Heart of the Falcon

by Francis Ray

  She remained cool through her crab claws sauteed in lemon sauce—thawed a little when served her garden salad loaded with artichokes, mushrooms, scallions, and cucumbers. He made points, however, when he asked what she was digging in her salad for, and she said, “more cucumbers,” and he gave her his.

  She kept up the pretense until the first bite of the most mouth-watering lobster she had ever closed her lips over. She moaned. Ignoring Daniel’s knowing smile, she kept eating. Dessert was something rich and decadent and chocolate. Stuffed, she managed only a couple of spoonfuls. Daniel had no such trouble. He finished off his and hers.

  The best part of the dinner was she didn’t have to clean up afterward or groan all the way to the car to drive home. Sitting on the couch, one hand holding the orchid, she watched Daniel let the waiters out. She didn’t think she’d move until morning.

  “Can I get you anything?” he asked.

  Madelyn looked the long way up to his bronzed, smiling face. He’d been smiling all evening. The smile looked good on him. “Not unless you want me to pop.”

  He squatted down in front of her and took her free hand. “You’re tired.”

  “A little,” she confessed, then yawned.

  He grinned. Dimples winked. He stood and pulled her to her feet. “Come on, and lock the door so you can get some rest.”

  “How are you going to get home?”

  “I’ll call Higgins. Dad certainly seems to have forgotten me,” he said, his tone light.

  Madelyn came to a decision. “Take my car. There’s no reason to disturb Higgins.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.” Going into the bedroom, she returned shortly with her keys. “No dents. No dings.”

  “I’ll be extra careful.” Leaning over, he kissed her on the cheek. “Good night.”

  Following him to the door, she didn’t know why she suddenly felt sad. “Drive carefully.”

  “I will.” He reached for the door, then turned back, drawing her into his arms. She went willingly. There was no need to urge her lips apart, to coax her.

  Finally he lifted his head, his breathing labored. “I’d better go.”

  He was out the door before she remembered to say, “Please call and let me know if Felicia is all right.”

  “I will. Now go back inside and lock up.”

  “Good night,” she whispered, then stepped back, closing and locking the door. If only it was as easy to close her heart against hoping for something that might never be. She prayed that Felicia’s heart was safe.

  Madelyn’s had been lost the first time Daniel kissed her.

  * * *

  Felicia cried until there were no tears left. The whimpering sobs took longer to subside. She’d never known a despair so deep, so yawning with no hope. Always in life she had hope and the courage to take what she wanted.

  Hope and courage were gone. She no longer cared.

  “Felicia.”

  Something in her sparked before she realized the voice was Higgins’s and not John Henry’s. She curled tighter.

  A frail hand patted her on the shoulder. “Now, now.”

  “Oh, Higgins. I was such a fool.”

  “Your parents indulged you too much. Told them to let you throw a tantrum or two. They acted like I had asked them to lock you in a closet.”

  Sniffing, she sat up and leaned against him. “Maybe they should have.”

  “I’ve been thinking we’d take the car and drive down the coast to Galveston, maybe stay at this little bed and breakfast I read about for a few days,” he suggested. “Just until you feel better.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever feel better.”

  “Yes you will.” Awkwardly he helped her to her feet. His frail arms around her shoulders, they started for the house.

  Stoic, John Henry watched them approach the back of the house. He had stood and watched Felicia until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He had called Higgins and asked him to go to her.

  The chauffeur knew all the family secrets, and he could be trusted. He also loved Felicia like the daughter he’d never had. She needed someone who loved her. John Henry’s love had never been enough.

  Opening the glass door, John Henry took the path leading to the stables. He needed a long, hard ride. Maybe if he rode hard enough, fast enough, he’d stop hearing Felicia’s sobs, stop tearing his heart out over a woman he couldn’t stop loving.

  * * *

  Daniel sensed something was wrong the instant he entered the house. It wasn’t just the quietness. It was something else he couldn’t put a name to.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, he went to his mother’s room. The door was open. Seeing her packing, he knew. He crossed to her and took her in his arms.

