It had barely left his mallet when Swain and Nor’easter were galloping at full speed on a trajectory to intercept the pass. But a player from the other team, in a more advantageous position farther down the field, also turned his pony toward the ball. It would have been a race even Nor’easter couldn’t have won, if Rob and Hard Knox hadn’t appeared out of nowhere. They gave the other pony a hard, but legal, bump that nearly unseated his rider.
Swain was in the clear. Julia and Flash cut off the only opposing player guarding the goal. Bending low over Nor’easter’s neck, Swain raised her stick high overhead, bringing it down to strike the ball with a loud thwack. As the blur of white soared past, the player guarding the goal threw his mallet on the ground. He’d had no chance of stopping it.
The Raiders were victorious.
“Catherine and I screamed and cheered like blokes at a football game. I’m amazed that I have any voice left.” Lillie’s expression softened and she cupped Swain’s cheek. “My champion.”
The admiration, the affection in Lillie’s eyes would be burned into Swain’s brain, her heart, forever. It was a soul-deep warmth she’d never felt in the cold world that had been her life. Or maybe she’d been living in a netherworld, waiting for life…waiting for this woman, this moment. She leaned closer to this light, this beacon that was Lillie drawing her.
The microwave chimed and Swain shook herself mentally. In another moment, Lillie’s lips would have been on hers and she would have surrendered. Instead, she retreated, to the refrigerator, and retrieved a chilled bottle of wine.
Ignoring Lillie’s frustrated sigh she turned her attention to locating a corkscrew. Lillie set the plate on the table with silverware for one, along with two wineglasses.
“This is a lot of food. You’re not eating?” Swain asked as she poured the wine.
“I’ve been grazing all day, so I’m not really hungry.” She popped a cheese straw into her mouth.
“So, tell me what you and Catherine did while I was riding ponies,” Swain said, moving the mood to a safer level. “Every time I looked over at the tent, you were holding court with a full house.”
Lillie seemed to accept her retreat and began recounting her day in detail. She swiped a few tidbits from Swain’s plate as she talked, so Swain began feeding every third or fourth forkful to Lillie as she listened. When the plate was empty and Lillie’s day fully recounted, Swain reluctantly stood and slid her plate into the dishwasher.
“Well, I guess I better head back to the barn so you can get some rest. Thanks for dinner.” She walked to the back door.
“Wait!” Lillie opened her mouth to say something, then looked confused about what she wanted to say.
“Lillie?”
“You need to take this trophy with you and put it with the others,” she said quickly. She hurried out of the room and returned with a huge silver bowl. “To the victor, the spoils,” she said lightly, handing it to Swain.
“Ah, but I’m only your champion, my lady. The prize is yours,” Swain said slowly, looking deep into Lillie’s eyes.
Lillie stepped closer. Her hands caressed Swain’s face, her voice soft. “Then to this victor, the spoils.”
Swain lowered her head and met the soft brush of Lillie’s lips. When she felt them part against her mouth, the residual lust of the afternoon’s battle surged in her veins, thick and hot. She was powerless to resist further. She dropped the trophy and pulled Lillie roughly to her. Lillie’s heart beat wildly against her own as she plundered Lillie’s mouth and claimed her prize. Lillie moaned and sagged against her, relinquishing herself to Swain’s passion. She lifted her chin, her graceful neck an offering to Swain’s lips and tongue.
“Swain. Oh, Swain.”
Her name was music on Lillie’s lips, a hypnotic call.
She spun them around to pin Lillie against the wall, her thigh fitting between Lillie’s, finding her heat. Lillie’s hips undulated against the pressure, her hands clawed at Swain’s back.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, love. Make me yours.”
But Lillie wasn’t hers, would never be hers. She’d return to England, to a world of wealthy friends, theater, and city living. A world where Swain—with horse sweat on her clothes and manure on her boots—didn’t belong. Trembling with the effort to rein in her fervor, she pushed away, averting her eyes from Lillie’s gaze. She crossed her arms over her chest to securely tuck away her hands, the traitors that a moment before had been inches from tearing open Lillie’s blouse to caress her breasts.
