"The Maggie I know, the one who wrangles half-ton bulls and keeps cowboys in line, would've already walked over there and claimed him."
She looked at her sister, channeling the very best poker face she could manage. "And whom am I supposed to claim?"
Bea's nose wrinkled. "Really? That's all you've got? You're in love with him."
She'd barely admitted it to herself, but Bea had guessed.
"He's with Tirith," she murmured, looking away. It was too hard to bear Bea's scrutiny.
"No, he's not. They'd always been friends. Nothing more."
She wanted to believe her sister. But her eyes told her something entirely different.
"It's all a show," Bea said. "For everyone here. For the money."
The foundation.
She knew the foundation was important. It's why she'd come to Glorvaird.
But that didn't mean she'd ever fit here. Maybe if she'd never left the castle, maybe if she'd grown up in the bosom of politics and power, things could have been different.
But she wasn't Tirith. She wasn't a princess anymore. She was a cowgirl who valued honesty and hard work.
She couldn't reconcile the two.
That's why she didn't belong here.
She didn't want this life.
"I'm going up to my… to Tirith's rooms. I'll say good-night." She hugged Bea. There would be a tearful goodbye in the morning. For now, she needed to be alone.
8
Maggie didn't find the solace she'd hoped for back in Texas.
Oh, things were the same as a day, then two, then a week passed.
Her father had given her one of his bear hugs, and his worried gaze had followed her for the first few days after her return. And then it had been back to business as usual.
They'd fixed a fence line where years of runoff had eroded the ground. She and Scarlett had argued over whether to sell off part of the winter herd. She'd spent hours on horseback, half the time lost in daydreams of Luc and what could've been.
She was happy. She told herself so.
She just didn't feel it.
And now she was getting ready to walk into the boardroom for the Triple H Foundation and be thrust into the world of politics all over again.
Only this time, she had a little Luc sitting on her shoulder.
Imagining what he would say and do gave her confidence when Mrs. Evans opened up the floor to old business.
"There's the matter of the equine therapy program," Maggie said.
She was peripherally aware of the boardroom door opening behind her, of someone slipping into a chair against the wall, almost directly behind her.
She didn't look.
She couldn't allow the distraction or she would lose her nerve.
