Lucia was running a soft brush over the gelding’s flank. “We’re not leaving. Not now, anyway,” he said. She froze for a couple of seconds. Then the brush resumed its long strokes. “Do you want to talk?” he asked. She gave her horse a final pat and turned toward him. Her chin was up but her eyes were hurt as she shook her head. “Not really.” “Fair enough.” Cristan wished he didn’t have to push the conversation. But it couldn’t wait. The past was hunting them. Lucia needed to know the risk. But how much detail would he give her about Eva? He’d loved his wife, but did their daughter need to know about her late mother’s dark side? “But I guess we have to.” Lucia leaned on Snowman’s shoulder, her face distrustful. “So, tell me about my mother.” She deserved to know the whole truth, but would she forgive him when she learned how much he’d been concealing?
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