A sand path led up the bank from the water, but beyond that she saw only a tangle of undergrowth. Chad took the lead, and she followed. Ahead she saw the weathered wood and brown roof of what she presumed was the stable.
Chad walked straight into the building without hesitation. A wizened man with a currycomb in his hand emerged from one of the stalls and removed his cap. "Why, Chad," he said. "Going for a ride?" Paige was puzzled by the stable attendant's deferential manner.
"Yes, my friend and I want to take the horses out."
"Good," said the little man. "I'll help you saddle them."
"No, I want to do it," Chad insisted. He went to the two end stalls where he stopped and patted the neck of a beautiful roan in the first before crossing to the other, where he spoke softly to a big bay.
Chad turned when she approached. "This is Damien," he told her. Paige, whose eyes had quickly adjusted to the dim light, regarded the bay with respect. He was an extremely handsome horse, sleek and well-groomed, and, if she was any judge of horseflesh, he was no ordinary stable hack. She put out a hand and touched him lightly on the neck. Damien whickered softly and dipped his head.
"He likes you," said Chad. "But he's a lot of horse. I think you'd be better off on Max." They went into the other stall. Paige had expected Max to be somehow less impressive than Damien, but he showed fine breeding as well. Chad produced a sugar lump, and Paige held it out to Max. His soft nose nuzzled her hand.
Chad saddled the two horses quickly and competently before leading them into the sunny paddock. He held Max while Paige mounted, then vaulted easily into Damien's saddle. After they left the paddock, they urged the horses into a trot, Damien in front and Max following behind.
"There are miles of trails," Chad called back over his shoulder. "Some are really remote."
It seemed as though they were far from civilization already. Here, as on St. Albans, grew enormous live oak trees fringed with gray Spanish moss. Further on they passed clumps of holly and junipers, and they saw several tall magnolia trees bursting into bloom with big white blossoms. A squirrel chattered at them from a hole in a hollow tree, and a cardinal, bright red in a shaft of sunlight, regarded them warily from the branch of a slender loblolly pine.
Max proved to be an amiable mount. He had a sensitive mouth and responded readily to Paige's commands. With Chad on Damien in front of her, she could hardly ignore how well he sat a horse. Fine horsemanship was an art, a delicate balance of rider in communication with horse. Watching Chad as he spoke quietly to Damien, she was surprised at the unity the two seemed to have achieved.
They rode for a time in silence until the trail passed close to a bluff overlooking the marsh. Chad half-turned in his saddle and said, "Let's stop for a while, okay?"
Chad had chosen a peaceful place far from the stable. The marsh stretched away in front of them for miles, green and gold embracing the breathtaking blue of the sky. The hot afternoon sun beat down upon the scene and spangled the water between the reeds with shimmering pinpoints of light. As they watched, an osprey, head and feet down, launched into a dive that ended in a plunge. He vanished for a moment beneath the water and reappeared with a fish in his talons. He flew away across the marsh, winging homeward where he would divide the prey with his mate and young.
Chad watched this drama without comment. He motioned for Paige to sit on a smooth flat rock, and when she did, he joined her. They sat in companionable silence, not needing to talk.
For once she didn't feel that Chad was being aggressive, and the overwhelming physical attraction that had dominated their relationship for so long seemed secondary to their feeling of comradeship. She wondered why and decided it was the relaxed mood that they had attained here, away from the island. She had always felt that the isolated atmosphere on St. Albans tended to intensify emotions, and if she and Chad were any indication, it was true.
Chad had plucked a wild daisy from a clump within arm's reach, and he began to tear off the petals. "She loves me, she loves me not," he began, a twinkle in his eyes.
"Oh, please stop," Paige interrupted. "You're ruining a perfectly lovely flower!"
He raised his eyebrows at her. "In the process I might find out what I really want to know."
She flushed. "Don't be ridiculous, Chad. You know how I feel about our relationship. So don't make jokes."
