Authors: Emilie Richards
“What happened?” she asked.
“I got in the way of somebody’s fork in the commissary.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It taught me to duck.”
“That’s a skill you’ve needed, isn’t it?”
The skin under his eyes was softer, folding slightly but only just. She had always thought he would be equally handsome as an old man because he had strong bones and character written over them. He had aged, just as she had, but his face still felt timeless.
“Is your hair as light as it was?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did it turn brown?”
“I guess I don’t stand at the mirror and evaluate.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” She moved her fingers higher, tracing the broad sweep of his forehead. His hair brushed the backs of her fingers. He had always worn the top just long enough that he could plow it back when he was anxious. She wondered if he even realized he did it.
At last, with a sigh, she cupped her hands behind his head. “Just the way I pictured you. Except for the scar.”
“You’re finished?”
“Yes.”
“You know me again?”
“I’ve known you forever.”
“Do you know how badly I want you?”
“As badly as I want you.”
“Protection was the last thing on my mind this morning when I set off for the hunt.”
She pulled him closer. “I’m on the pill. We’re safe until we don’t want to be anymore.”
“Jules…”
“Have I told you how good I’ve become at doing things by the sheer feel?”
“It’s a good thing you didn’t. You were driving me crazy as it was.”
“I’m going to take off your sweater. Hold up your arms. Admire my prowess.” She slipped her hands under the hem and, with one deft twist, pulled it over his head. She could feel the firm muscles of his chest under thin cotton. She tugged the shirt from his jeans and slid her hands under it. The hayloft was cool, but Christian’s skin was not. She could feel his muscles bunch and his nipples tighten. He groaned.
She rolled to her side, and he went with her until he was on his back and she was lying half on top of him. “Next the shirt. I’m particularly good with buttonholes.”
“Not good or fast enough.”
“No? Are we in a hurry?”
“Some things never change.”
She smiled. “Like your impatience?”
“Like your ability to make me come apart at the seams.”
“Right now it’s your shirt that’s going to come apart. Only a shirt.”
“You’ll be lucky if that’s all.”
She finished the last button. “I think we’re both going to be lucky.”
As she spread her hands against his chest, he pulled her down and kissed her hard. Then he held her away. “I love you.”
“Oh…” Tears filled her eyes. “I am so grateful…after everything, that you do. That you still can.”
This time there was no way to tell who initiated the kiss. It was anything but subdued or gentle. Julia might have trained herself to accomplish things by feel, but Christian’s instincts compensated for any skill he lacked.
“I want to let you play,” he said, the words harsh and pulled from somewhere deeper than his throat. “I want to take it slow. But I need you now.”
“Now is wonderful.” She stripped off her windbreaker and tossed it over her head.
They fought the rest of their clothing as if each piece was a sworn enemy. His shirt, her turtleneck, the lacy scrap of bra that kept her breasts from sinking against his chest. Jeans and boots took longer, but nothing was too difficult. Not now, when so many years had kept them apart and they had found their way back together at last.
She had never forgotten how right it felt to have his skin hot against hers, his weight pressing against her, her body sleek and sinuous over his. His lips slid over hers, again and again, teasing and probing until she captured them and opened for him, tongue thrusting against tongue. Under him again, her hips rose to meet his, but he turned to his side, pulling her with him.
His tone was harsh with self-denial. “I want this to last forever, but I don’t want it to last another minute.”
“You don’t have to take your time. We’ll have time from now on. We’ll have all we need.” She trapped him against her with one leg, sliding it over his hip until he was as close as he could be without entering her. He was hot and hard against her and about to explode. It was a mark of enormous self-restraint that he had lasted this long. She reached down and took him inside her.
He groaned and turned her to her back. And he lasted just long enough to return the pleasure she so obviously gave him.
Wrapped in extra blankets, they ate cold hamburgers. Christian thought he’d never tasted anything so fine. As they’d made love, he’d been haunted by the fear that Julia was taking pity on him, offering her body as solace, perhaps. Now, looking at the same triumphant smile Eve had aimed at Adam, he knew it hadn’t been pity nor comfort nor even something she’d indulged in for old times’ sake.
The mother of his child loved him.
