CHAPTER FIVE
Without thinking, Toni removed the keys from the ignition and handed them to Christian. "You wait here while I get someone with a wheelchair."
"I have a headache, Antonia," he said with a frown. There's nothing wrong with my legs." "Oh, but—" she started, then stopped. Christian already had his door open and was climbing out. Toni hurried around the car to his side and slipped a sus-taining arm around his waist. "Lean your weight on me," she instructed him, a worried frown on her face. And for the first time since before Billy's attack in the goat pen, Toni heard Christian laugh. She threw a startled glance up at him, wondering if he'd suffered more serious damage than she'd first imagined.
Without thinking, she raised her left hand and wiggled it before his face. "Are you having trouble focusing, Christian?"
Oh, my God! she thought frantically.
1 can see it now. "Noted Journalist Sues 96-Year-Old Woman over Goat."
"Can you see my hand?" she asked anxiously, "Count my fingers."
Christian dutifully counted off the wiggling digits beneath his nose, still wearing such a silly grin that Toni was convinced he was fast becoming a basket case. "Does that make you happy?" he asked.
Toni regarded him for several seconds, indecision plainly written in her face. "I suppose so," she murmured, then tightened her arm around his waist and urged him forward. "Let's get you inside so Brent can take a look at you."
Instead of doddering along like someone in his condition was supposed to, Christian looped one long arm across her shoulders and proceeded to the entrance as though they were out for a late evening stroll, Toni was about to point out that there was no need for him to hold her so tightly when Brent appeared at the door.
"Ah . . . here you are." Brent smiled, relieving Toni of her burden. "I was about to head out your way and see if you'd had car trouble."
"Sorry," she said tightly as she moved away from Christian's side, "but we didn't get started as soon as I thought we should."
She introduced the two men, then stood back and watched them disappear down a corridor and into an examining room.
As she waited for Brent to examine Christian, Toni alternated between sitting and pacing. She also tried to push to the back of her mind the memory of Christian's arm around her shoulder and the scent of his after-shave, which still lingered on the sleeve of her jacket.
Don't be silly, she lectured herself as she paced. It's pefectly normal to feel some small attraction for the man, darn it. But don't even let yourself think beyond that point. Just hope that whatever business brought him to Natchez can be completed well ahead ofsched- ule, and that he'll soon be on his way. Sometime later she was standing, staring out the window at the parking lot, when she heard the sound of familiar voices.
She turned and saw Brent and Christian, chatting away like long-lost friends. Toni went forward to meet them, her eyes searching the face of the tall figure beside her cousin for some indication of how severely he was injured. Seeing nothing but pair of lazy blue eyes sweeping her from head to
foot, Toni looked back at Brent.
"Well?
Will he live?" she asked, and was immediately ashamed of how harsh the question sounded. Butdamn it! The supposed patient had no business ogling
If Brent was aware of her nervousness, he didn'tshow it. He clapped Christian on the shoulder andgrimmed. "All this fellow needs is a couple of days'
There is a concussion, but it's very slight. Theshot I gave him might make him a little light-headed,to be sure and see that he's settled for the night before
you leave him. I told him I was sure you and Mrs. Dwould be happy to look after him, since there's no one at Cartlaigne to do it."
"Of Course," Toni said faintly. She was relieved that wasn't more serious, but she wasn't looking forward to playing nurse to Christian Barr. With her "duties" for the next few days having been for her, Toni had no choice but to stand by
and listen as Brent and Christian discussed a common interest, passion for fishing!
After being forced to listen to outlandish fish stories for several minutes as Brent eagerly acquainted Christian with each and every body of water within a fifty-mile radius of the city, Toni decided she'd had enough. "Since you guys seem to have so much to talk about, why don't I run along and let you continue this interesting conversation?" She smiled innocently at each of them, then concentrated on Christian. "I'm sure Brent won't mind driving you out to Cartlaigne." But Christian had no intention of letting her off the hook so easily. With practiced ease, he brought the conversation to a halt, apologized to Brent for disturbing him at such a late hour, and was escorting Toni to the car before she had time to do more than give a brief wave of good-bye to her cousin.