"I think there's been a mistake. I certainly don't know how you feel about our relationship. I know how you feel about relationships in general—this 'communion of the spirit,' which obviously you don't feel with the handsome Stephen McCall either—but our relationship is a mystery to me. I don't know what to make of it at all."
Paige ventured a glance at Chad. He appeared to be quite serious. There was a line between his eyebrows, and his eyes contained a depth that she had never seen there before. She looked away quickly. Maybe she'd been foolish to agree to come along with him today.
"I—I think we'd better be going," she said, starting to get up.
Chad gently pulled her back to her seat on the rock. "You talk about feeling something special for the man you love. But it seems to me that you're always running, not only from me, but from Stephen McCall." He placed a finger over her lips when she would have objected vehemently. "Oh, yes, Paige Brownell, you are running from him, or you wouldn't be here with me now. How can you ever learn to feel anything for anyone if you're always running away?"
It was a good question and a heartfelt one if the intensity behind Chad's expression was genuine.
"I don't run away," she began, then she stopped. She did run away, had run away from Stephen because she didn't feel any physical attraction, had been running away from Chad Smith because she felt too much. It was a paradox that she was at a loss to explain. She rose before he could stop her and walked along the path for a short distance, leaving Chad sitting alone on the rock.
A weeping willow, its branches sweeping low over the bank, was ahead of her, and where the branches brushed the path a log had fallen and blocked her way. She dodged under the willow, unaware that Chad had risen to follow her.
He caught up with her beneath the curtaining branches of the willow tree. She turned to him through the wavering light and shadow, unsure of herself and, most of all, unsure of him. She didn't know whether she would read anger in his face, or lust, or annoyance. She was totally unprepared for what she found.
In the soft pale green half-light beneath the sheltering branches with the fresh fragrant scent of the tree wafted around them by the gentle breeze across the marsh, she stared up at him. The message on his face was not anger or annoyance or even lust. It was perplexity, bewilderment, confusion. Not what she had expected from Chad, who was always so sure of himself, who was experienced with women.
She couldn't have stopped herself even if she'd wanted to. She reached out to him as he reached for her, and as his arms went around her, she closed her eyes and pressed her face to his chest. Then he was kissing her, but not with the stirring passionate kisses to which she had grown accustomed. These were tender kisses that he rained upon her forehead, her lips, her throat, and in the open neckline of her shirt.
The unexpected gentleness did not restrain the force of desire that always swept over her when she was in Chad's arms. She clung to him, wondering if she was losing her mind. That is, if she still had a mind to lose. It seemed as though any free will she might have had was evaporating, as though her determination to avoid him had swirled away, as though her distrust of Chad's motives had been only a trick of her imagination.
Gently he pulled away. They stared at each other for a long moment. Paige's lips were slightly parted and she could feel her pulse pounding, pounding against her temples. Around them the willow branches swayed as light rippled and wove itself through the leaves. The light's motion made her feel unsteady on her feet.
"We'd better go back," Chad said finally, and without another word he turned quickly, parted the willow branches, and walked purposefully to where the horses waited, leaving Paige trail
ing behind as she sorted through the tangle of her jumbled emotions.
Chapter 8
She had seen Chad in many moods, Paige reflected later when she was walking briskly along the path to the Manse, but she wasn't any closer to determining which was the real Chad Smith than when she first arrived on St. Albans. Passionate, friendly, annoyed, perplexed, witty—never had she known a man with so many sides. Dealing with him left her feeling completely at a loss because she never knew which facet would present itself. Just when she had become convinced that she had learned to handle one side of his personality, he would turn into an entirely different person.
Today, for example. His act in front of Stephen showed his delight in tricking someone into thinking he was something other than what he was. Their interaction on the dock after lunch had been altogether pleasant and likeable. On the bridle trail when they stopped to rest, he had seemed sincere about exploring her feelings. Later, under the weeping willow, she'd encountered a different Chad who had seemed as bewildered as she. But which was the real Chad? And what exactly did she feel for him?