“I’m moving back to Ashbourne for good,” she said, licking her fingers in lieu of a napkin. “We’ll be neighbors again. Will you sneak over and see me like you used to?”
“I might not even sneak. I might just ride over in broad daylight.”
“I’ll be that infamous divorcée and Bard will be the wronged husband. Can you afford the scandal?”
“Scandal is my middle name.”
“Then I’ll be perfect for you.”
Christian knew they would take things slowly. They hadn’t talked about it yet, but he knew how important it was to get things right this time. They had Callie to think about. He could content himself looking forward to a future that seemed, now, almost certain. But right now he had to be honest.
“Bard led me to Robby. He told me I was as blind in my way as you were in yours. He meant for me to figure it out.” He told her the gist of the conversation with Bard and the way Bard’s words had finally opened his eyes.
“It’s nice to know he was capable of that much honesty, but it doesn’t change a thing,” she said.
“I’ll resign as huntsman,” Christian said. “I won’t have time for it anymore.”
“I’m sorry I never got to see you hunt the hounds.” Her smile faltered. “But I guess I’m not sorry I wasn’t there today when you did.”
“I’m glad you weren’t.”
“Everything has changed so fast. Some of it wonderful.” She held out her hand, and he took it. “Some of it so terrible. Will you really be able to live here?”
“I have an idea for the future. Do you want to hear it?”
“You know it.”
“When I was at Ludwell I saw what a difference Pets and Prisoners made for the men who were picked to work in the program. Reverend Petersen always tries to find them jobs when they get out, but it’s not easy getting employers to take ex-cons. I’m going to see about starting an extension program here. Something simple, at first. Just a place for parolees to come when they’re released, the good guys, the ones with potential.” He thought about Javier and Timbo. With the right kind of help, both men had a shot at changing their lives.
“And what would you do for them?”
“They’d have a job and a place to stay, some training to help them move ahead. But down the road a little, maybe we could phase in the next part of the Pets and Prisoners agenda. As prisoners, we never got to see the guide dogs go on to their new homes or help train the new owners. Maybe we could do that here.”
“This is ambitious. And you just thought of it?”
“No, I’ve thought about it ever since Bertha came to visit. I was trying to think of a way to broach it with Peter. Now I don’t have to.”
“You know it’s going to be controversial in town, don’t you?”
He grinned. “Yeah.”
She smiled, too. “I love it.”
“We have ex-cons working in the horse world. With this setup, we’ll just know who they are for a change.”
“Don’t let Maisy get wind of it. She’ll move the program to Ashbourne and take it over. She’ll bake the guys cookies, counsel their wives about birth control and make sure all their children’s immunizations are up-to-date.”
“She’s hired.”
“You know, that’s not such a bad idea.”
He filed that away for another time. “You have hay in your hair.”
“That’s the disadvantage of being blind. I can’t respond in kind.” She sobered. “Christian, there’s no guarantee my sight will ever return. You know that, don’t you? You’d better take that into consideration when you…”
“When I what?”
“When you sneak around with me.”
“I’ll take you any way I can get you, Jules.”
The Eve smile reappeared. Her blanket slipped from one shoulder. She lifted a brow. “Is that a promise, or are you just taunting me?”
“I keep my promises.”
“Do you remember promising me a little while ago that we could play a little, when the time was right?”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe we really can learn to play again. Maybe we can learn to be young again. Starting now.”
He tossed his hamburger wrapper into the hay. And he made sure he kept his word.
Christian kissed Julia good-night in front of a silent house. The front light was on, but there were no sounds from inside the cottage. On the porch she listened to Night Ranger’s hoofbeats die away before she went inside.
“I was hoping that was you.”
Julia closed the front door quietly before she faced her mother. She’d been certain Maisy would wait up for her. “Please don’t be mad I didn’t call again.”
“I know what happened. I’ve had half a dozen messages from Mosby members. And Bard called to tell me you were at the sheriff’s office. Christian?”
“He’s free, and he’s going to be fine. How much do you know?”
“More than I can absorb. I can’t believe Robby killed Fidelity. It’s going to take some time to get used to all of it.”
“I bet you didn’t hear that Peter left Claymore Park to Christian.”
