The little girl stared at him, baby-blue eyes wide, her usually smooth forehead crinkled, her gaze so . . . hurt, he couldn’t stop himself. “Of course I’ll join you for tea.”
She gave him her brightest smile, then grabbed his hand and led him toward the gypsy wagon. A canvas had been stretched from the side where it met the roof and extended outward to two slim poles stuck in the ground to shade a small table. He spotted Thomas slouched in one of the chairs as he drew closer, looking like a thundercloud had settled over his head. How long he’d been sitting there, waiting, Eamon hadn’t a clue, but he certainly didn’t look happy.
The table had been set with a miniature tea set made of white porcelain and decorated with tiny green ivy leaves. The girl had spared no expense on her guests as there were plates with Marianne’s blueberry muffins as well as some of the almond cake left over from dessert last night. Despite himself, Eamon’s mouth watered. He was a bit hungry . . . plus, he’d developed a fondness for Marianne’s almond cake—kuchen, as she called it—a traditional German cake she’d learned how to make from one of their neighbors. It was almost as good as her strawberry rhubarb pie.
“Glad to see you here, Thomas,” he greeted the boy as he approached, but Thomas merely rolled his eyes, the epitome of little boy boredom, and continued to twiddle his thumbs. He made no comment, though his expression spoke of long suffering. Apparently, this wasn’t his first tea party. Nor would it likely be his last.
Eamon thought of offering the young boy some advice, but decided against it. Truly, what could he say? At almost ten years old, Thomas didn’t understand being more or less forced to participate in a children’s tea party but he’d learn as he grew older that there were many things a man did in the name of love and kindness. Eamon kept his mouth closed and gingerly sat in one of the too small chairs, his knees coming up to nearly hit him in the chin.
“You can hold Mandy,” Gabby informed him as she handed him her doll, indicating that he should hold her in his lap. Then she pointed at his hat. “And you have to take that off. It’s proper.”
Eamon did as he was told. He propped the doll against his stomach as best he could in his current awkward position, then removed his hat. Finding no other place to put it, he fitted his knee into the hole where his head should have been. Thomas grinned at him with an expression that seemed to say “I told you so” before his gaze darted past Eamon.
Eamon turned in his uncomfortable seat in time to see Charlotte, a fancy, too big hat with flowing feathers on her head, lead both Wynn and Lou toward the gypsy wagon. He heard a snippet of conversation and grinned as well. He couldn’t help himself. Apparently, neither Lou nor Wynn thought they had the time for this impromptu tea party, but neither boy could say no. The last to arrive was Quincy. He took a seat next to Eamon—he, too, with his knees nearly to his chin as Gabby poured tea and Charlotte passed around the plate with the muffins.
“Sorry I’m late, Princess Gabby, Princess Charlotte, but the queen needed my assistance,” Quincy said, falling easily into make-believe, which made it clear the tea party was just one of many and all the males in the family participated, whether they had time or not.
Charlotte, with a regal air of indifference, and for once, not the least bit shy, gave a slight nod. “You are forgiven, Sir Knight.”
Quincy took off his hat and made himself comfortable. Eamon grinned at him. “Sir Knight?”
The man shrugged. “It makes them happy and doesn’t hurt me any. Doesn’t hurt any of us.” His eyes flickered to the doll in Eamon’s lap, and an eyebrow rose before his lips parted into a huge smile. “It’s a nice break in the day.” He placed a blueberry muffin on his plate and passed the platter along. “Plus, it gives me a chance to have another one of Marianne’s muffins.” He took a bite and a look of pure pleasure crossed his face. After chewing for a moment, he swallowed, then said, “Take a minute and enjoy this, Eamon. It’ll be the last moment of relaxation for a bit. The horse breeders will be here either tomorrow or the next day, and then you’ll be wishing for a tea party.”
• • •
“I thought you could use a cool drink and a short break.”
Theo jumped and whirled around, a dust rag in her hand, as Marianne entered one of the bedroom suites on the third floor.