One good thing about their outing to the stable—she'd learned the intricacies of the Chris Craft. Chad hadn't noticed how carefully she watched him, and now she felt confident enough to take the boat out alone.
But first there was the problem of Stephen McCall.
Much to Paige's relief, Chad had swung off along the forest route to the Sea House as soon as they arrived back on St. Albans. In the half-light of approaching dusk, she entered the Manse by the back door and found Stephen sitting at the kitchen table drinking a beer and eating a ham-and-cheese sandwich.
She switched on the overhead light. "I see you've made yourself at home."
"I didn't expect you to cook my dinner for me," he said. "It'd be that way if we lived together, too. I'm so used to fending for myself that you wouldn't have to feel as though you were taking on new responsibilities, and—"
"Stephen, I'm not going to me in with you, and that's that." She found the ham and cheese in the refrigerator and began slapping together a sandwich for herself.
"Did you have fun on your boat ride?" asked Stephen.
"Um-hmm," she said noncommittally.
"This handyman of yours—"
"Of my aunts'," she reminded him.
"Are you in love with him?" Stephen's tone was sharp.
"I—of course not. He's the handyman here, for heaven's sake." But her hands trembled as she set the top piece of bread on her sandwich.
"I caught a glimpse of him when he was on the way to the boat dock. He gives quite a different impression when he's cleaned up."
"Chad is—a man of many moods," Paige said tersely.
Stephen watched her appraisingly as she sat down across from him. At this point she wished she had never made the sandwich. Her mouth was dry, and she had completely lost her appetite. In love with Chad Smith? She'd never dared to ask herself that question, but now that Stephen had inquired, there was no way to avoid it.
Somehow, with Stephen watching her wordlessly from across the table, she managed to choke down her sandwich. Afterward, when she'd cleared the table, he said, "How about a walk on the beach? It's a pleasant night, and I think we need the time together."
Paige was totally unwilling to put herself in a situation that might lead to Stephen's getting the wrong idea. She shook her head. "We don't need time together."
"I suppose you're right. You have something important to think about." Stephen's confident smile was beginning to wear around the edges.
Paige studied his face for any sign that he realized what was really on her mind and decided that he did not. "Yes, I do have things to think about," she said quietly, knowing that the important thing she would be thinking about would not be Stephen McCall.
"I'll make up the bed in the guest room for you while you're walking on the beach," she said hurriedly over her shoulder as she left him standing alone in the kitchen and looking after her with an expression of disappointment.
After the guest room was ready, she repaired to the peaceful haven of her own room where she lay on the bed staring at the ceiling.
Was she in love with Chad Smith? No, she thought, trying to convince herself. She couldn't be in love with him, not until she'd investigated him to her satisfaction. Tomorrow after Stephen left, she would take the boat into Brunswick and start checking Chad out. She was beginning to hope that whatever she learned about Chad Smith would exonerate him of wrongdoing.
It was over an hour before she heard Stephen's purposeful tread on the stairs, and she caught her breath as she heard his footsteps stop outside her door and a hand touch her doorknob. But if he'd been planning to come in, he apparently thought better of it. He walked on, and she heard the click of the latch as he went into the guest room and closed the door.
She slept late in the morning, not even hearing Stephen as he showered in the bathroom next to her room. Nor did she awaken when he went downstairs and prepared his own breakfast. It was not until he gently pushed her bedroom door open that she finally opened her eyes and focused blearily on Stephen's handsome face as he leaned over her bed, one hand resting on either side of her pillow.
"Good morning," he said.
"Stephen! You should have knocked before you came in." She pulled the bedclothes up over her chest and struggled to a sitting position.
"I was afraid you'd tell me to go away. Would you have?" His brilliant blue eyes rested on hers, and in them she read unabashed longing.
"I would have asked you to wait a minute and I would have dressed, and then I would have come out to tell you that—"
"That you'll come back to New York with me?"
"That I haven't changed my mind. You're going back to New York alone." Paige spoke as firmly as she could in the circumstances. She still felt slightly muzzy from sleep.
