“I was thinking of buying her a Wii. She saw their fitness stuff on TV the other day and complained that she needed to take off a few pounds.”
“Christ almighty, Rob. A necklace says, ‘You’re beautiful enough for diamonds.’ Do you know what an exercise video game says?”
“That I care about her health?”
“That you think she’s fat, but you don’t mind because Wii also makes a NASCAR game you’ve been drooling over.”
Rob’s face reddened. “Okay. Busted.”
“Take the afternoon off and go buy her a necklace.”
“You’re a great boss.”
“Hey, I’m doing this for Annie, not you.”
“Yeah, but I’m the one who’ll get lucky tonight.”
“On second thought, maybe I should go pick out a necklace and take Annie to dinner.”
“Not on your life. I’m not letting you within fifty feet of my wife.”
Swain grabbed Nor’easter’s bridle from where it hung on the wall and inspected the bit. “Go on, I can ride both horses and save my paperwork for tonight.”
“Thanks. I owe you.” Rob turned abruptly toward the barn entrance and almost crashed into Lillie.
“Oh, hey. Sorry. I didn’t see you.” He stuck out his hand, looking Lillie over and giving her a wide smile. “Rob Garris. You were here yesterday, right?”
Lillie clasped his hand in brief greeting. “Yes. Lillie Wetherington.”
Rob’s smile faltered. “Miss Wetherington.” He was suddenly more formal. This was the new boss lady. Swain had gathered the men together that morning to tell them of Abigail’s death and the new boss in residence. She hadn’t said it was the beautiful blonde who’d showed up on the patio yesterday. “I’m so sorry to hear about Mrs. Wetherington. She was a great lady. She sure knew the ponies.” That was a high compliment among the polo crowd.
“Thank you, Rob.”
He glanced at Swain and looked relieved when she dismissed him with a nod toward his truck.
“Right. On my way.”
Swain studied Lillie warily. After her outburst last night, she wouldn’t be surprised if Lillie had come to fire her.
But Lillie didn’t look angry. She looked great. Her cascading curls were pulled back loosely and tied with a black ribbon. She was dressed more casually today, in jeans and a black tank top under an unbuttoned khaki camp shirt with the sleeves rolled up on her forearms. On her it looked like high fashion.
She was exactly the kind of young woman any prominent family would be proud to have as their daughter, their granddaughter. Not at all like a boyish lesbian with manure on her boots and sweat running down her back. Swain tamped down her peeve, her tone polite. “What can I do for you, Miss Wetherington?”
“Please, call me Lillie. I…I’ve come to apologize for yesterday. I rather made a mess out of breaking the news of Grandmum’s passing. I can’t excuse my callous behavior, except to say I’m still a bit dazed over everything that has happened. I’m truly sorry.”
The sincerity in Lillie’s soft brown eyes caught Swain off guard. Maybe she’d been too quick to judge this woman. She averted her gaze to the bridle in her hands and fidgeted with a buckle. “I need to be the one to apologize.” Swain took a deep breath and looked up. “I was as shocked as you were that those words came out of my mouth. I should be the last person on earth to say such a thing.”
Lillie cocked her head. “Why is that?”
She rarely told anyone about her childhood, but she suddenly needed Lillie to know that she understood how much her words must have hurt. “Because I was orphaned as a child, too.”
Lillie’s eyes swirled with hurt, then resentment. Swain’s message had hit home. The insult she hurled last night was inexcusable. She had knowingly gone for the jugular, used the knife she knew would cut a fellow orphan the deepest. But the shock of Abigail’s death had left her raw and triggered her deepest defenses.
“I’m deeply sorry,” Swain said gently. “And I have no excuse for my callous behavior.” She mimicked Lillie’s words, but offered her most sincere smile.
Lillie’s gaze softened. “It seems neither of us was at our best. Perhaps we can begin again.”
“I’d like that.” Swain was surprised to find she really meant what she said. Not because it served her seduction of Lillie into the family’s passion for polo, but because…well, she wasn’t sure why. Maybe because Lillie was one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen. Maybe she just wanted to hear more of that soft, lyrical British accent.