  “Mother.”

  He caught a brief glimpse of her defeated expression before she grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and pressed her face against his chest. “Your father asked for a divorce.”

  His arms tightened. He had hoped they could work things out. “I’m sorry. Maybe—”

  “No. It’s over. Please don’t say anything else, or I’ll start crying again.”

  Feeling utterly helpless, he continued holding her. “Is it all right to say I love you?”

  He felt her nod against his shirt. “Higgins is taking me to a bed and breakfast in Galveston. I-I’d like to be gone before your father gets back.”

  Strong hands gently pushed her away. A frown knitted Daniel’s brow. “Where is he? His truck is out front and so is mine.”

  “I don’t know. Higgins said he saw John Henry tear out of the stables on one of your horses, but that was at sundown.” Fear crossed her delicate face. “Daniel, you don’t think he’s hurt, do you?”

  “Dad’s the best rider I know. Don’t worry,” Daniel advised, but he was already turning away. His father knew better than to ride at night. Yet what if something had happened before nightfall? If the unthinkable had occurred, none of the horses had been stabled long enough to come home on their own.

  Fighting a rising fear, Daniel ran into the stable and hit the light switch, already moving swiftly down the aisle, counting horses. Seeing one missing, his heart stopped—Jabel, the fiery Arabian stallion he had purchased last week.

  “Daniel?”

  He swung around to see his mother, her arms wrapped around her, her eyes begging him to say the word to put her mind at ease. He couldn’t. “One of the horses is missing.”

  “No, no.”

  “Mother—Dad!”

  Felicia whirled. With a shout of pure joy, she launched herself at John Henry, who was walking and leading Jabal by the reins to the stable; her frantic arms circled her husband’s neck. Jabal shied from all the noise. Felicia didn’t seem to notice John Henry had to release the horse in order to keep them upright, keep them from falling beneath the stallion’s deadly hooves.

  Daniel grabbed the animals dragging reins.

  Felicia kept right on planting kisses on John Henry’s dirt-smeared face and crying. It took her a minute to notice he wasn’t kissing her back. Her body tensed.

  Slowly her arms slid down from around his neck. She took one, then another step backward. Seeing his expressionless face, she ran out of the stable.

  Fists clenched, John Henry remained unmoved.

  “We thought you’d been thrown,” Daniel said matter-of-factly. The look on his father’s face said they should have known better. “You’re dirty enough.”

  “I stayed out longer than I expected. Since it was dark, I walked the horse, tripped and fell.”

  Now Daniel was the one wearing a look of disbelief. “You see like a cat in the dark.”

  “I had other things on my mind,” John Henry explained tightly.

  Daniel had a good idea what those things were. “The main thing is that you’re unhurt. We jumped to conclusions since Higgins had seen you ride out earlier. Mother stopped packing and followed me out here.”

  Surprise widened his father’s eyes. “Packing?”


  “What did you expect after asking for a divorce?” Daniel said, not bothering to keep the anger out of his voice. “Now you can marry what’s-her-name.”

  “If only I could.” Turning, John Henry left the stable.

  Chapter 16

  Felicia lay prone across the antique linen hand-embroidered bedspread. She hadn’t thought she had any more tears. She had been wrong.

  A hand lightly touched her head. She flinched. “Please, go away.”

  “If only I could.”

  Recognizing John Henry’s voice caused the tears to flow faster. “Please.”

  The pressure of his calloused hand increased as he continued stroking her hair. “Do you know you’re dirtying up Daniel’s fancy bedspread?”

  “That’s what they have dry cleaners for,” she sobbed, hating the almost aching need to press her head into his strong hand.

  “Your suit will have to go to the cleaners, too. I guess you didn’t think about that when you were hugging me.”

  “I thought you had been hurt. Who cares about a stupid suit.”

  “You were really scared, weren’t you?”

