“Bliss, wait!” Mason yelled. “Oh, before I forget why I came here, Cawthorne, this is yours.” There was a slap of paper on a hard surface. “The deed to this place, signed back to Brynnie. Now it’s official. I don’t want your spread anymore, Cawthorne. I don’t want anything of yours.”

“Includin’ my daughter?”

Bliss didn’t wait for Mason’s answer. She ran down the steps, across the yard to the paddock where Fire Cracker was grazing. Run. Get away now. You’ve already lost your heart to Mason, but you can’t let him know. Tears streamed from her eyes. Dear God, she’d fallen in love with him all over again. The one man she didn’t dare trust with her heart seemed to have it in a crushing grip that she couldn’t pry open. How many nights had she dreamed of lying naked in his arms, oblivious to anything but the feel of his breath against her bare skin? How many hours had she spent thinking of him, wondering if there was any way they could have a future together?

“Wait a second!” Mason’s voice and the sound of his boots crunching on gravel caught up with her.

She headed straight for the mare. Hearing the commotion, the horse snorted and pricked her ears forward. Overhead, swallows disturbed from their nests, dipped and fluttered near the eaves of the stables.

“I said, ‘Wait,’” Mason nearly yelled as he caught up with her.

She whirled and almost ran into him in the darkness. “Why?”

“Because we should talk this out.”

“We could have. When you found out the truth—which, it sounds like, was years ago. But no, you kept it a secret. Were you ever going to tell me?” she demanded, angling her furious face upward and feeling heat pulsing in her cheeks. Curse the man! He was just too damned sexy with his thin lips, thick-lashed eyes and taut, tanned skin over high, angry cheekbones. Just staring into his lying eyes caused a rolling, needy sensation deep inside her. A sensation she suddenly hated.

“If and when I thought it was necessary.”

“If you thought it was necessary. What about me? This was my life, too, you know.” Brushing the condemning tears from her cheeks, she added. “I don’t need any man—not my father and certainly not you—trying to protect me or keep secrets from me, or do whatever it is you thought you were doing. Okay?”

“I did what I thought was best.”

“Yeah. Just like Dad. Next time, ask me. Better yet, don’t. There won’t be a next time.”

She strode into the stables and grabbed a bridle. Mason followed and took hold of her arm. “Slow down, Bliss. We need to talk.”

She whistled to the mare—the way she’d learned from Mason so many years before.