Stephen's expression became bleak. "There's no chance? If you think about it for a while longer?"
Paige shook her head emphatically. "No chance, Stephen." Her voice softened at his crestfallen look, although she knew that there was no meaningful way to soften the blow. "I—I'm sorry I can't go along with it."
Stephen straightened. "I'm sorry, too, Paige," he said stiffly. He might have said more, but just as he was about to speak, they both heard Chad's unmistakable whistling as he clattered up the stairs.
Chad saw Stephen through the open door of her room. And in the bed on the other side of Stephen he saw Paige, who despite her innocence couldn't help but flush with embarrassment.
The color drained from Chad's face. Their eyes locked for only a moment, but it was long enough for Paige to see in them the condemnation and contempt he felt for her.
"Chad," she whispered in spite of herself, slowly shaking her head. It was a plea for understanding and a cry of anguish, all wrapped up in the single syllable of his name.
She didn't know whether he heard her or not, because he'd turned angrily and fled down the stairs as though the sight of her occupying the same bedroom with Stephen was more than he could stomach.
"So that's it," mused Stephen, searching her face. "There is something between you two, after all."
"There isn't anything between us at all," she said, and the pain in her voice communicated itself to Stephen.
He studied her carefully for a moment. "Any fool can see that there soon will be if you continue to live on this godforsaken island together. And believe me," he went on, regaining some of his old assurance, "I have no desire to sit around and watch it happen." His eyes grew hard, and he finally seemed resigned.
"Goodbye, Stephen."
"Goodbye, Paige." He wheeled abruptly and was gone.
When the sound of the helicopter had faded over the marsh in the direction of Brunswick, Paige pulled on a robe and went in search of Chad. She felt a compulsion to explain, to be understood. She couldn't let Chad go on thinking what he so obviously believed, that she and Stephen had spent the night in bed together. She'd convinced Chad th
at her scruples wouldn't allow her to go to bed with a man she didn't love, and she couldn't let Chad believe that she loved Stephen.
She found Chad, finally, by following the sound of the axe. He was chopping wood at the edge of the forest, working in a frenzy, the axe glinting in the sunlight, chips of wood flying. Her heart gave a little leap when she first saw him. He was bare to the waist, and his muscles, slick with sweat, rippled as he repeatedly raised the axe high over his head and brought it down to split the logs.
He didn't appear to hear her when she first spoke his name, so she cleared her throat and spoke louder the second time. He turned and stared at her, panting with exertion, his expression angry.
"I came to explain," she began, but he cut her off short.
"You aren't required to explain anything to me," he said curtly, hefting the axe again.
"Wait," she said unhappily. "It wasn't the way you think. Stephen hoped to catch me off guard by surprising me in my room. He slept in the guest room last night."
Chad took in her embarrassment, her distraught appearance, her robe. "He's gone, I see, off into the wild blue yonder," he said with a hint of sarcasm.
"He—he wanted me to go back with him, but I wouldn't. I couldn't."
"So it's over between you?"
"It never even began," she said.
Chad heaved a sigh and leaned on his axe handle. "Your spirits never managed to commune?" He seemed to be repressing a smile.
"Please don't laugh at me," she said. She twisted nervously at a loose button on the front of her robe.
Chad sobered instantly, studying every inch of her face, weighing her obvious distress. Under his scrutiny, she shrank, knowing that despite her denials, he was probably thinking the worst.
She was completely surprised that when he spoke, it was with sincerity and more kindness than she could have imagined. "I'm not laughing at you, Paige. In fact, I think you handled Mr. McCall very well. And I don't believe anything happened between you last night, although I must admit it was quite a shock when I saw him in your room." He paused and shook his head. "Next time you entertain a man in your bedroom, how about warning me in advance? Please?" A twitch at the corners of his mouth seemed to be hiding a smile.
The Beach Bachelors Boxset (Three Complete Contemporary Romance Novels in One) (The Beach Bachelors Series) Page 28