Furious with himself for niggling at what shouldn't have been a problem, he poured a glass of the wine. He sniffed it, shrugged, downed it.
"When in Rome, Fury."
But he set the glass aside and began to pace again, prowling back and forth across the length of the room like a cat prowling the confines of a cage.
He'd caught a glimpse of Ann that afternoon, when he supervised the transfer of the colt. From the bullets she shot out of her eyes, he had the feeling that Laura hadn't managed to get past her that morning.
It made him grin to think of it, the elegant lady of the house sneaking in at dawn in a baggy shirt and jeans, caught by the ever-present, cold-eyed housekeeper.
Maybe Sullivan had locked Laura in. His grin vanished as the idea popped into his head. Maybe she had Laura trapped inside, refusing to let her out. Maybe she was…
And maybe he should get a grip on himself, he decided.
The hell with it. He headed for the door. He was going after her.
When he yanked it open, Laura jumped back a full step, pressed a hand to her throat. "You scared the life out of me."
"Sorry. I was about to rescue you from the dungeon."
"Oh?" She smiled, puzzled. "Were you?"
"But you seemed to have managed it on your own."
"I couldn't come any sooner. We've been having a little chaos. My parents have decided to come out for a quick visit. They'll be here in a couple of days, and the girls were so excited, I had a hard time getting them to bed. Then we had to—"
"You don't have to explain to me. Just come here." He pulled her close and released a portion of frustrated need in one rough kiss. Pressing her back against the doorjamb, he fisted his hands in her hair and released more.
The same, she thought, wrapping herself around him. The same heat, the same rash, the same wonder. When she could breathe again, she kept her clenched hands on his shirt.
"I thought…"
"What?"
But she shook her head. "Nothing." Smiling, she lifted her hands to frame his face. "Hello, Michael."
"Hello, Laura." He circled her inside, closed the door with his boot. "I was going to offer you some wine."
"Oh, thank you. That would be nice."
"But it's going to have to wait." He swung her into his arms.
"Oh. That's even nicer."
He did bring her a glass when she was sitting on his rumpled bed wearing his shirt. Not having what he considered her misplaced sense of modesty, he sat across from her naked, knee to knee.
"I'm kind of celebrating," he told her, and tapped the glasses together.
She felt so loose she was certain she could slide right into the sheets. "What are you kind of celebrating?"
"I sold two horses today. One to your brother-in-law."
"Byron?" Surprised, she sipped, recognized the rich tang of a good Templeton Chardonnay. "Funny, Kate never mentioned that they were buying a horse."
"I guess he hadn't told her yet."
"Oh… uh-oh."
"Does Kate have a problem with horses?"