it baffled him why anyone would actually choose to be the center of attention. It had been fun at first, but after five years, the novelty had worn off. While he gave a good show when he had to, he’d much rather hide away at the farm his parents had left him in Vermont. Not that he’d seen it in months.
Nodding hello to his doorman as he entered his private elevator, Doug punched the button to his penthouse suite and waited for the doors to shut. He’d been thinking maybe it was time to settle down. Bite the bullet and ask Trisha to marry him. He knew she’d say yes.
Mentally sighing, he stepped off the elevator into his private foyer and unlocked his door. Tossing the keys into a bowl on the hall table, he walked through the penthouse to the kitchen where he knew he’d find Maria, his housekeeper.
“Señor Coleman!” she said with a smile. “You will eat in tonight, no?”
Doug shook his head, shooting her a crooked grin.
“No, I’ve got a date with Trisha tonight.”
Her face fell. She had made it obvious she didn’t like Trisha when the woman had stayed overnight last week. Not that Maria had ever said anything to Doug, but those betrayed looks of hers had been enough.
He couldn’t blame her. Trisha had treated Maria like her personal maid, demanding she do her laundry and cook for her while never once saying thank you. A twinge of conscience made him think about what his proposing to Trisha would do to Maria. Hell, she might even quit.
“Do you need anything else before I go?” Maria asked, untying her apron and hanging it up.
“No, thank you,” Doug said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night.”
Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, he headed toward the bathroom. After taking a long drink, he stripped and started the shower. It was one of the many luxuries of his penthouse apartment and high on his list of favorite things. Six showerheads from different angles around the shower sprayed out from above, below and beside him.
Stepping into the jets, Doug relaxed and let the pulsing water massage his tired muscles. As he worked up a soapy lather, his mind wandered to thoughts of Trisha.
Am I making the right decision in asking her to marry me? She isn’t the type to stick around if she thinks there’s someone better elsewhere.
Thinking it was a good thing he’d already had his lawyer put together a suitable pre-nup, he turned off the jets and stepped out of the shower. He wrapped a towel around his waist. He felt a grin tugging at his mouth as he imagined the look on Trisha’s face when she’d realize she’d never see a penny of his money if she divorced him for any reason.
Opening his generous closet, Doug took out a black suit. He was taking Trisha to dine in one of the most expensive restaurants in Hollywood. She always insisted on the best, and he was beginning to think she thought eating at certain places would enhance her popularity, especially if she was with Doug. He’d never seen himself as important enough to boost someone else up the proverbial ladder of success, but he wasn’t going to argue.
Trisha was determined to be famous. If it wasn’t something that affected him so personally, he might have found it funny. He’d been fooled by her attention at first, but it hadn’t taken long to realize she was only dating him for one reason. He was nothing more than a status symbol to her, and he knew she would drop him like a hot potato if someone higher up on the totem pole showed any interest in her. He frowned at the thought–not because he cared but because he didn’t.
Will it always be like this? he wondered as he dressed. It didn’t seem fair. He was ready to settle down and start a family. He hated the single life. Ever since his parents had died two years ago, Doug had felt alone. It didn’t help that his sister lived so far away. They’d never really been close, but at least they managed to get together for most holidays. She was finally dating someone seriously, and while he wished her well, he desperately wanted to find someone serious as well. Was that person Trisha, or was he jumping the gun?
Never considering that his acting career would see him through life, he had always expected to have a family and a normal life. Funny how life never went the way you expected.
Doug rode the elevator down from his penthouse suite and greeted the doorman as he left his apartment building. The limo driver opened the door for him, and Doug climbed inside to find the flowers he had ordered laying on the seat. The driver needed no direction and sped off into the night.
Chapter 2
1868
Planting her feet, Elizabeth braced herself against his muscular chest. His thick phallus was hard and ready, and he tossed his head as she guided him toward his goal. Her horse reared above her, and she stepped to the side so he could cover the mare standing patiently in front of him. Not all mares were as patient, but this one was well bred and seemed almost anxious for Black to perform the deed. Blowing at some hair that had fallen in her face, Elizabeth watched as her uncle held the mare’s head while the stallion drove into her with a scream of triumph.
Moments later he slumped down, resting his head next to the mare’s neck before dropping back down to all fours. Wearily he followed Elizabeth as she led Black, her breeding stallion, back to his stall and closed him inside.
“We’ll have him cover her again tomorrow,” she said, walking back into the indoor riding arena where her uncle was walking the mare in a circle before returning her to her stall. “Then we can return her to Mr. Washburn tomorrow afternoon.”
Elizabeth’s uncle nodded as he led the mare down the hall to her temporary stall. Closing her inside, he turned back to grin wryly at Elizabeth who had followed them.
“After this mare goes home, I think we should put Black to pasture for a few months,” he said.
“Truly?” she asked. “Who will you use in his stead?”
“I believe St. Peter will do very well,” he said as he walked down the barn corridor, Elizabeth falling in step beside him. “You’ve learned all I can teach about breeding, and it’s time to wait for the results of your hard work.”
“I think there is a mare close to foaling at the Washburn estate,” Elizabeth said. “Do you think I should visit and see how much longer she has?”
“You could,” her uncle said. “But it’s best not to let them know the real reason for your visit. If people knew I let you help use Black for stud services, we’d both be run out of the county!”
“I could never do that to Aunt Mabel,” she said, grinning up at him. “I’m glad you did show me. At least I have a trade of sorts if I should ever need it.”
“It’s not exactly a ladylike trade, now is it?” Uncle David asked.
He’d taught her all he knew about breeding horses and bloodlines from the moment she’d started asking questions about horse behaviors. Elizabeth had always been an accomplished rider and horsewoman, but her understanding of which mare should be bred to which stallion in the local stables was superior to his own. Of course, such education had been given reluctantly at first, as no lady, especially not a virgin, ought to know anything about how a stallion covered a mare.
Elizabeth had never been interested in being like other girls. Her aunt and uncle had raised her