  Felicia stopped long enough to stare up at him in disbelief. “How can you ask such a question?”

  “Because you always acted like I was an embarrassment to you.”

  She came up like a spring, her face horrified. “I never!” she began, only to stop, her eyes shutting as she recalled the conversation with Daniel at the hospital. Slowly her eyes opened. John Henry watched her intently.

  The time for the whole truth had finally arrived. John Henry couldn’t hate her any more than he already did. At least she might stop hating herself for what she had tried to do to him.

  “I was never ashamed of you. But you were the only man I was never sure of.” She swallowed. “At first I tried to make you over because I wanted you to forget about going back to Oklahoma. I was terrified you’d get tired of me and leave. Then I did it to protect you against snide, ignorant remarks.”

  A muscle leaped in his jaw. “Come on, Felicia. You know I never gave a rat’s behind about what your family or friends thought about me.”

  “I know that’s what you said. Sometimes you went out of your way to play the uneducated Indian, but I’d see you sometimes looking at a group of men in a conversation you were excluded from, and I’d ache for you.”

  He shook his head. “You had it all wrong. Most of the time I was thinking how bored I was or what a waste of time it was to be there.” His expression grew hard. “Your friends might have been wealthy, but a lot of them were bankrupt in the real things that matter in life.”

  “Including me,” she said softly.

  “I tried to make myself think so, but I did a lot of thinking this afternoon and realized something.” He glanced around the lavishly decorated room. “Daniel might have obtained this without the private schools and the privileged life, but he couldn’t have grown up to be the man I’m proud to call my son without you. I’m just as proud of Dominique.”

  His gaze returned to Felicia. “Whenever I showed up, there were never any recriminations from either of them. They were always happy and eager to be with me, no matter how I was dressed or what I drove. They still are. They had to learn that from someone. We might not have gotten along at times, but you never tried to teach my children to hate me.”

  Felicia sniffed. “I hated the farm in Oklahoma. You seemed to need it more than me and the children.”

  John Henry’s hand tenderly stroked her cheek. “I never acclimated to Boston. The weather, the crowds, the food. I felt utterly useless working a token job for your father, living in his house. A Muscogee is taught to take care of his wife, his children. I felt less than a man.”

  “Forgive me. I never knew.”

  “Looks like we both have a lot to forgive,” he said, picking her up. Her eyes widened, but her arms closed around his neck. “I take it that door leads to the bathroom.”

  “Y-Yes.”

  “Good. Hope your bathtub is as big as mine.”

  “John Henry, what are you doing?”

  “Hell if I know. I only know I have to make love to you or go stark raving mad.” He stopped and looked down at her. “Any objections?”

  She bit her lip. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

  “Our track record hasn’t been the best.”

  Felicia’s hold tightened. “I’m willing to try if you are. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  Shoving the door open to the bathroom, John Henry set her on her feet and began unbuttoning the buttons on her suit. “Whatever covers a lot of territory.”

  Felicia’s fingers went to his shirt. Her hands trembling, her voice unsteady, she said, “I hope it does, because it’s been two long years.”

  His hands stilled as the implication of what she had just said sank into him like tender claws. “I—”

  “Sheee.” Her lips gently grazed his. “You are the heart of my heart. I’ll keep on saying the words until you hear it in your heart as well.”

  “Felicia, I can’t lose again.”

  “You don’t have to.” Stepping back, she undressed for him, her eyes glowing with a desire that was matched in his.

  He pulled her to him, his mouth and hands devouring her. “I’ve waited so long.”

  “So have I.” Her hands began unbuttoning his shirt, anxious to feel the heat and muscled warmth of his body. “Don’t make either of us wait any longer.”

  He didn’t. Quickly he finished undressing and drew her down on their scattered clothes on the floor, joining them in one powerful thrust. Her body accepted him as it always had, with hungry eagerness.

