Flights of Fancy

by Jen Turano

  “Is the surname Delmont a bit of subterfuge as well?”

  “This disclosure business would be far easier if you weren’t proficient with cross-examining people.”

  “Ah, you’ve learned I’m an attorney?”

  “I’ve gotten to know practically every woman in Canonsburg. Do you actually think there’s even a remote chance I wouldn’t have discovered that?”

  Ian suddenly looked rather wary. “Did you discover anything else?”

  “Only that you’re somewhat of a genius when it comes to investing, which does explain how you were able to afford to build a home in Shadyside, a place I’ve also learned seems to hold its own version of New York’s Fifth Avenue, otherwise known as Millionaires’ Row.” She smiled. “And because I’m now apprised of the notion you seem to possess an impressive fortune, do know that I will expect you to remember that after you come to the conclusion that you’re desperate for me to remain at Glory Manor and are only too willing to pay me a salary—and not a measly thirty dollars a month.”

  Ian leaned back against Mavis, who didn’t even raise her head. “Duly noted, and because you’re aware I’m an attorney, allow me to do what we attorneys do best—redirect the conversation back to the relevant topic we were discussing before you made your most recent disclosures. If I may remind you, we were speaking of your last name. What is it?”

  She thought about the question for all of a second before she stuck her nose in the air. “I plead the Fifth.”

  “Of course you would,” he muttered before he took to rubbing his chin. “Which means I’m either left with pulling out my most terrifying cross-examining skills, which, believe me, will have you spilling your secrets before you know it, or . . . we can agree to discontinue this line of questioning for now, but do know that I will expect some hard answers in the not-too-distant future.”

  Knowing there was going to come a time when she would have to disclose everything, but not wanting that time to be now because there was something delightful in not being Miss Isadora Delafield, grand American heiress, Isadora nodded.

  To her relief, he sent her a nod in return, which had her spirits lifting. There was something liberating about Ian only believing her to be Izzie, his temporary housekeeper. That allowed her a refreshing bit of freedom in which she was able to enjoy an afternoon of easy banter with a charming and handsome man, with no worries that her every word was going to be judged, and . . . she didn’t need to worry he was only being charming to her because he was interested in her fortune. As far as he knew, she was practically penniless.

  Ian pushed away from Mavis, giving the cow a pat, which didn’t have her moving at all. “Looks like Mavis hasn’t changed her mind about being ornery.”

  “How’s your singing voice?” Isadora asked.

  “Worse than yours.”

  “That’s bound to complicate the problem of getting her to move.”

  “I do have a solution,” he said, releasing a sharp whistle a second later.

  “I’ve always wanted to learn how to whistle,” Isadora said, right as a dog scampered down the steep slope of the gully, loping over to join them, its tail wagging.

  “I would be more than happy to teach you, but first, meet Sparky,” Ian said as Sparky sat in front of Isadora and held out his paw.

  Charmed, she bent down, shook the paw, then frowned as she straightened. “Didn’t Uncle Amos used to have a dog named Sparky?”

  “Same dog. He apparently had a bit of an adventure but was recently found in Washington, Pennsylvania.”

  “Is Washington close to here?”

  “By train, yes. By dog legs, no.” Ian whistled again. “Sparky, take Mavis home.”

  That was all it took for Sparky to surge into motion, and to Isadora’s disbelief, the moment the dog began circling Mavis, letting out a few barks as he circled, Mavis abandoned her dandelions, let out a moo, and began moving, herded down the gully by Sparky.

  “Should I walk beside them?” Isadora asked.

  “Sparky will get Mavis back on his own. He’s very good with cows.” Ian stepped closer to her and took her arm. “Care to take a look at the stream before we leave? We might find a salamander, and I can teach you the basics of whistling while we look.”

