisted something inside him. He'd done that to her—crushed her spirit and taken everything she loved away. “What about the people and horses you help here?”

“And as you've pointed out more than once, FYC is a high-risk, low-return venture and, regardless of the precautions we take, if I operate it long enough someone is going to get hurt. Last night—”

“Hannah, last night was not your fault. It was mine. Sam acted out because in my fear of him getting hurt I'd caged him like an animal. Don't let my mistakes shake your confidence and kill your dream. You do good work here.”

She shook her head. “I've decided to accept your offer to buy my cottage.”

Her voice broke on the last word. Desperation rose inside him. He wanted—no, needed—to find a way to make her stay. He needed Hannah in his life to show him that some battles were worth fighting.

“My purchase offer's no longer on the table.”

Eyes wide, she swung toward him. “B-but this is what you wanted. You've been trying to get rid of me ever since you bought the place.”

“And now I want you to stay. What would Sutherland Farm be without a Sutherland?”

“It'll be whatever the next owner calls it.”

The idea of Sutherland Farm without Hannah's presence repelled him. His life without her in it appealed even less. Her damned Pollyanna attitude had gotten to him and he was addicted. “I'm not selling the farm, Hannah.”

“But—”

“I have a different proposition for you.”

Suspicion pleated her brow. “What is it this time?”

“I'll deed the entire property over to you if you'll allow Sam to live in your cottage and work with the horses as long as he's able. Afterward all of the property—all two thousand two acres, including the main house—will be yours.”

“What's the catch?”

He took a deep breath. It was time to lay his cards on the table and risk rejection. “You've shown me that success isn't limited to numbers on a balance sheet, and the time I have left with Sam is worth far more than dollars and cents. I want to be a part of his life. And yours, Hannah.

“You've proven denying my emotions doesn't eradicate them, and you've taught me what true selflessness is and what it means to open myself up—no matter the personal costs. You dream big, Hannah, with the vault to your soul wide open. You're not afraid of hurt or disappointment and I envy that.”

“Of course I'm afraid, Wyatt. I get hurt like everyone else and I fail sometimes, too. But I don't choose to let the negatives keep me from searching for the positives.”

“It's that ability to see the potential in every man or beast you encounter that makes you unique and special. I like the me you see, and I want an opportunity to become that man—the one who is not afraid to admit that—” The words jammed in his chest. He cleared his throat. “I love Sam.”

Her tender smile twisted something inside him. “That wasn't so hard, was it?”

“No, I'm getting to the hard part.” His heart hammered like a knocking piston against his chest. He experienced the same dizzying sensation he'd felt when he'd looked over the
forty-story apartment balcony and realized how close he'd come to losing Sam. But to be worthy of Hannah, he had to take the risk.

“I've fallen in love with you, Hannah. You're a woman who can't say no to lost causes. And I'm hoping you won't say no to the biggest one of all—me.”

Her mouth parted in a gasp, and for several seconds she gaped at him, searching his face as if doubting his words. Tears filled her eyes, and his gut burned like hot metal. Then a weak smile twitched her lips. “I never called you a lost cause. I may have thought it, but I never said it.”

“It doesn't change the fact that I was one. But I can change.” He captured her cold hands in his. “Rescue me, Hannah. Help me become the man that you see—the one who has the capacity to open his heart and not just his wallet. The one who's not afraid to feel.”

“You're not nearly as hard as you think you are, Wyatt. Your love for Sam proves that.”

Her words filled him with hope. He moved closer and cupped her soft cheeks. “Let me love you. And learn with you. Let me hold you in my arms every night, not as my mistress, but as my wife, as the woman who keeps me grounded in what really matters.”

A lone tear trailed down her cheek, spilling over his thumb. “That's a pretty tall order. But I can't think of a better place to be. You are lovable, Wyatt. Sam loves you.” She rose on tiptoe and briefly pressed her lips to his. “And I love you.”

He banded his arms around her, hugging her close and covering her mouth. He couldn't get enough of her taste, her scent, her warmth. When he finally lifted his head, their panting breaths mingled. “You won't regret giving me a chance.”

Her swollen lips curved upward. “I know I won't.”