"Are you regretting your decision already?" he asked as they began the drive back to Cartlaigne.
Without looking directly at him, Toni could tell that he was very relaxed and that his gaze hadn't left her since they'd gotten into the car.
"What decision is that?" she asked casually, forcing herself to concentrate on her driving rather than the disturbing presence of the man beside her.
"The one you made this afternoon, when you so graciously asked me to let you know if there were any ... er ... repercussions from my encounter with your aunt's goat," he smoothly replied.
"Of course not," Toni said. "After all, you were injured on our property, so it's only fair that we take full responsibility,"
"Does that include round-the-clock nursing?"
Christian asked. Toni shot him a quick, mean look. "Don't press
your luck, Christian. But in case that becomes necessary, Mrs. D has a sister who does private duty."
"Who the hell is Mrs. D? That's the second time I've heard her name mentioned this evening."
"My aunt's housekeeper. She's in her early sixties, and her sister is a couple of years older." Toni threw him a wicked grin. "So please don't worry for a single minute about competent care. Mrs. Henderson is very efficient."
"I just bet she is," he remarked acidly. "But I think,
rather than bother Mrs. Henderson, I'd prefer a younger woman. Perhaps one with dark hair and eyes. A woman who possessess a certain propensity for making things happen. Do you have any idea where I might find such a person?"
Toni kept her eyes glued to the road and the sharp curve they were approaching. But the minute they were on a straight stretch of highway, she was quick to
defend herself.
"I didn't invite you into the goat's pen," she said crossly. "As usual, you were poking your nose where it didn't belong."
"Oh?" Christian asked softly. "Is that what I was doing the morning I stopped your fiance from belting you?"
"Ex-fiance," Toni corrected spiritedly. "And I prefer to think he was merely bluffing."
"Then that shows how little you know about Steven Crowell. Believe me, honey, he hadn't drawn back his hand to caress your cheek," he bluntly reminded her.
"Shall we drop the subject? I find it difficult to believe you came all this way to discuss my relationship with Steven."
"That's partly true. But what would you say if I were to tell you that I chose Natchez because I knew you would be here?"
"I think I'd probably ask how you knew my travel plans," Toni replied with outward calm. Inwardly she was seething. Just who the hell did he think he was? And how dare he assume that, for whatever real reason there was behind his appearance next door, she would be impressed by such a ridiculous statement as he'd just made.
"That's simple, Antonia," he said unhesitatingly. "Your friend Connie was eager to fill me in on all the details regarding your family and your affection for your aunt. Once she told me the names of the present owners of Cartlaigne, and I realized they were old friends of mine who own a chain of newspapers, leasing the house became quite simple."
"Sounds as though Connie was as informative as an encyclopedia," Toni said, frowning.
"Only because I told her that I wanted to get to know you better," Christian said pleasantly. "I find I'm intrigued by the excitement that seems to surround you," he added.
And in spite of herself, Toni grinned. "Are you certain you're physically up to 'getting to know me better?' " she asked as they approached the entrance to Cartlaigne. "I mean, look at what's happened so far. You were almost involved in a brawl, you were attacked by a dog—a small one, but nevertheless a dog —and you suffered a slight concussion at the hands— or rather head—of my aunt's goat."
She parked the car at the side entrance, switched off the ignition, then turned her head and stared intently at him. "If I were you, Christian, I do believe I'd reconsider. For a man of your age and reputation, not to
mention your obvious lack of stamina, a really dedicated pursuit of me might prove fatal."
In the dim lighting of the confined space, Christian met the rather amused and, at the same time, derisive glint in Toni's eyes with his own determined gaze. He'd known since the first moment he saw her that he would get to know her better.
Admittedly, the events that followed hadn't exactly gone as he'd first planned. Toni's departure from Richmond had come as a complete surprise to him. But he had already decided to take six months or so off to think about changes in his career, and he hadn't had any definite travel plans in mind, so choosing Natchez had been an easy enough thing to do.
