Today's Reading
"Miss Kensington," he said, striving to keep his voice from sounding patronizing. He admired her heart and dedication, sure, but she must not understand the full picture. "With all due respect, you need to leave Poland. Immediately. I know these horses are prized and you have worked with them for some time, but you need to leave them behind."
As he kept his gaze on the road, he sensed her sharp stare settling on his face. A wall rose within her expression, as tangible as the steering wheel beneath his hands.
He'd underestimated her. His warning only cemented her resolve and his role as her opponent. The way she'd dove into the crowd and broken free Ludwik's cart horse, the constant smudges and stains she had on her clothes—they all pointed to how meaningful these horses were to her. They weren't just her job. They were her duty.
It was the same way he viewed his calling—and why he'd given up hope of a normal life to pursue it.
But he'd already paid a dear price, and in the moment, he wasn't sure it was doing any good. War had begun anyway. Charlie's sacrifice, Bret's years in the shadows—none of it had made a difference.
Adia's voice was deep and resolute, her eyes fixed on the road ahead as the pristine white buildings of Janow Podlaski peeked through the trees. "I have a plan to keep the horses out of Nazi hands. Leaving the horses is the last thing I intend to do."
CHAPTER TWO
Adia straightened in her seat as Bret Conway turned the vehicle onto the long driveway, a lane of white rock among lush green pastures, white fencing, and brilliant emerald trees.
The white clock tower at the center of the main barn gleamed in the sunlight, the regal sight sending a jolt of admiration down Adia's spine. The square tower, reminiscent of a medieval castle, stood in proud testament to the hundreds of years it had faced invaders and near destruction.
Horses of all colors decorated the countryside. Mares grazed contently while foals nursed or frolicked at their sides, oblivious to the distant planes. Within the stables and fields, there were more than two hundred and fifty horses.
Arabian horses. Lean, built for endurance, speed, and elegance. Arched necks and tails, wide eyes, attentive ears, and sloped faces. Honed for what they were best at: racing, long-distance trekking, companionship. Even battle.
The truck neared the circular driveway, and her chest tightened.
Janow Podlaski was her home. It had been for three years now and had been her dream for a lifetime prior.
In a flash, it could all be gone.
Would history be doomed to repeat? No. She'd prepared for this very thing.
"A plan?" Bret said. She wasn't sure if he'd asked her a time or two before. She'd tuned out his voice.
Panic and restlessness seized her, and she opened the passenger door and jumped out before Bret pulled to a stop. Ewan ran off to wander the halls that were his playground.
Escaping Bret Conway's presence did little to reduce her unease. It had taken nearly all of the past month to overcome her anger at allowing herself to indulge such foolishness. Agreeing to dinner, only to be stood up by the cocky and overbearing reporter. The sad, patronizing looks from Babka and the other diners—they still burned deep.
Of all the people to find her unconscious, bested by a horse, no less.
She rubbed her forehead. That ornery old mare. Who would have expected Lyra to get the better of Janow's best trainer?
"Wait," Bret called out behind her.
She walked with hurried strides over the gravel, wishing to be rid of this man. He was as mesmerizing as she remembered, his deep gaze seeing through to her core. The pit of her stomach filled with lead at the recollection of sitting at Babka's for so long. Babka had apologized, claiming there must be a good reason for Bret to stand her up. But Adia had seen it before—had allowed such flights of fancy. Would she ever learn? There was no one to depend on but herself.
"Adia—Miss Kensington." His voice and footsteps drew nearer.
The fall and bump on her head had thrown her off balance. In a literal sense. Now Bret seemed intent on doing the same to her. His clipped British and the deep timbre of his voice were alluring.
He caught her arm and gently pulled her to a stop. "If I may?"
...