  Having absolutely no reason to refuse him, nor did she want to, Isadora strolled with Ian toward the stream. As they stopped at the edge of the water, with the babble of the stream and the sound of birdsong in the air, Isadora found herself happier than she’d been in a very long time. Her life up until she’d left New York had been filled with the most lavish of frivolities, but now, when surrounded by the simple beauty of a stream and a handsome man by her side, she couldn’t help but question whether her priorities in life had changed, and if they had, what that meant for her future.

  Chapter 25

  “Since you’ve admitted you’re not Mrs. Delmont, dare I hope you’re actually an Izzie?”

  As she pulled her attention from a butterfly that had captured her interest, Isadora’s lips curved. “My dearest friend in the world gave me that nickname years ago, so yes, I’m an Izzie.”

  Ian tilted his head. “A rather interesting response, but I’ll leave further badgering about what your true name is for a later date. Tell me this, would you find it beyond the pale if I called you Izzie, especially since I get the uncanny feeling you occasionally forget you’re supposed to be Mrs. Delmont?”

  “Considering everyone in Canonsburg calls me Izzie, I find nothing untoward with you using my given name.” She frowned. “I should probably continue addressing you as Mr. MacKenzie, though, because you are my employer.”

  “Ian will do just fine, but MacKenzie is my real surname, even if I’m not overly fond of the name because it reminds me of my father. He wasn’t an honorable man, but when I told Aunt Birdie I wanted to change my name to her last name of Alderson, she would hear nothing of it, believing the name MacKenzie was my heritage. She was convinced I’d grow up to be an honorable man, which would restore honor to the MacKenzie name.”

  “Wise counsel indeed, since you’ve clearly managed to do that. Everyone in town speaks very highly of you, and even though I don’t claim to know you well, you strike me as an honorable man.”

  Something interesting flashed through his eyes. He inclined his head to her, but then, before she could ask him any other questions, especially about his father, Ian walked over to the stream. Looking over his shoulder, he smiled. “We seem to be delving into some rather weighty topics, and it’s too lovely of a day for that. Care to sit with me by the stream and dip your feet into the water?”

  “I’ve never dipped my feet into a stream before.”

  “Then we must remedy that at once.”

  Less than three minutes later, Isadora had abandoned her shoes and stockings, rolled up her pant legs, and taken a seat on a boulder next to the stream. Lowering her feet into the bubbling water, she shivered as delicious cold swept over her toes.

  “Have you really never gone wading before?” Ian asked, sticking his bare feet into the water next to hers.

  “I’m afraid not, but this is delightful.” She swished her feet through the water, shivering again when something tickled her toes.

  “It’s just the minnows.” Ian smiled. “They won’t hurt you, but they do occasionally like to nibble at the air bubbles that form around toes.”

  Forcing herself to keep her toes in the water, although having anything nibble at them was a little disconcerting, Isadora planted her hands behind her and leaned back.

  “I think I finally understand exactly why Aunt Birdie named the farm Glory Manor,” she said, watching a few puffy white clouds chase each other through the sky.

  “She never told me how she came to choose the name.”

  “It’s a lovely story, and one she shared with me after I admitted to her that I was convinced the advertisement I was answering would take me to a grand country estate. After finding that somewhat amusing, she told me she’d named
the farm Glory Manor because she enjoys seeing God’s glory every morning when she looks out over the land, never failing to appreciate the beauty she’s been blessed to live with.”

  “Glory Manor is situated on some beautiful land.”

  “Indeed,” Isadora said before she tilted her head back and simply allowed herself to enjoy the feel of the sun caressing her face, something she’d never been able to do with a pesky parasol overhead.

  Just when she was beginning to feel as if her nose might be burning, Ian suddenly surged into motion. A second later, he swooped down, stuck his hands behind a rock, then straightened. “I’ve got one.”

  She was in the water a second later. “A salamander?”

  “Yes, and he’s a pretty big one.”

  Peeking into Ian’s clasped hand, Isadora saw a little black face peering back at her. “He looks like a dragon.”

  “Except that he’s only a few inches long, whereas I imagine a dragon would be a lot larger.” Ian smiled. “Care to hold him?”