That decision had been helped along by taking Connie to dinner. During the course of the evening Christian had learned the reason for Toni's breakup with Steven Crowell and that she had relatives in Natchez. When Connie, eager to acquaint him with each tiny scrap of information regarding Toni, mentioned that the present owner of Cartlaigne was the son of a publishing tycoon and that the house was vacant, Christian took care of the matter from that point on.
Now here he was, sitting next to a pixie-eyed minx who'd stayed in his thoughts for days. To add insult to injury, there was about as much welcome reflected in her voice and in the dark pools of her eyes as he imagined her ancestors felt when the Yankees had invaded Cartlaigne over a hundred years ago.
Not only was she not overjoyed to see him, she'd actually had the nerve to cast aspersions upon him, his manhood, and the reputation to which he'd devoted so much time and effort.
It was a slight fidgeting from his pint-size chauffeur that caused Christian to break the tense silence. "Don't let my past 'failings' worry you, Antonia." He smiled thinly. "When I decide to pursue a lady, I always make a point of fortifying myself with all sorts of vitamins. I have to consider my age, you see. My companions are never disappointed, and neither will you be."
"You're ridiculous," Toni said flatly, unable to believe the incredible gall of the man.
"No." Christian sighed. "At the moment I'm just injured. Not only is my head pounding like crazy, but that shot is beginning to make me feel a little dizzy."
Toni wanted desperately to run to the safety of the cottage, but she knew she ought to see Christian safely inside his own place.
"Can you walk or do you need me to help you?" she finally asked after several
seconds of soul-searching.
Christian shrugged. "If you'll lend me a hand, I would appreciate it."
Telling herself that it was the shot that caused Christian to talk the way he did, Toni opened the door and hurried around to the passenger side to assist him.
"Just slip an arm across my shoulders," she told him as she caught him tight around the waist and tried to compensate for the almost comical disparity in their heights. "Walk slowly, and please be careful of the steps," she cautioned. "They'll be slippery as glass from the dew."
"You're such a tiny thing," he said, smiling down at her. "Are you sure you can get me up to the porch?" With that question, his arm about her shoulders tightened and Toni found herself glued to his side.
His touch seemed to burn right through her clothes and sear her skin from shoulder to thigh. At her at-
tempt to lessen the body contact, Christian swayed dangerously, and Toni found herself clutching him and holding on for dear life.
"I should have called Brent out here," she said worriedly after getting the two of them standing upright again and lined up with the wide steps. "That shot made you as drunk as a Bourbon Street bum."
"But it's gotten you in my arms ... or rather me in yours, hasn't it?" He grinned crookedly. Before Toni could do more than stare helplessly up at him, he dipped his head and delivered a loud, smacking kiss that landed on the side of her nose. "Oops." He chortled. "My vitamins are working, but my aim is off."
"Cute," Toni remarked disgustedly as she led, pushed, and tugged him toward the porch and up the steps. "Other people are sitting by a cozy fire reading a good book or watching their favorite TV show. Me? I'm having to deal with a drunken maniac who can't hit his behind with both hands, but who's still trying to retain the crown of Mr. Playboy!"
"Tsk, tsk." Christian grinned wickedly and wagged a long, square-tipped finger beneath her nose. "Just because ol' Steven didn't come through for you doesn't mean all men are duds."
"I can't tell you how reassuring that bit of information is, Christian. It really warms my heart." Toni glared at him. She maneuvered him so that he was
standing with his back to the wall beside the door,then placed a palm flat against his chest with the terse order to "Stay put." She held out her other hand. "I
need the key."
"Forget the damn key," he muttered as he reached out with both arms and pulled her to him. "I want to kiss you."
Toni thoughtfully nibbled at one comer of her bottom lip as she stared up at him. The entire situation was ridiculous and had become rather comical. For the life of her, she found herself unable to stay mad at him. "Don't you ever give up?" she asked, struggling to keep from laughing.