Maisy didn’t speak. Julia knew she was in shock.
“Did Callie get home all right?” Julia said.
“About an hour ago. She was exhausted.”
“Maisy, may we stay here a little longer, Callie and I? At least until we find a place of our own. I’ve told Bard to get a divorce. He’ll be efficient and quick.”
“This is your home. Ashbourne belongs to you.”
“I thought I could count on the future, but I know better now.”
“When you and Christian are ready, you’ll find your happy ending. I believe it deep in my heart. I’m a romantic. I guess I never stopped believing.”
“Do you really think so? I want to believe that more than anything. After all this…sadness.”
“I believe it.”
They stood facing each other. Julia stretched out her hand, and Maisy took it. “We’ve reached the end of your book, haven’t we?”
Maisy didn’t seem surprised at the change of subject; then she, of all people, realized that the subject had actually stayed very much the same. “There’s only the final chapter.”
“I’m ready to hear it.”
“Are you? It’s been one of the roughest days of your life, sweetheart. The ending will keep.”
“I need you to finish it. Tonight. Please.”
“We’ll sit by the fire. Everyone else is asleep upstairs.” Maisy put her arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Would you like to change into your nightgown while I make tea?”
Julia nodded. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Julia found her mother’s cheek and kissed it. “I think you’ve waited a long time already.”
I
begged Ian not to make Alice ride Duchess that day. She had taken one look at the pony and fled to her room. I had hoped our confessions of the past evening would mellow him. But, of course, they’d done the opposite. He was angry anew, angry that he had let down his guard, angry that I had witnessed the most vulnerable part of him.
As I pleaded with him to reconsider, he barely looked at me. “We will do this quickly,” he said. “You will get her now, or I will. The sooner she sees there’s nothing to fear, the better.”
“Ian, please. Let her get used to Duchess slowly.”
“I’ll get her, then.”
I didn’t know where to turn. The stable staff had discreetly disappeared at the first hint of raised voices. Ian strode toward the house, and I ran after him and grabbed his sleeve.
“Ian, are you trying to make her hate you? Is that what you want? For both of us to hate you?”
He stopped, and his eyes were cold. “I am the man of this house, Louisa. I know what’s best for Alice.”
“You don’t have to prove anything to her or me or anyone else. She’s just a little girl. She only wants to love you.”
“I understand what you’re trying to do to me.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I just want—”
He shook off my hand. “You want me to be less of a man. That’s what all women want, isn’t it? Well, you can’t have your way. I’m in charge here. You’d better remember it from this moment forward. Because I won’t…I won’t…”
His eyes began to glaze over in a way that was growing familiar. I knew another headache—brought on by his anger—was beginning. I turned and ran toward the house, determined to get Alice and take her to Sweetwater until Ian was calmer. He would make her ride Duchess eventually, but perhaps I could delay until he had less to prove.
When we emerged, Ian was waiting for us, white and shaken but capable of movement and determined.
“I’ll take our daughter.”
“Please. Why don’t you wait until you’re feeling stronger? We’ll go down to the stable and visit Duchess together. Maybe Alice can feed her an apple.”
He held out his arms. I could hand over Alice as if I approved, or I could continue making a fuss and upset her further. He solved the problem by wrenching her from my arms.
“Go into the house. You’ll make this more difficult.”
“It doesn’t have to be difficult at all. Please—”
He turned and started toward the ring where Duchess was saddled. Alice began to whimper, but he ignored her. He didn’t speak to her or try to calm her in any way. When she began to struggle, he shook her hard. She cried out, and he shook her again.
“Stop it, Ian. You’re going to hurt her!”
He stopped, but only to push me away. I fell to the ground, and by the time I’d picked myself up, he was inside the ring.
“Don’t come inside,” he warned. “I won’t be responsible for what happens if you do.”
I was as chilled by his tone as his words. I had done everything wrong, so far. If I hadn’t intervened. If I hadn’t argued.
If I hadn’t married him.
Yet there he stood, our daughter in his arms. His only child. His legacy.
He lifted Alice to Duchess’s back and settled her in the saddle. She was as pale as a summer cloud, and she was sobbing softly.
“Why are you crying?” he demanded. “Tell me why!”