  Mingled sighs of pleasure escaped from their lips. Sensations, powerful and exquisite, ran through them. They stared into each other’s eyes, not moving, prolonging the exquisite moment each had waited for, hoped for, prayed for.

  Then his hips began to move, slowly at first, then with quick, powerful movements. Heat built like a raging inferno, sweeping them both down its path. Completion came too soon, shaking them both with its violence. But there was also a rightness.

  Trembling fingers swept John Henry’s heavy mane of black hair away from his perspiration-dampened face. “Welcome home.”

  “In my heart, I never left.”

  Tears formed in Felicia’s eyes. Tenderly John Henry kissed every one away, then moved to other, softer parts of her body. It was a long satisfying time before they got into the tub, longer still until they went to sleep locked in each other’s arms.

  * * *

  In the other wing of the house, Daniel called Madelyn from his bedroom to tell her his parents were trying to work things out. He was glad she didn’t ask for any details. His mother and father had been behind closed doors together in the past, but until tonight he had never actually considered what they might be doing. He didn’t want to tonight, either.

  Reluctantly he ended the conversation less than a minute later. Madelyn sounded sleepy. Lying down, his hands behind his head, he could almost see her curled up in her bed, her hands pillowing her cheek.

  With a fierce yearning he wished he was there with her, to hold her, love her. Soon, he promised himself. Very soon.

  * * *

  “Not yet, Mrs. Falcon, wait until the batter bubbles and the ends turn up just slightly,” instructed Mrs. Hargrove, Daniel’s cook.

  With all the concentration of a mother watching her child take its first steps, Felicia’s eyes never left the four circles of pancake batter.

  “Bacon needs turning. You want me to do it?” asked Mrs. Hargrove.

  “No, please, I want to do this by myself.” Giving one last look at the pancakes, Felicia turned the bacon, her attention zeroing back in on the grill. Taking a deep breath, she flipped first one, then the others over. They weren’t the perfect round shapes she would have liked, but they held together.

  “I did it—I did it.”

  “You certainly did, Mrs. Falcon. We’ll have you cooki
ng in no time.”

  “Thank you, I couldn’t have done it without your help.” Smelling the bacon, Felicia took it out of the skillet and placed the strips on paper towels to drain, then removed the pancakes, adding them to her stack. Picking up a bowl, she whisked the contents, eyed the butter heating in the skillet.

  “It’s ready,” instructed the cook.

  The egg batter began to sizzle the instant it hit. Using the spatula handed to her by the other woman, Felicia soft-scrambled the eggs.

  “Mother?”

  “Good morning, Daniel,” Felicia called, her attention on her cooking.

  “It’s barely eight,” he said. Since she went to sleep late, she usually slept until around ten unless she had an appointment.

  “I know.” Felicia put the food in the divided chafing dish, covered it with the sterling silver dome lid, then placed the dish on the tray beside a plate and a carafe of coffee. “I wanted to surprise your father with breakfast.”

  Daniel stared at his mother. She was glowing. She was also in a flowing aqua robe. In his memory she had never come downstairs until she was dressed. “You two are going to work things out?”

  “I’m going to do whatever it takes to make him happy,” she said, then blushed. “I better take this upstairs before your father wakes up.”

  “He’s still asleep?” Daniel questioned. His father never slept past five.

  Felicia blushed again, her hands tightening on the sides of the wooden tray. Her gaze dropped to the middle of his chest.

  “Must be the long drive,” Daniel said helpfully, trying not to think of the implication of the robe or the blush. “You better get going.”

  Nodding, Felicia turned away, walking slowly. Still slightly bemused, Daniel followed her into the dining room as she headed for the sweeping staircase. His mouth opened to ask her if she wanted him to help, but the words were never spoken.

  His mother stopped, her gaze lifting. At the top of the stairs stood his father in jeans and an open shirt. For an interminable amount of time, they simply stared at each other, then his father quickly moved down the stairs. Without a word being spoken between them that Daniel could hear, his father swept up his mother in his arms, tray and all, and started back up the stairs.