“No. God, I’m sorry. No.” Swain scooped up the trophy from the floor and fled.
*
Lillie was stunned. Nothing but a cold chill remained where Swain’s heat and hard muscle had been pressed against her seconds before. She ran her mind over the previous two minutes. Had she said something wrong? Did Swain have a lover that Lillie didn’t know about?
She considered following her to the barn and demanding an explanation. But when she opened the back door, the pounding of hooves and the dark silhouette fleeing toward the moonlit trails made it clear she would get no answers tonight.
Damn it to bloody hell. She closed the door and locked it, then set the alarm. When she had first asked Swain to wait, she had intended to finally tell her about the man stalking her. But when she looked into those blue eyes and heard her name on those lips, all she could think about was kissing her. And Swain’s response left no doubt that she wanted to kiss Lillie. So, why did she run?
Her thoughts and emotions were reeling, spinning too fast for her to sleep, and taking care of her physical arousal herself held no appeal. She wanted Swain, and nothing else would come close to satisfying her.
So, Lillie filled the deep claw-footed tub in her bathroom and climbed in to let the soothing water drain the tension from her body and the noise from her head. She lay back and closed her eyes, concentrating on calming her emotions.
But as she relaxed, images of Swain seeped into her thoughts. Her hips spasmed and her ovaries tingled at the memory of the tempest that was Swain. Startled by her reaction, Lillie sprang from her bath and dried quickly. She usually slept in her silk panties, but tonight she dressed in pajamas to suppress her disobedient body.
She grabbed her laptop from the dresser and climbed into bed. Maybe catching up on her e-mail would distract her. She booted up the computer and clicked for her messages to download.
As she waited, she glanced at the French doors that led to the balcony. If she opened them a bit, would she hear the hoofbeats when Swain returned? The ping sounded that indicated her download was complete, so she redirected her attention and scanned down through her mail. Curiously, one file showed her own addy, as though she had sent it to herself. She opened it and froze.
Did you let the pussy out of the closet yet?
It was him. He had been in this house, in this bedroom. He had locked the cat in the closet. And now, he had hacked into her e-mail account. She read the rest of his words and the double entendre of the first line became clear.
Has Swain had a ride on more than just your ponies? She can’t give you what you need. You need a man to give you a Wetherington heir.
She punched the Delete key and closed the laptop without properly shutting it down, as though she could shut him out, erase him from her life. She returned the computer to the dresser, then looked around the bedroom.
He wasn’t hiding in the bathroom. She had just come from there. She darted over to the French doors. They were securely locked, but she pulled the heavy drapes together to cover them. The walk-in closet. He could be there. She grabbed her cell phone from the bedside table and punched in Swain’s number. The call went immediately to voice mail. Damn it.
“Swain, it’s Lillie. I’m sorry. Listen, please call me. I don’t care what time. I need to tell you something.” She had to warn her about the stalker. Then she needed to disappear. She entertained a fleeting hope that Swain would go with her. But Swain wouldn’t run. She wouldn’t understand how dangerous this
man was. She hadn’t lost both her parents to his “accidents.” She hadn’t felt his filthy hands on her, his disgusting erection against her belly.
She pulled a pair of sharp scissors from the table’s drawer and held them like a dagger as she approached the closet cautiously. The door was partially open and she pushed it slowly back. Quickly flipping the light switch, she breathed in relief when the only things illuminated were clothes and shoes. She knelt some distance from the bed and peered underneath. Nothing there.
Although the alarm was on, she went to the bedroom door and locked it, too, then crawled under the bed covers, the scissors tucked beneath her pillow. She turned off the bedside lamp and let her eyes adjust to the dim illumination of the bathroom’s nightlight. She clutched a pillow to her chest, against the terrified thumping of her heart. It would be a long time until dawn.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The room was still dark when Lillie woke with a start. She had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep, but continued to wake at every small sound. The noises coming from the kitchen were probably what woke her this time.