  “He won’t bite?”

  “No, but you need to be very gentle with him. Salamanders have very delicate skin, and we don’t want to damage it.”

  Telling her to cup her hands together, Ian passed over the salamander, nodding when she cradled the creature with a soft touch. It certainly was rather slimy, but that didn’t bother her at all, especially not when she saw the bright yellow and red streaks running through the black skin, the sheer brilliance of the colors having her nervousness fading away.

  Releasing the salamander a short time later, Isadora was surprised when Ian suddenly took her hand, lending her his support as they began wading up the stream, laughing every other minute as he tried to teach her how to whistle.

  “Perhaps, like singing, you’re not meant to be a whistler either,” he finally said.

  “Because I was always warned that whistling was inappropriate for young ladies, I’ll have you know I do intend to learn how to whistle, even if I have to practice for hours.”

  Ian’s brows drew together. “Who warned you about whistling?”

  Realizing she was divulging too much, Isadora forced a shrug. “Surely you must know that ladies don’t care to reveal all their secrets in one fell swoop, don’t you? That hardly allows us to maintain an air of mystery, something we are encouraged to adopt from the time we’re in short skirts.”

  “Ladies adopt an air of mystery on purpose?”

  “Of course.”

  “Huh. Interesting.” He began pulling her toward the boulder where they’d left their shoes and socks. “And here I’ve been of the belief that ladies refrain from spilling their deepest secrets because they’ve been told they’re only supposed to talk about the weather.”

  “Or fashions,” Isadora said with a grin, which faded a second later. “I was told that gentlemen prefer ladies with limited intelligence who aren’t prone to speaking their minds.”

  Ian frowned. “Were you told that by a gentleman?”

  “Perhaps.” She gestured around her. “I’ve found that attitude different here, though. The women of Canonsburg have no hesitation with saying whatever they want while suffering no censure from the men in town.” She smiled. “I must admit I find that attitude liberating.”

  Realizing she might have disclosed too much yet again because Ian was now watching her rather closely, she increased her pace, tugging him through the stream until they reached their abandoned footwear. “Even though this is more than enjoyable, now that Mavis has been found, I really should get back to help with the improvements taking place.”

  Taking the handkerchief he handed her to dry off her feet, she put on her stockings and shoes, then allowed him to help her to her feet, warmth flowing through her when he didn’t let go of her hand as he helped her climb out of the gully.

  Moving over to Clyde, Isadora accepted his hand up into the saddle, then took the reins as Ian swung onto his horse, sitting in the saddle like he’d been born to it.

  “Where’s Buttercup?” she asked, forcing her attention away from Ian to look around for a cow she only then noticed was absent.

  “She must have followed Mavis and Sparky. Probably wants to make sure Mavis doesn’t give Sparky any problems.”

  “She’s an unusual cow,” Isadora said before she nodded to his horse. “But speaking of unusual, that’s some horse you have there.”

  Ian smiled. “Rumor’s a little temperamental at times, but I knew the moment I saw him running in a field at Garrison Farms that he was meant to be mine.”

  “He’s a Garrison stallion?” Isadora asked, nudging Clyde closer so she could get a better look. “No wonder he’s such a magnificent animal.”

  “You know about Garrison Farms?”

  Seeing no reason to deny it, Isadora nodded, her gaze traveling over his horse. “Why did you name him Rumor?”

  “Because rumor had it he was the fastest horse at Garrison’s, and that, I’m pleased to say, turned out to be nothing but the truth.” Ian cleared his throat. “But how are you familiar with Garrison Farms?”

  “I see you’re not ready to discontinue trying to get me to disclose a few of my mysteries just yet,” she began before she smiled. “But because you did show me my very first salamander, as well as convince me to go wading for the very first time, I’m now feeling rather charitable toward you. I went to Garrison Farms a few years ago with my father and three brothers.”

  “And did you make any purchases there?”