“You didn’t come down for lunch, and dinner won’t be for another two hours or so.” She carried a small tray with a sandwich, a piece of almond kuchen, and a glass of something cold—Theo distinctly heard ice tinkling. She rested the tray on the bureau, then picked up the glass and moved across the room. “And there’s something you have to see.”
Theo took the lemonade Marianne handed her and swallowed half of it without coming up for air. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was. Or how warm. Perspiration beaded on her forehead and trickled between her breasts to soak her corset and chemise. She’d been on the third floor, cleaning the bedroom suites since right after breakfast and had worked through lunch. She should have hired some help for the task, but she didn’t want the extra expense. Money was still a little tight. Although she had managed to pay off all Henry’s debts, her budget did not include employing anyone else to help with the breeding season. This year was better than the last though. She had definite confirmation from five of the breeders, one maybe, and a few requests from people who simply wanted to take a look at her stock.
A little hard work never killed anyone, and besides, she was almost finished. She just needed to shake the dust from the rag rug and sweep the floor, and this last room would be done. She could take a well-deserved break then and perhaps sit down for a minute or two. She finished the lemonade in another two gulps. “What did you want to show me?”
Marianne beckoned her toward the open window, pushed aside the lacy curtains, and pointed toward the gypsy wagon just to the left of the barn. Theo peeked outside and her heart fluttered as her gaze came to rest on Eamon. She could see him quite clearly as he sat at the small table beneath the canvas awning. She could also see Quincy, but not the boys, though she was certain they were there as well. Charlotte and Gabby flitted into her line of vision, pouring tea and passing out muffins, then moved away to serve the others, affording her an unobstructed view of Eamon.
She couldn’t help smiling. In his lap, he had one of Gabby’s dolls, and in his hand, he held the handle of a tiny teacup between thumb and forefinger—pinky out as Charlotte or Gabby had probably instructed—and laughed. The sound carried. She had never heard him laugh before, and her heart melted. Such a carefree, happy sound, that laughter.
“They’ve been out there for quite some time.” The corners of Marianne’s mouth tilted upward as she grinned. “I think they’re going to be there for a while longer. Charlotte just came in for more tea.”
There was something special about the male species willing to spend some time at a little girl’s tea party.
As if he felt her watching him, Eamon turned. Theo held her breath as his gaze scanned the house and finally came to rest on her like a gentle caress. A whirlwind of sensations rippled through her from that simple look. Desire burst into a full-blown conflagration so quickly she thought she could incinerate on the spot. Need made her heart thump harder, made her knees weak. She wanted him. Right now. Right this minute.
“Theo!”
Theo shook herself and forced her gaze away from him, difficult though it was, and turned her attention to Marianne. “What?”
“My goodness, Theo. One would think you’d never seen a handsome man before.”
The warmth of a blush infused her face. Indeed, her entire body felt flushed. “What are you talking about?”
The woman shrugged, her warm amber eyes twinkling with . . . what? Happiness? Mischief? Had she and Granny been talking? “Just that I had to call your name four times before you finally answered me.” She glanced out the window and shrugged again. “I will admit he’s attractive, but not nearly as much as my Quincy.” She chuckled as she turned her attention away from the tabl
eau outside and pinned Theo with her stare. “You should . . . no, never mind.”
“I should what?”
She tilted her head slightly and grinned, her eyes still sparkling with a sentiment Theo couldn’t name. She grabbed Theo’s hand and squeezed gently. “Follow your heart, wherever that may lead.” There was more she wanted to say—her mouth opened and closed several times before she shrugged one last time, released Theo’s hand, and moved away from the window. She pointed to the tray on the bureau. “Don’t forget to eat.” She grinned again as she left the room.
Theo watched her, then turned her attention back to the window. Eamon still studied her, the corners of his mouth turned up into a silly grin.
