The Blackstone Legacy Read Online Free PDF Page A

She’d been unfaithful to her husband’s memory. It had taken half an hour before she fell asleep again only to be awakened by the same dream. This time she lay, savoring the pleasurable pulsing aftermath of her traitorous body. Within minutes she succumbed to a sated sleep and woke at sunrise.
    Leaving her bed, Kelly padded to the bathroom. Peering into the face in the mirror over the sink, she searched for a sign of shame or guilt, but found none. She had to face the realization that she wasattracted to Ryan because she was a normal woman with normal sexual urges. At thirty she was much too young to permanently forgo sexual gratification with a man. That was what her sister Pamela had tried to tell her. I’m certain if you’d died instead of Simeon he wouldn’t stop seeing other women, Pamela had said repeatedly. So why have you set yourself up as the martyred widow?
    I don’t know, she had told Pamela over and over. And she hadn’t known—not until now. What Pamela and Leo Porter and even she hadn’t known at the time was that she had not met the right man.
    But, was Dr. Ryan Blackstone the right man? “No,” she said to her reflection.
    She reached for a facial cloth in a small plastic container and wet it. Using a circular motion, she washed her face, then splashed cold water over her tingling skin before patting it dry with a fluffy towel. She filled the tub with water, adding a capful of perfumed oil, and brushed her teeth and tried to dismiss the erotic musing about a certain veterinarian from her mind.
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    Ryan raised his head to peer at the clock on the bedside table, groaning under his breath. It was minutes before three, and he hadn’t had more than two hours of sleep since retiring for bed at ten-thirty. He knew the reason for his insomnia was Kelly Andrews.
    It was as if he still could see the play of sunlight on her warm brown skin, the contrast of her white blouse against her velvety throat, and the lush curves of her hips in the slim skirt. What had surprised him was that she hadn’t worn any makeup other than a soft shade of orange-brown lipstick, and still she was stunning.
    Everything about her, from the way she’d dressed, her poise and the way she spoke screamed big-city sophistication. A wry smile curved his mouth, and Ryan wondered how long would it take before she tired of smelling hay, horse urine and manure. And when the weekends came would she be content to stay on the farm or would she head to the nearest big city for some real fun?
    Throwing back the sheet, he sat up and left the bed, knowing he wasn’t going back to sleep. Twenty minutes later, dressed in a plaid cotton shirt, jeans and a pair of old boots, he walked to the stables.
    Sensors lit up the area where the prize horses were stabled for the night. Placing his right hand on a panel, he waited until a flashing red signal switched to a steady green before he punched in a code. The lock to the stable was deactivated. Sliding back a door, Ryan walked into the dimly lit space, and closed the door behind him.
    He stopped at the stall of an exquisite foal, smiling at the potential Triple Crown winner. The colt, Shah Jahan, was the product of Blackstone Farms’swinningest mare and a former Preakness winner. He had the bloodlines of a potential Thoroughbred champion.
    Ryan lingered in the stable, checking on each horse, and when he walked out the workers were arriving with the rising sun. The build-up of heat had begun to burn away the haze covering the valley as he had made his way to his house, a weighted fatigue settling over him. His eyelids were drooping but he managed to shower before falling across his bed and into the comforting arms of Morpheus.
    He slept deeply, not waking until late afternoon—well after the Blackstone Farms Day School’s open house ended.
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    Kelly stood in the doorway to the brick structure, noting the curious expression on the face of a