by Jenny Lykins
"Yo hoss, suh?"
"Yes, my horse." He began to fidget. "Oh, never mind!" He turned on his heel and strode the length of the barn, disappearing into the last stall. A heartbeat later a huge, magnificent horse exploded from the enclosure with Hunter leaning low atop its sleek, bare back. In moments even the distant sound of the horse's thundering hoofs dissipated into nothingness.
Marin glanced at Andre, who stood, scratching his head.
"He sho nuff didn't tell me to saddle his hoss."
Before Marin could reply, she felt a tug on her skirts. Katie stood with the black kitten draped like a limp rag over her shoulder, a tiny fistful of Marin's skirts still in her hand. She knew what was coming.
CHAPTER EIGHT
His mother would be back as soon as her "friends'" tolerance ran out, he had a brand new daughter he never knew existed and who was grieving her dead mother, and his newest employee caused a glorious ache in the most disconcerting places when she brushed up against him. Even when she smelled of horse dung!
Could his life possibly become more complicated? He was over-run with females in his own home. Perhaps his sister would leave her husband and bring their two daughters to live at Pierce Hall. Dear Lord, no! He dare not even think it.
He gave Mystic free rein and allowed the horse to thunder across a well-established cotton field. He hoped fervently to leave the disquieting feelings Miss Alexander stirred in him behind in the trampled, green plants.
Drat the woman! When he'd helped her from the carriage after the funeral, he'd nearly flung her from him, so strong was the shock of her touch. Her kiss in the library had turned his bones to butter until the sting of her slap chased the tenderness away.
And now! Now her frivolous act of leaning against him, even with that reeking gown, had caused every nerve in his body - some in a most unfortunate region - to stand at attention.
Why had he gone to investigate the giggling? Why hadn't he just saddled Mystic, as he'd intended, and gone his merry way? Instead, he had wandered to the open stall and witnessed Marin rolling in horse manure, buried in kittens and little girl ruffles and making him wish he was welcome in the fray.
Damn.
Well, from now on she would know her place and not leave it. He would speak to her about becoming Katie's governess instead of his mother's so-called companion. That position had been a farce from the first day. She would still perform her secretarial duties, and between that and governing Katie, Miss Alexander would find little time to brush her gardenia-cum-manure scented body against his. Yes, that was the answer.
That problem resolved, Hunter turned his thoughts to Katie. Watching her romp in the stable had inspired him with a plan. With a nudge of his knee he turned Mystic back toward town. Widow Trumbull was the person to see for his needs.
He felt positively brilliant!
And Marin thought he lacked the care to be a father.
*******
The fragrant bath water had cooled to a refreshing chill before Marin realized how long they'd soaked.
She was curled up in one end of the tub, watching Katie splash at her feet. The little girl had stripped to the buff and scrambled into the water without so much as a by-your-leave. Marin had never known how marvelous and maternal the feel of wet, baby skin against her own could be. Katie had cuddled up to her and patiently waited to be soaped down, then executed a mini water ballet while Marin scrubbed the stable smells from herself.
"Are you ready to get out, Little Miss Katie?" she asked as she rose from the tub and grabbed a towel.
"No, ma'am." Katie's half-submerged pirouette threw a wave of water dangerously close to the rim.
Marin smiled to herself while she finished toweling her hair dry and slipped on a gauzy nightgown. The little chocolate-haired moppet was so cute. She was blowing bubbles in the water when Mamie bustled in with a pitcher of warm milk.
"My, my. What kinda fish do we got here?" Mamie hovered over Katie and studied her as if she were a candidate for that night's main course.
"Smell me, Mamie! I smell like Mawin!" Katie stood and thrust her dripping little belly out to be sniffed, which Mamie did with exaggerated enthusiasm.
"Mmmm, mmmm. You smells jest like a flower in a garden. But we needs to get you in your night clothes afore your daddy gets home. He don't want to see no nekkid flowers runnin' 'round.
Katie giggled and raised her arms to be lifted from the tub. Mamie enveloped her in a huge, linen towel, and with a deftness that surprised Marin, had her dried, dressed and combed in no time at all.
Katie accepted the glass of warm milk Mamie offered with a polite, "Thank you." Seconds after Mamie shuffled from the room, Katie smiled up at Marin with a milk mustache clear up to her nose.
"Will you read me a story, Mawin?"
Those huge, blue eyes were hard to turn down. Marin slipped a dressing robe over her nightgown and knotted the belt.
"Do you have a favorite story?"
Damp ringlets bobbed in affirmation. "Mama always tells me about the princess and the crow."