“Who d’you want saddled next?” John stepped out of the tack room halfway down the long corridor. “Sorry. Didn’t know you had company.”
The spell between them was broken, and Swain was suddenly aware that she and Lillie had moved closer during their conversation, close enough to give the impression of something intimate between them. She stepped back and glanced toward the man. “Nor’easter, John. I’ll take him on the trails to stretch his legs.” She held out the bridle in her hands. “But I need a new bit on this.”
John nodded and took the bridle from her before disappearing back into the tack room.
Swain turned to Lillie. “Will it happen soon?” How long before I’m homeless?
“What?”
“The reading of Abigail’s will.”
“Oh, the will. No. Mr. Whitney called this morning and said that a bit of legal work to sort out would cause a delay. In fact, he said it may take several months.” Lillie shifted uneasily on her feet. “That leads to the other reason I’m here. There’s no food in the house and I’m afraid I’m without transportation. Are there any taxis about?”
“Abigail’s BMW is in the garage. I’ve driven it regularly to keep it maintained. The keys are hanging in the kitchen next to the door that leads out to the garage.”
“Um, well.”
“Just stay on the opposite side of the road than you’re used to.”
Lillie shoved her hands in her pockets. She blushed and averted her eyes. “Yes. Well, you see…I was hoping you might have time…I’m not familiar with the area, and I’m afraid I don’t have much experience driving at all. I do have a license, but parking was such a bear in London, it was always easier to take the underground or hail a cab.”
An idea began to form in Swain’s mind. “Do you ride, Ms. Wetherington?”
“Lillie, please. Ride? I’m not sure I understand.”
Swain waved toward where John had cross-tied Nor’easter in the hallway and was preparing to saddle him. “Horses. Do you know how to ride?”
Lillie hesitated. “I haven’t since I was a child.” She straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. “But I can. I remember being quite good at it, actually.”
She smiled at Lillie’s bravado. “I’ll make a deal with you.”
Lillie’s eyes narrowed. “A deal?”
“Yes. You see, I still have two horses to exercise and I just gave Rob the afternoon off. It’s lunchtime and, since you have no food in the house, I’m guessing that you’re getting pretty hungry. I’ll take you to get some lunch and groceries if you’ll help me exercise the ponies later.”
Lillie’s confidence deflated. “I don’t know that I’m up to dashing headlong up and down a polo field.”
“I’m talking about a leisurely ride on the trails just to stretch their legs and build their stamina. The other horse I need to exercise is Abigail’s old mare. She’s really gentle.”
Lillie nodded enthusiastically. “I could do that.”
Swain raised her voice to carry down the barn corridor. “Hold up on that, John. I’m heading into town for a bit. I’ll ride him when I get back.”
Lillie’s smile was so brilliant, her unguarded beauty so stunning, Swain’s stomach did a small flip. She suddenly couldn’t remember why she’d ever been angry at Lillie, why she needed to be cautious. But she wanted to be the cause of that smile again and again.
Chapter Six
Swain had barely finished
her side salad and picked up the first half of her French-dip hoagie when Lillie polished off her thick corned-beef sandwich and stared at Swain’s plate. Swain pushed the second half of her sandwich toward her.
“No, I couldn’t,” Lillie protested, but unconsciously licked her lips.
“Go ahead. I don’t usually eat lunch.”
Lillie only hesitated a moment before transferring the food to her own plate. “I’m sorry to be so ravenous. I’ve had nothing but airplane food for nearly two days.”
Swain found Lillie’s unladylike appetite amusing. It was the first crack she’d seen in her guest’s proper British manners. “I’m just shocked that someone as thin as you can hold that much.”
Lillie wrinkled her nose in an expression Swain found incredibly cute. “High metabolism,” she said, dipping the sandwich in the cup of beef broth on Swain’s plate.
“I’ll be sure to keep my fingers out of the way.” Swain picked up a French fry from her plate and chewed it thoughtfully. “I have a favor to ask.”
