Doyle shifted in the cushiony seat as the plane bore him back across the gray waters to Ireland from his latest trip. It ended up being longer than he’d planned, going to London, then France, and finally to Spain, the latter totally on a whim. However, the result of the final stop had pleased him most. How good it would feel to be home, though. Three weeks away was far too long. He literally ached to get back in the saddle of one of his favorite horses and let the burdensome cares and duties fade for a time. As the plan for his new program surged to the forefront of his thoughts, he smiled to himself. Oh yes, some exciting things were coming to the O’Brien estate, very soon.
However, home now meant something more. That “more” was both exciting and worrisome. Bobby was there. The mere thou