“I fall…I fall…”
“So? What if you do? It won’t kill you, Alice. Is that all that’s worrying you?”
Her eyes were huge and terrified. “I…fall…” She held out her arms to him.
My heart nearly stopped as he lifted her from the saddle. But he didn’t hold her close. He didn’t comfort her. He didn’t reassure her. He simply dropped her to the ground. She landed in a heap at his feet. “There, see? Falling is nothing. Falling won’t hurt you.”
She was sobbing in earnest now. She scooted away from him, but he picked her up, held her higher this time and dropped her to the ground once more.
“Ian, stop it! Stop it or I’ll get the grooms to stop you.”
He laughed. “What will you tell them? That you don’t like the way I’m teaching my daughter to ride? I’m the best horseman in the county.” He bent and scooped a screaming Alice from the ground, held her higher and this time threw her to the ground.
I started inside the ring, determined to stop him. The ground was soft from a light rainfall, but Alice was small and delicate. I knew she could be hurt. Worse, I knew that even if her body survived unscathed, she would never forget this terrible ordeal. I grabbed his arm when he lifted her again, but he struck me hard enough to send me flying. Then he set Alice on the pony, and before I could stop him, he knocked her off the saddle and to the ground once again.
I was screaming for help by that time, but no one came. I was a woman, after all, a notoriously hysterical creature.
“We’ll leave you, Ian! Stop this, or we’ll leave you.”
“You can’t and you won’t. And if you manage it somehow, I’ll find you and take Alice. I have the money and the power to do it, and don’t forget it.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“If you don’t get out of here,” Ian warned me through gritted teeth, “I won’t be responsible for what happens to her. Do you hear me?”
“Please…Please stop this!”
He hit me again as I tried to reach my daughter. Alice held out her arms to me, but there was nothing I could do. As I fought him, he lifted and threw her again. Farther and with more force. And finally I knew that if I didn’t leave the ring, he would kill her.
He would kill his daughter to prove he was as much a man as his father had been.
I backed away, horrified.
“Better, Louisa,” he said, scooping Alice from the ground. “But not good enough.”
I ran to the gate and outside, closing it behind me.
“To the house, Louisa.”
Behind me, I heard Alice’s screams. I ran as fast as I could, praying my departure would stop the violence. By the time I reached the house the screams had stopped.
But not until he brought my sobbing, battered daughter inside at last, did I know for sure whether the screams had ended because Ian had stopped throwing her to the ground or because Alice was dead.
He insisted we go riding that afternoon, despite a cold, heavy wind from the north. Ian on Shadow Dancer, I on Crossfire, Alice on Duchess. He assured me this was just the thing to put the unfortunate morning behind us and to show me how wrong I had been. Alice had not spoken since coming inside. When I told her we were going for a ride she simply stared at me. I knew there was no reasoning with Ian. If I resisted, we might well have another horrifying scene.
I spoke softly to my daughter as I dressed her for the ride. “We won’t go far. And Duchess is a good pony, sweetheart. I’ll be right beside you.”
She looked up at me with an expression I had never seen on her face. Then she turned away from me. She would not be comforted.
She was surprisingly quiet when Ian lifted her to the pony’s back.
“See?” He stood back and sent a smile that chilled me to the bone.
“You’ve only proved that you’re bigger than she is and stronger. Nothing else.”
“She’ll do well to remember it.”
“How could she not? You’ll never let either of us forget it.”
I was beyond caring if he hit me, but he just shrugged and helped me mount Crossfire; then he followed suit on Shadow Dancer.
Ian led the way, riding ahead at a gallop, then riding back or stopping to let us catch up with him when necessary. Because of the weather, we couldn’t go far. We headed toward the river, to the area of our farm where we had hunted last. Although the wind howled, the ride was relatively easy, and I prayed it would be short.
Shadow Dancer hadn’t been exercised that morning, and spirited was a tame word for his behavior. As we neared the river, Ian took several jumps, going back and forth across them to take the edge off his mount’s considerable energy. The horse seemed frightened by the wind, his ears flat and his nostrils wide. Ian controlled him with some difficulty.