A new thought exploded in her head and she struggled for air, her hand flying up to her chest to rest over her heart. Had Marianne just given her permission to take Eamon MacDermott as her lover? Or was it permission for something more? She just didn’t know, and it was so unlike her to be this unsure. She hadn’t been this uncertain with Henry. She’d known exactly what she wanted, though she hadn’t acted right away. It had still taken a long time for her to show him what she’d been feeling.
And look at all the time I wasted. Not this time. I don’t have to wait.
Tonight? Could she sneak out of the house and bravely knock upon his door? She had come close to doing that once before, hesitated, and lost her chance.
Not this time. Theo stepped away from the window, pulled the rag rug from the floor and shoved it into the hallway, and then picked up the broom and swept, the sandwich and kuchen forgotten in her rush to get things done. She grabbed the rug, slung it over her shoulder, and went downstairs.
“Did you eat?” Marianne asked as Theo cut through the kitchen.
“Not yet.”
By the time she got outside and hung the rug over the clothesline, the tea party had broken up—the only evidence there had been a tea party at all was Mandy the doll sitting, forlorn and forgotten, in a chair, her bandaged leg stretched out. The small table had been cleared and the adults had gone back to their chores, but she could hear the children laughing on the other side of the barn. Granny, bless her heart, had finally stopped digging in the dirt . . . for now. She wasn’t finished for the day because her little garden spade and straw basket were still in the rows between the melons and the beans.
Theo shook her head as she straightened the edges of the rug, then picked up the rattan rug beater. Before she could take the first swing, the distinct sound of carriage wheels rolling over her hard-packed-dirt drive drew her attention. She stepped away from her chore to see Hart Jameson, the first of the horse breeders and a very dear friend, drive around the corner of the house into the barnyard. Two stocky, well-built men followed in a buckboard with his trunks and other baggage. Theo recognized the Collier brothers and gave a nod in their direction. They would be engaged to bring the rest of the breeders when they arrived as they’d done for several years. A pretty white mare with a nearly black mane and tail walked sedately behind the wagon, looking none the worse for wear after her long journey from Kentucky, where Hart lived.
As happy as Theo was to see him, she realized two things immediately. She was a dirty, sweaty, smelly mess—she had been cleaning most of the morning and afternoon and hadn’t had a moment to bathe—and her plans to seduce Eamon just flew out the proverbial window. Finding a moment alone with him while the horsemen were here would be next to impossible.
With a sigh of defeat, she laid the rug beater on the small table beside the clothesline and went to greet her guest.
“Theo, my love, it’s been a long time!” As handsome as ever in a tan suit that brought out the honey brown of his eyes, Hart jumped from the carriage and grabbed her in one smooth motion. Theo squealed as he swung her around.
“Hart! Put me down! I’m dirty, and I’m getting you dirty, too!”
“And I don’t care! Even with dirt on your face, you’re still the prettiest girl I’ve ever known!” He gave her another squeeze, then let her down, although she could tell it was with great reluctance. He didn’t release his hold on her even though she stood on her own two feet, but he did loosen his grip a bit, his hands loosely clasped behind her back while she rested her hands on his shoulders.
“You’re early. I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”
“I couldn’t wait to see you, sugar. Give your old friend Hart a kiss hello.” Still holding her, he presented the smooth-shaven side of his face to her. Theo obliged, drawing a huge smile from him, his eyes shimmering with a touch of naughtiness. “When are you going to marry me and make me a happy man? I’ve been waiting for you a long time, my sweet.”
Theo took the proposal for what it was—a greeting between old friends. Hart wasn’t serious. He never was. At least, she didn’t think his proposal was genuine as he asked her the same question whenever they met and had been doing so since before she married Henry . . . and even after. He’d probably never marry, and as much as she loved him as a friend, she had never had any romantic thoughts toward him. She shrugged and shook her head. “You’ll just have to pine away for me.”
“Oh, so that’s the way of it.” He grinned, reminding her of what a jokester he’d always been, a man who lived by his charm with never a serious thought to mar his play, but then his smile disappeared and the mischievous spark in his eyes faded as his expression became most sober. He took a step back and held her at arm’s length, the intensity of his scrutiny making her a bit nervous. “How are you really, Theo?”