“A favor?”
“Yes.” Swain carefully composed her request. “We’re in the middle of the fall polo season, when the professional teams are preparing for Florida’s winter season. It’s the best time to sell several of the ponies I’ve been training.”
“Not to bring up yesterday’s unpleasantness, but I thought you were opposed to selling the horses.”
Swain pushed her plate away and sat back in her chair “I’m talking about our usual business of training and selling ponies. Not about breaking up the stable.”
Lillie looked surprised. “I’m sorry. I always thought polo was a hobby, not a business.”
“Polo is a tradition, a passion.” Swain corrected her gently. “It’s not a highly profitable business, but we make enough to cover expenses.”
“I see. Then how can I help? As you can tell, I know very little about the sport.”
“I told the rest of the staff this morning about Abigail’s death. I also informed them you came here to run the farm in Abigail’s place.”
“Why did you do that, since I don’t plan to stay?”
Swain spoke in a low voice so no one else lunching in the deli could overhear. “I guarantee you the news that Abigail has passed will be all over town before we make arrangements for her burial. Nor’easter will likely bring in the highest price we’ve ever gotten for a pony. Whitney’s absolutely salivating to buy him. But if even a hint slips out that you’re closing the stable, everyone’ll think we’re desperate to sell and the amount of Whitney’s offer will drop faster than a whore’s panties.”
Lillie stared at Swain for a moment, then burst out laughing.
Swain scowled. “I’m serious, Lillie.”
Lillie covered her mouth with her hand but her shoulders still shook with laughter. “I know, I know.” She struggled to compose herself, dabbing her napkin at the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. “I just can’t believe you said that. Whore’s panties? It’ll be bloody hard to get that image out of my head.”
Swain blushed, then chuckled, too. “I guess I’ve been hanging out with the guys too much lately. It’s not often I have lunch with such polite company.”
“Perhaps we should do something about that,” Lillie said.
“Perhaps we should.”
They smiled at each other.
“Colorful expressions aside, I do understand your point. As you wish, mum’s the word.”
*
In the grocery store, Swain patiently pushed the cart while Lillie frowned and scanned the shelves. They’d covered two-thirds of the store and their basket remained empty.
“I guess a lot of our brands aren’t familiar,” Swain finally said. “If you tell me what you want to cook, I’ll try to point you toward the right things.”
Lillie did the nose-wrinkling thing again. “I’m afraid I have a confession to make.”
“A confession?”
“I’ve never shopped for groceries before.”
“Never? Your mother never took you to the grocery store?”
“Our cook did the shopping. She made marvelous meals, but wouldn’t let anyone in her kitchen. I always wanted to, but never learned to cook…or shop for food.”
Swain tried to wrap her mind around that concept. “I see. Wow. You’ve never been in a grocery store?”
“Don’t look so gobsmacked. I’m sure you know other women who don’t cook.”
Swain made a show of scratching her chin and staring at the floor, as if in deep thought. “I’ve met people who never learned to swim.” She raised her eyes to Lillie’s. “I know a man who never learned to read.”
Lillie playfully pushed Swain on the shoulder. “Now you’re just making fun of me.”
Swain laughed. “Okay. You tell me what you want to eat and I’ll help you find the ingredients and show you how to make it.”
“Really? You know how? You don’t mind teaching me? Are you sure you have time? I don’t want to be a burden.”
The sudden light in Lillie’s eyes, the excitement in her expression warmed Swain in unusual places. Sort of like that smile back at the barn.
“Sure. I can do that. What’s your favorite dinner? We’ll buy the stuff and cook it tonight.”
“Oh, yummy. Steak-and-kidney pie.”
“Yuck. Kidneys? Pick something else.”
Lillie looked disappointed. “Pork pie?”
Swain shook her head.
Lillie’s eyes began to twinkle. “Bangers and mash.”
Swain scowled. “I don’t even want to know what that is.”
“Yorkshire pudding.”
“I don’t cook desserts.”
“That’s not a dessert.”