I concentrated on my beloved daughter, encouraging and helping her when I could. I knew from her expression that she had moved beyond fear to something worse. Annie had told me of coming across a rabbit in a trap as a child. I knew how it must have looked before Paul Symington set it free.
“We’ll do these rides often,” Ian said, coming back once again as we neared the river. “Our picture-perfect little family.” Irony dripped from his words. “Alice, sit up straighter!”
She jerked upright, her eyes widening.
“Leave her alone.” I rode closer, leaving Alice just behind me. “Haven’t you done enough damage for one day? She’s here. She’s riding Duchess. What more do you want?”
“I want a son. But since I can’t have one, I want a daughter who doesn’t snivel or whine.”
“She is already too good to be your daughter!”
Fury clouded his features. There are some words that penetrate straight to the marrow, that leave scars so deep they can never be ignored again.
I had found them.
Ian lifted his crop. I knew he meant to bring it down across my shoulders. But before he could, a groan was wrenched from his throat. His body locked into position, and he stared straight ahead.
Shadow Dancer, sensing the change in his rider, began to dance beneath him. The wind already had him on edge, and Ian’s sudden loss of control spurred him on.
I was torn for a moment, watching him fight his bit; then I dismounted. Shadow Dancer edged away from me as I approached. I tried to soothe him, but he pranced nervously farther and farther from me until, at last, I lunged for his reins. The leather slid across my gloved palms, blistering them, but I held on.
Ian’s crop fell to the ground, and the reins fell from his hands. He lifted his hands to his head, aware, in spite of his agony, of what was happening. Shadow Dancer backed away, half rearing as he did, and finally Ian, consciously or perhaps only instinctively, managed to grab for his mane.
I heard Alice cry out behind me. It was a sound I had heard too many times. The sound of my terrified daughter. But I couldn’t take my eyes off Ian. I fought Shadow Dancer, who reared once more. As he came down, precariously close to my feet, I scooped Ian’s crop from the ground.
I dropped the reins, and as my husband watched helplessly, I snapped the crop hard against Shadow Dancer’s left flank. He took off through the woods in a panic, and as I stared at what I had done, Shadow Dancer sailed over the four-rail jump to the bank of Fox River. Ian landed in a crumpled heap at the edge of the bank as Shadow Dancer galloped away. From his position I like to think Ian died quickly, that his neck snapped and he never knew what had happened to him.
But I remember the expression on my husband’s face when he realized what I was about to do. I wonder, sometimes, if I imagined the faintest flicker of relief in his eyes. The knowledge that the fight inside him had ended at last.
I’ll never know. Like many women, I am not above seeing things that aren’t there. Perhaps, from the beginning, I saw things in Ian Sebastian that never existed. But perhaps they did after all.
I put Alice in the saddle with me and led Duchess home through the woods. We traveled slowly, since I wasn’t sure Ian was really dead. I knew that I would tell our staff he had decided to ride farther by himself and should be home by suppertime. I didn’t want a search party looking for him until dark. I wanted to give my husband enough time to die.
Alice didn’t speak for weeks, not at Ian’s funeral, where he was praised by all who knew him. Not afterward, as I sold Duchess, then Ian’s horses, one by one until none was left, not even Crossfire, who was a gift to Etta Carrolton.
When Alice began to speak again, it was never of her father. It was as if Ian had never existed for her. As for me, I removed as many signs of Ian Sebastian’s existence as I could. I posted Fox River Farm and forbade anyone to hunt there again; then I took an extended trip to Chicago with Alice to see my dear Annie, who was recovering at last.
I didn’t tell Annie what I had done, but I think she suspected. She asked me to stay on in Chicago, to abandon Fox River Farm to its ghosts and sorrows.
But, oddly, I could not.
There are autumn mornings now when I awaken early to the sound of foxhounds in the distance. As I stare at the ceiling I can almost feel the frost-tinged air, the exhilaration of the chase, the moments of flight on the back of a great white horse.
I can see the Master of the Hunt on a proud black stallion, waiting to scoop me into his arms and our fairy-tale life.
I rise, and I go into the next room to see if the hounds have awakened the master’s daughter. She is always awake, sitting up in bed, waiting for me to soothe her.
I will be there for Alice as I could not be for her father.
Always.