She looked at the digital clock, surprised to see the red numbers read ten thirty. Then she realized the heavy drapes were blocking the morning sun. The house phone rang twice, then stopped. She cautiously picked it up to listen, then relaxed when she recognized Mary’s voice. She was talking to John, who apparently was calling from the barn, so she quietly replaced the receiver.
Her muscles, tight and sore from the tense night, protested when she swung her feet to the floor. She stretched carefully. She had to see Swain. She flung the curtains back to flood the room in sunlight. A lone rider was on the polo field below, but it was Rob, not Swain, exercising Sunne.
Lillie dressed quickly and went downstairs. Mary was taking a tray of fresh muffins out of the oven and offered her one.
“I can scramble you some eggs and cut up some fresh fruit, too, if you like. The coffee’s still hot, but you need to show me how you like your tea brewed.”
Lillie hesitated. The muffins smelled delicious and, although she usually preferred tea, she would kill for some coffee after her sleepless night. “Coffee will do for this morning, thanks.” She sat at the table where Mary placed a huge muffin and a steaming mug of aromatic coffee. She saw no point in running down to the barn until she was fed and awake enough for her head to be clear.
Mary looked at her curiously. “Are you feeling okay, hon? You said you were usually an early riser, and you still look tired.”
“No, I’m fine. I guess all the excitement of the polo match yesterday had me stirred up. I didn’t sleep very well. I kept waking up.”
Mary bustled around the kitchen, washing the dishes she’d dirtied when making the muffins. “I don’t know how you ever sleep at all in this big house by yourself. But then I haven’t had a night all to myself since I married twenty-five years ago. When Frank wasn’t home, the kids were crawling in bed with me. If I had an hour of quiet, I wouldn’t know what in the world to do with it.”
Lillie finished her coffee and pushed her plate away. “These muffins are delicious. Perhaps I should take a few down for Swain.”
“No need. John called up from the barn a while ago. He said Swain left early this morning and wanted him to let me know she’d be out of town the rest of the week and didn’t need me to leave a dinner plate for her.”
“She’s gone?” Lillie stood so abruptly, she had to catch her chair to keep it from toppling. No! Everything was getting too jumbled up. She was the one who was supposed to leave. But when she heard that Swain was gone, the pain that cut through her chest and stole her breath left her reeling.
Mary looked as surprised as Lillie felt. “She didn’t tell you?”
“I saw her last night, and she didn’t say anything about it.”
“Oh, dear. I hope it wasn’t a family emergency or something. Maybe she got a call during the night and had to leave immediately. John didn’t say. I just took for granted it was some kind of business trip. But you’d know about it, if it was.” She dried her hands and picked up the phone. “I’ll call John and see what he knows.”
“No…thanks.” Lillie ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. Swain didn’t have any family. Wait, she did have a brother. Had he called? Grandmum’s letter said they believed he was dead. Was there other family Swain hadn’t talked about? “I’ll go down and talk with John. I want to check on some things at the barn anyway.”
“Today is an early dismissal day for schools, so I thought I’d pick up Dani and then fix a light lunch since you got up late today.”
Lillie edged toward the door, trying not to look like she was bolting to the barn. “Take your time. I’m sure I won’t be hungry anytime soon.” She forced herself to stroll casually off the terrace, then broke into a jog. What was she afraid of?
She feared something even worse than her stalker—that she’d never see Swain again.
*
John was washing down the filly Swain had bought at the track.
“Good morning.” Lillie hoped she didn’t sound too breathless after her jog to the barn.
“Morning, Miss Lillie.”
“I don’t suppose Swain is about.”
John kept his eyes on his task, but he didn’t look happy. “Nope. Left early this morning.”
Lillie waited, but he wasn’t offering any further information. Obviously, she would have to pull it out of him. “Where was she going?”