Touched by the rare show of true tenderness, Theo swallowed the lump that suddenly sprang into her throat. It took her a moment to find her voice, but when she finally did speak, there was strength and truth in her words. “I’m good, Hart.”
“You’re sure now? You’re not telling me a fib because you think it’s what I want to hear?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” She still missed Henry and would probably always miss him, but the pain of his loss wasn’t nearly as devastating now. Over time, she’d become accustomed to the idea he wasn’t ever coming back and though that was true, she was still here, still alive, and needed to live her life. That realization had taken a long time to come, even longer to accept. And yes, there were times when she was overcome with guilt . . . especially when she harbored brazen, fanciful thoughts for Eamon.
Hart continued studying her, his gaze roaming over her face until, finally, his smile returned and he released her. He gave a slight nod as the impish glow came back into his eyes. “I believe you. There are roses in your cheeks, and your smile isn’t nearly as sad as it used to be. In fact, you look happy and, for that, I am grateful, but if there should ever come a time when you need me, all you have to do is ask. I promised Henry that I’d always be there for you and I fully intend to keep that promise.”
Again, the truth in his words touched her. “Thank you, Hart.” She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and walked with him the few paces toward the buckboard. “Let’s get you settled.”
She greeted the Colliers, then directed the burly men to bring the trunks up to the Rose Room on the third floor, so named because of the huge painting of Granny’s roses on the wall, and the best suite in the house.
“This is Gloriana,” Hart said as he untied the horse’s reins and brought the mare forward. “She’s as fast as the wind and as sweet as can be. Won every race I’ve entered her in, just like Henry’s All or Nothing did. I have great hopes for their offspring.”
Theo examined the mare, her hands running up and down the horse’s legs to look for straightness, then running along her body, feeling her strength. Muscles quivered beneath her fingertips and she sensed this horse’s speed without ever seeing her run. She continued her assessment, slowly walking around the horse before stopping in front of her. Intelligence gleamed from Gloriana’s eyes as Theo pet her nose. “She’s beautiful, Hart. Have you had her bred before?”
“She’s five now and ran her last race a couple weeks ago. I didn’t
want to try before.” A blush colored his smooth-shaved cheeks as he shrugged. “I wanted Pumpkin to be her first. Henry would have been pleased, I think.”
She laid her hand on his arm as gratitude warmed her. He did not have to wait to have Gloriana bred nor did he have to travel as far as he did. There were many successful stud farms in Kentucky, including Turning Leaf Farms, owned and managed by Liam Danforth, Henry’s brother, after the death of their father. And if Hart didn’t want to make use of one of those farms, he could have simply stayed home. The Jamesons owned Clover Hill, one of the biggest and most successful stud farms in Kentucky, and had for generations. “Yes, he would have.” She took a deep breath and smiled. “We should probably get Gloriana into one of the stalls so she can rest. She’s had a long trip.” She glanced at him and grinned. “I’m sure you’ve had a long journey as well.”
Theo took Gloriana’s reins from him and waited while he intercepted the Collier brothers as they left and tipped them for their service. “I have a better idea,” he said as they started leading the horse toward the stable, “Let’s put her in with Pumpkin right now and see how things go. At least then we’ll know if she’s ready.”
“I can’t do that, Hart. That would be unfair to the others. You’ll have to put your name in the hat and take your chances on being first like everyone else.”
“No one would have to know.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, and the grin that spread his lips had her fighting not to smile in return.
“I would know.”
“Ah, you’re an honorable woman, Theo.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “No hard feelings for making me wait.”
She felt it then. The heat of his smoldering smoky glare. The one that made her heart beat pick up its pace and caused her knees to go weak.
Eamon stood in the doorway of the stable, his gaze going from her to Hart and back, his expression unreadable.
“Hart, I’d like you to meet Eamon MacDermott. Eamon has been with me for a few weeks now. He’s helping with the horses.”
A Kiss in the Morning Mist Page 15