The slaves ran off. Garrett Weston was killed at Shiloh. Bitterly, Kit received the news that he'd left the plantation to his wife. Kit had received a trust fund from her grandmother a few years earlier, but that meant nothing to her.
Not long after, Yankee soldiers marched through Rutherford, burning everything in their path. Rosemary's attraction to a handsome young lieutenant from Ohio and her subsequent invitation for him to join her in her bedroom spared the house at Risen Glory, although not the outbuildings. Shortly after Lee's surrender at Appomattox. Rosemary died in an influenza epidemic.
Kit had lost everything. Her father, her childhood, her way of life. Only the land was left. Only Risen Glory. And as she curled into the thin mattress above the stable owned by Baron Cain, she knew that was all that counted. No matter what she had to do, she'd get it back. She fell asleep imagining how it would be when Risen Glory was finally hers.
The stable held four horses, a matched pair for the carriage and two hunters. Some of Kit's tension eased the next morning as a large bay with a long, elegant neck nuzzled her shoulder. Everything would be all right. She'd keep her eyes open and bide her time. Baron Cain was dangerous, but she had the advantage. She knew her enemy.
"His name is Apollo."
"What?" She spun around to see a young man with rich chocolate skin and large, expressive eyes standing on the other side of the half door that separated the stalls from the center aisle of the stable. He was in his early-to-mid-twenties and tall, with slim shoulders and a slight, supple build. A black-and-white mongrel waited patiently near his heels.