Page 42 of Branded

LENNOX

We ride straight from the northern pastures to the main house. The contrast between the working ranch and Eleanor’s showpiece home is stark even from a distance. One is all function and purpose, the other all gleaming surfaces and carefully maintained perfection.

Sebastian pulls Cisco to a stop near the formal gardens that surround the main house, and I bring Duchess alongside him. The mare is breathing hard from our race back. I won by half a length, which made Sebastian laugh instead of brood. I’m windblown, and from experience I probably look like I forgot to comb my hair. Not the polished image Eleanor probably expects.

“You sure you don’t want to clean up first?” Sebastian asks, reading my thoughts.

“Your mother’s expecting me at ten. It’s—” I check the watch I found in my unpacked boxes “—nine fifty-three. I’m already cutting it close.”

I dismount carefully, Duchess still testing me with a sidestep; I’m not about to give Eleanor any reason to think I’m getting sloppy. My thighs ache from the ride, muscles protesting after months of being in California, and it feels good.

A stable hand appears from somewhere—the palace apparently has staff for everything—and he takes both horses with a respectful nod. Sebastian gently places his hand on the small of my back, his possessive touch I’m getting used to.

Something shifted on the ride. The way he kissed me under the oak trees, slow and exploratory instead of demanding. Our conversation about finding something real instead of just surviving the next two years. The race back, laughing like we’re just two people enjoying good horses, open land and one another.

I don’t know what to do with this version of Sebastian. He’s still the man who bought me at auction, who fucked me into submission, who makes my body betray me repeatedly—him I understand. That man is a monster, and monsters are predictable.

But the man who’s shown me his family’s ranch with genuine pride, who watched me assess breeding stock and seemed pleased I know what I’m talking about. Who kissed me like he actually wants to know me instead of just owning me; that man is dangerous in a completely different way.

The doors open before we reach them, and Eleanor appears, perfectly put together. Her eyes move from Sebastian to me, taking in my windblown hair, my dusty boots, the flush in my cheeks.

“Well,” she says, a small smile playing on her lips. “I see Sebastian gave you a tour first.”

“He did.” I resist the urge to smooth my hair. “We rode out to the north pastures. Your breeding program is impressive.”

“No, dear, the men’s breeding program,” Eleanor corrects gently with a roll of her eyes. “I’m afraid cattle operations aren’t my forte. I don’t bother with that.” She steps back, gesturing us inside. “But I will show you everything else. The parts of Devil’s Ridge Ranch that keep everything running smoothly.”

Sebastian kisses my temple, quick, casual, and I try not to flinch at the unexpected tenderness. “I’ll leave you to it. I’ve got calls with the California properties I need to handle.”

“Running your empire from Texas?” Eleanor asks.

“The beauty of modern technology, Mother. I can run it from anywhere.” He looks at me. “You’ll be okay?”

Is that actual concern? Or just making sure I won’t crack under his mother’s scrutiny without him there to intervene?

“I’ll be fine,” I say, smiling at him.

He turns to leave, and I can’t help but watch him walk away. That man in a suit is a monster, but in a pair of ass-hugging, thigh-kissing Wranglers, he’s both dangerous and tender. I lick my lips and bite the corner of my mouth.

“Shall we do this later?” she finally asks, breaking the trance his ass has me in.

“Oh, I, um, I’m sorry,” I stammer. My mother-in-law just caught me ogling my husband.

“Dear, if you weren’t drooling over your new husband, I’d have questions.” She smiles at me, and I can feel my face turn red. She gestures toward a hallway. “I thought we could start with the household offices, then tour the public spaces, and end with the family wing. The girls are somewhere around here; they’ve been asking about you since they woke up.”

We walk through marble hallways lined with art and family portraits spanning generations. Eleanor points out various Drakes through history, giving me the abbreviated version of the family tree. Sebastian’s great-great-grandfather Ryerson who founded the ranch. His son, Mathias, who expanded into oil. Walker’s father, Walker Sr., who modernized the cattle operation and made the Drake name synonymous with quality beef.

“And then Walker and I built this house,” Eleanor says as we enter a suite of rooms that look more like a corporate headquarters than anything residential. “The original ranch house is charming in its own way, but it isn’t suitable for the kind of entertaining and business dealings that come with our name.”

I think about the stone walls and timber beams of Sebastian’s house, the way it overlooks the entire operation, and bite back my opinion that the house is perfectly suited for actual ranching. In contrast, this palace is suited for impressing people who don’t know the difference between a cow and a bull.

“These are the household accounts,” Eleanor continues, showing me an office where a middle-aged woman works at a computer. “Patricia manages all the staff schedules, vendor contracts, event planning. Patricia, I’d like you to meet Lennox, Sebastian’s wife.”

Patricia looks up with a warm smile. “Welcome to Devil’s Ridge, Mrs. Drake. If you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Mrs. Drake. The name still feels foreign, like I’m wearing someone else’s skin.

We continue through more offices, housing catering coordination, maintenance schedules, guest accommodation management. The home apparently requires a staff of fifteen just to maintain its daily operations, not counting the ranch hands who work the actual cattle operation.