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believe that foreclosing on Cedar Hill is personal enough.”
    Apprehension, light and minnow-quick, darted through Lorne’s self-satisfaction. It was gone in a flash. “Anything else you wanted to see me about?” he asked abruptly.
    “Yes. I want to borrow against my inheritance,” Aly stated, referring to the sizable bequest left her by her grandmother, the woman who had given birth to this bank vault that was Aly’s father.
    The cigar bobbed in surprise. “What for?”
    “I want to buy Cedar Hill.”
    The cigar dropped from Lorne’s mouth. Hastily, he retrieved it before the luxurious brocade could be damaged, then scowled at his daughter. “No!” he answered. “Absolutely, unequivocally no!”
    “Then I want to borrow against it to buy Sampson. The money will help the Waynes relocate, maybe provide a down payment on another place until Marshall can help out.”
    “You don’t know the first thing about horses.”
    “I can learn. Willy can teach me.”
    “Willy has refused to go near a horse for twenty years. Furthermore, you have no place to stable Sampson.”
    “I’ll find a place. If you don’t let me borrow against my inheritance, then when I come into my trust, I’ll draw out all my money and deposit it in your competitor’s bank. Think how that would affect your image as a banker and a father, not to mention the bank’s assets.”
    Lorne puffed rapidly and almost laughed, realizing she had him boxed in. He hadn’t any doubt that if he refused her the money, Aly at twenty-four would do exactly as threatened. He had never forgiven his mother for leaving the lion’s share of her fortune to Aly. It had been the one major financial reversal in his long business life. “All right,” he agreed, “but you needn’t think I’ll extend you credit or increase your allowance for feeding and stabling expenses. You better figure out a way to afford a horse. And I’d give a little thought to the possibility that Marshall might not sell to you, you being a Kingston and all.” He smiled complacently.
    Aly stood up to go. “I’ll let you know the amount I want to borrow—”
    “Six thousand, five hundred. Not a cent over.”
    “Now, Dad, you know that wouldn’t go far toward the purchase of another place for the Waynes. Besides, Sampson is worth a lot more than that. Matt Taylor was practically stealing him.”
    As she neared the door, her father startled her by saying, “Do you suppose you will ever outgrow your obsession for Marshall Wayne? He could never be interested in anyone like you, you know. And once Cedar Hill is sold, the Waynes will probably have to leave Claiborne. There’s no work around here for a man like Sy, no place to live. They’ll probably want to leave anyway. That damnable Wayne pride won’t let Sy keep his family in a town where they’re at the mercy of local pity and charity. Chances are, after the auction, you may never see Marshall again.”
    How was it possible that after all these years, her father could still hurt her? She thought herself inured to him. But she wasn’t, she found. “That possibility pleases you, doesn’t it, Dad. Did you by any chance foreclose on Cedar Hill to hurt me?”
    “My dear,” said Lorne, his tone softly chiding, “I never once thought of you in regard to the foreclosure on Cedar Hill.”

Chapter Three
    T he bustle of the flight attendants as they began serving drinks to the first-class passengers failed to penetrate Aly’s reverie. Not until the smartly aproned young woman tapped her shoulder, and her seat mate snapped his tray table down, did the question she’d just been asked register, bringing Aly back to the present with a jolt.
    “What?”
    The hostess patiently repeated her litany. “May I serve you a cocktail, some wine, or a soft drink?”
    “Oh, no, thank you. Nothing for me.” Aly rested her head against the seat back again as the attendant supplied a Bloody Mary and a miniature tray of cheese and crackers to the