“I don’t know how to make Yorkshire pudding.”
“I thought you knew how to cook.”
“I do. I’m just not up on British cuisine.” Swain stopped. “Do you like Cajun food?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Do you like shrimp?”
“I love all fish and seafood.”
Swain grinned. It was time for Lillie to learn to eat like a Southerner. “Then you’re in for a treat. Before I ended up in Florida where I learned to ride polo ponies, I spent a year in New Orleans. I started out washing dishes in a restaurant, but ended up working as the chef’s assistant.” She wheeled their cart with purpose toward the seafood section in the corner. “Tonight, Miss Lillie, I’ll prepare the best shrimp and grits you’ve ever put in your mouth.”
“Grits?”
“You’ll love ’em.”
*
“It’s all a bit overwhelming after being raised in a flat,” Lillie said when the hulking Wetherington mansion came into view again.
“The property totals five hundred acres,” Swain said. She steered the BMW down the shaded drive. “The main house and grounds take up only three acres. The stable, polo field, and paddocks sit on about a hundred acres. Another hundred is dedicated to hay fields and about three hundred to woods.” Swain couldn’t picture Abigail’s only child living in a London walk-up, considering Eric grew up on the South Carolina estate. “Why did you live in an apartment instead of a house?”
“Well, it wasn’t just an apartment. It had three bedrooms and baths, not counting the cook’s quarters. It took up the entire top floor of our building. Mum and Dad always enjoyed the city, and it was close to where Dad taught music at the university.”
“Sounds fancy.” Not like the single bed and footlocker she had in the children’s home.
“I suppose.”
Swain pulled the car into the garage next to a vintage Mercedes 450 SL convertible from the 1970s.
“Whose car is that? It’s lovely,” Lillie asked as she got out of the BMW. She ran her hand down the gleaming white fender and along the soft tan leather of the interior.
“Abigail said it belonged to your father. They gave it to him on his eighteenth birthday, but he drove it for only a few months before he left for En
gland and never returned to the States.” She studied Lillie. She’d only known her for a day and Lillie had no reason to confide in her, but curiosity won out. “Whatever happened must have been horrible for a son to stop speaking to his parents for more than twenty years.”
“Does it still run?”
Okay. That subject was obviously off-limits. “I’ll say. Abigail said her husband drove it religiously a couple of times a month to keep it up. After he died, she continued the ritual until I came to work here and she asked me to do it for her. We can take it tomorrow to get your temporary license if you like. Do you know how to drive a stick shift?”
“Yes, but not very well. Perhaps I should stick to Grandmum’s car.” She looked up nervously. “Do you think they’ll make me drive?”
Swain shrugged. “I doubt it. You’ll probably just have to take a written test that’s mostly identifying signs. If you’re worried, though, they have a study booklet available online to give you some practice before we go to the licensing bureau. Abigail refused to use computers, but we have several in the barn office.”
“I have a laptop.”
“Even better. You should be able to log into the barn’s wireless Internet from the house.”
They took the groceries inside and put them away quickly. Swain eyed Lillie’s attire.
“Your jeans will do fine for riding,” she said, “but you’ll need to wear something other than those shoes.”
“Grandmum and I wore the same size. I’m sure she has some riding boots upstairs.”
“You go look and meet me in the barn,” Swain suggested, turning toward the back door. She didn’t want to go into Abigail’s private quarters and rifle through her things. It would be the ultimate admission that she was never coming back, a reminder that Swain’s home at the Wetherington estate would soon be history.
*
Swain was talking to a groom, her back to Lillie and her shoulder propped against the wall. Lillie slowed her pace, letting her eyes move from the wide span of Swain’s shoulders to the knee-high pair of scuffed riding boots. She imagined the tight muscles of that delicious rump moving under soft skin…flexing as she pulled Swain tighter between her legs—Bloody hell! She shook her head to clear it, then smiled at her salacious thought. Everything that had happened in the past year had numbed her feelings and her interest in life. She was relieved that her pulse was racing again.
Call Me Softly Page 4