  “I did not,” she admitted, ignoring the way his eyes suddenly sharpened on her. “I did, however, make the acquaintance of Miss Poppy Garrison, the daughter of Mr. Garrison. She’s a delightful lady I hope to encounter again someday.”

  “Did your father make any purchases that day?” he pressed. “Perhaps for himself, his three sons, or his demanding daughter?”

  “Your tenacity is very annoying, and I thought we’d come to an understanding about my demanding ways. In fact, I was under the impression you’d decided I was nothing like Katherina from The Taming of the Shrew.”

  He grinned. “My tenacity is what has allowed me to achieve the success I’ve enjoyed in business. As for the Katherina comparison, I suppose I was mistaken about that, especially because I highly doubt there will ever come a day when you profess yourself madly in love with me and begin catering to my every whim as Katherina did with her dear Petruchio.”

  She returned the grin, but then it slipped straight off her face when an unexpected truth sprang out of nowhere. It wasn’t as if she was madly in love with Ian, but . . . she was drawn to him in a most concerning manner, and that could very well lead to her falling slightly in love with the man if she wasn’t careful.

  The problem with that, however, was that Ian MacKenzie was determined to marry a woman who would help him up the social ladder as well as help him cement his position as a prominent man of business.

  She, unfortunately, was a great American heiress, and while that had never bothered her before, it bothered her now.

  There was every chance Ian would certainly be interested in pursuing a courtship with her if she divulged who she was, but . . . she didn’t want him to court her because she could improve his social standing.

  What she wanted, if she was being honest with herself, was for Ian to want her—and only her—not her along with her social connections or the fortune she possessed.

  She also wanted him to cherish the woman she was becoming—not the woman she’d been before she’d arrived at Glory Manor—and she wanted for him to kiss her . . . and really kiss her, not simply attach his lips to hers because he’d been trying to bring her back to—

  “Is something the matter?”

  Realizing she’d been lost in troubling thoughts for a rather long time, Isadora summoned up a smile. “Nothing’s wrong, I was merely . . .” She looked around, desperately searching for a distraction, but only found a rather ordinary field spread out in front of her. “Ah, contemplating the beauty of that . . . ah . . . fiel
d.”

  Ian looked over the field in question. “It’s rather barren because it wasn’t planted this year.”

  “I suppose it is barren at that, but it has a very nice fence surrounding it.”

  Looking at her quite as if she’d lost her mind, Ian turned his attention to the very unremarkable fence she’d pointed out, turning back to her a second later. “I imagine that fence might become more interesting if we were to put some rocks on top of it.”

  “Why would we want to do that?”

  “Because you obviously don’t want to disclose what you were thinking about a moment ago. That means that I, being a charming gentleman, or so I’ve been told, will now graciously change the subject, and . . .”

  “You’ve decided to change the subject to rocks?”

  “Only because they’ll make nice targets as you and I go about getting in some target practice.” He tossed her a grin that had her heart kicking up a beat. “I’ve yet to be convinced you’re proficient with that rifle you’ve got attached to your saddle. Shooting at rocks would be the perfect way for you to prove it.”

  She lifted her chin, willing her heart to stop galloping through her chest. A grinning Ian was downright irresistible, but she needed to resist him, at least until . . .

  “Shall we make a game of it?”

  Her lips curved into a grin. “But of course.”

  Ian nudged Rumor forward as she did the same with her horse. “What will be the prize for the winner?”

  Her first thought was a kiss, but knowing that was hardly appropriate, she took a second to ponder the matter as Clyde galloped across the field, coming up with the perfect answer once she reached the fence. Swinging from the saddle, she nodded to Ian, who’d gotten down from his horse as well.

  “The prizes will be this: if I win, you’ll agree to pay me fifty dollars a month, as well as keep me on as your household manager.”

  “Is that different from a housekeeper?”

  “It is, but we can discuss that further if I happen to win . . . and it will also allow me to figure out exactly what a household manager does.”