“Florida.”
“Does she have family there?”
John glanced at her. “Never heard her talk about any.” He dipped his sponge in the soapy water and began washing the filly’s neck. “Florida’s where they play the winter polo season.”
Lillie brightened. “Yes, that’s right. That’s where the team they beat yesterday was going.” She frowned as recall began to click in. “But someone said their season doesn’t start until January.”
“That’s right.”
“Why would Swain go now, in the middle of the polo season here?”
“Don’t know.”
“Did she go down there to look at a horse?”
“Didn’t take a trailer with her. Said she was gonna catch a flight out of Columbia.”
Had Swain fled to a lover in Florida? “Damn it, man. You didn’t ask why she was going?”
John dropped his sponge in the bucket and faced her, his irritation clear. But was he put out with her or with Swain?
“Maybe those fellers this weekend told her about a job. Maybe she’s interviewing with some other stable to train ponies down there since nobody knows what’s going to happen here. I can’t think of any other reason she’d leave in the middle of our polo season.”
Lillie’s anger faltered. She looked toward the door to Swain’s apartment. “She’s leaving?” Even she could hear the quiver in her voice. The possibility of being completely alone again was like a cold hand around her heart. She hadn’t felt it so keenly since the day Abigail breathed her last. She nearly choked on her next words. “Is she coming back?”
She must have looked as though she would faint, because John grabbed her arm to guide her to sit on a bale of hay in the barn’s hallway. He looked worried.
“Maybe she did go to look at a horse, and she’s just going to have him shipped back here. Could be somebody’s paying her to fly down and show them how to handle some problem horse. She got a pretty penny to do that a couple of years ago.” He knelt and took her hand. “Don’t listen to me. I’m just being an old grouch because she left behind that Sasquatch she calls a dog. He worries me to death when she’s gone, pacing around the barn and whining.”
“She didn’t take Beau?” Lillie’s heart lifted. She wouldn’t leave Beau unless she planned to come back.
“No. She didn’t know how long she’d be gone, but she’s definitely coming back. She loves that mutt more than anything.”
Lillie looked around. “Where is he?”
“Last time I
saw him, he was scratching on the door to go upstairs. Looking for Swain, I reckon. I opened the door for him and left it cracked so he could come back down when he wants. I’ll lock it before I leave tonight.”
“Do you think she would mind if I went up to check on him?”
“I’m sure she’d be fine with it,” John said. “If his bowl’s empty, would you pour him some food and check his water bowl?”
“Of course.”
Lillie climbed the stairs cautiously. Although Beau knew her, he might be very protective of his home while Swain was away. She peeked in the kitchen and called to him. No response. Both of his bowls were still full. She looked into the study, but no dog. She walked into the living room and called again.
“Beau? Where are you, boy?”
A low moan came from the bedroom. Was he sick or hurt? She expected to find him sprawled on the bed, but didn’t see him. Where could an animal that size hide?
“Beau?” Another long, mournful moan.
She followed the sound into the walk-in closet where she found him curled up on a pile of Swain’s laundry he had pulled from the hamper.
“What are you doing in here, boy?” She sat on the floor to stroke his head and gently scratch behind his ears. She had never seen such misery in an animal’s eyes.
“Oh, Beau. She’s coming back. She’d never leave you for long.” He heaved a dramatic sigh and she chuckled, his antics taking her mind off her own sense of loss. “Moping around won’t bring her back any sooner. And I’m fairly certain she won’t be happy that you’re shedding all over her clothes, even if they are headed for the wash. We need to put all of these back in the hamper.”
She pulled a polo shirt from under his leg and was about to toss it in the hamper when she caught a whiff of Swain’s scent. She brought the shirt to her nose and closed her eyes, reveling in the smell of vanilla and raspberries, sweat, horses, and hay. She flashed back to the lips that had claimed hers, the body that had pressed her against the kitchen wall, and the passion that had burned so hot between them.
Call Me Softly Page 17