Marin's heart sank on two accounts. She'd never even heard about a crow and a princess, and Katie had no sooner mentioned her mother before her eyes puddled up and her lower lip slid out.
"I have an idea!" Marin clasped her hands together enthusiastically, trying to distract Katie from her thoughts. "Why don't we go raid the nursery and see if we can find that book?" She glanced at the basket on the bed. "And, of course, we'll have to take the kitten."
Katie brightened immediately. She ran to the bed and gently lifted the basket. The folded pillowcase Katie had insisted on covering the cat with undulated for a moment, but the buried kitten seemed to settle back into a sound sleep.
Marin mentally patted herself on the back. This kitten had been a stroke of genius.
*******
He could barely wait to see Katie's reaction. Though it had been somewhat embarrassing when Widow Trumbull had sniffed the air and asked him if he had stepped in something, his momentary unease would be worth it. He just hoped Katie was still awake.
Several steps creaked as he crept up the stairs. He would have to get Nathan to fix that. In the meantime, he hugged the edge of the staircase, shifted the heavy box in his hands when he reached the landing, then continued up the stairs.
It was absolutely ridiculous that he was tip-toeing down his own hallway. But oddly enough, he relished the long-forgotten feeling of boyish excitement.
Katie was probably in Marin's room, as she had been the past two nights. He hesitated outside the closed door, uncertain now of how to proceed. Should he wake Katie up if she was already asleep? Did he really want to run into his disconcerting employee again? What if she was all soft and clean and in her night clothes?
Just then the bedroom door flew open, and the two females in question barrelled right into him.
The box he was holding thudded to the floor when Marin bounced off his chest. Katie staggered backward from her collision with his leg, a basket she was carrying swinging like a church bell.
A half-grown cat popped its head above the basket rim just as the startled puppy scrambled from the box.
An indignant yowl rent the air, and a black blur flew from the basket to land, claws bared, directly on the back of the golden-haired puppy. The puppy yelped in pain, and for a moment a huge tornado of gold and black fur swept down the hallway, upsetting everything in its path and leaving tiny, yellow puddles in its wake.
The yowling and yelping increased in volume until it rivaled the storm they were so accurately imitating. Finally, the puppy dislodged the outraged cat, then wasted no time in finding the biggest piece of furniture in sight and disappearing into the darkest regions beneath it. Unfortunately it was Marin's bed. The cat, on the other hand, defied gravity by soaring, hackles raised, to first the washstand and then the top of the armoire.
Quiet and sanity settled over the scene like a fluttering blanket. Katie stood stock still, her mouth open in surprise, her ey
es as round as sand dollars. Marin was in better shape, only because her mouth was closed.
"Sweet Jesus in Heaven! What you peoples doin' up there? Ambrose, fetch the gun!" Mamie, followed closely by Ambrose, Izzy and Emmaletta crowded up the stairs at a hesitant pace.
"Everything is fine, Mamie, other than a few...er...puddles that need mopping up." Hunter waved away her concern. "I believe we just introduced the two newest members of our family to each other, and it appears they took an immediate dislike."
Katie snapped out of her shock with Hunter's words.
"A puppy!" she squealed, then ran back into Marin's room and stuffed her upper body under the bed. "Here puppypuppypuppy," she cooed as her rump disappeared beneath the massive four-poster.
Marin leapt into action and ran to grab a tiny foot before it, too, disappeared, but she was a heartbeat too slow. Hunter stood in the frame of the door and watched Marin's ivory dressing gown pool around her as she sank to her knees. Her still-damp hair cascaded down her back with an occasional wispy curl caressing her cheek.
He was aware of his heartbeat pounding in his ears and the birth of an ache in the pit of his stomach.
"Katie, the puppy's scared. He might bite you if you get too close."
Dear God! He hadn't thought of that! He was on his knees beside Marin in an instant, the two of them calling out orders for Katie to come out from under the bed.
"But I want to see the puppy! Here puppypuppy!"
She was deep in the nether regions under the bed. Too far to reach without going in after her. He was just about to slide himself under when Katie started giggling hysterically and backing out.
When Katie got close to the edge, they could see what all the mirth was about. As she inched her way backward, the puppy inched its way forward, apparently having overcome its fear in exchange for the delicacy of the dried milk on Katie's upper lip.
Marin broke into musical laughter at the sight. Hunter joined his rumbling chuckle with hers and turned to smile at her.
Her golden eyes sparkled with delight, and her porcelain skin held a rosy glow when she lifted her gaze to meet his. The elusive hint of gardenia swirled through his senses, heating his blood and bringing all those accursed nerves to attention again.
The laughter died on his lips as her eyes deepened to amber. The gaiety there turned serious.
Suddenly he found nothing to laugh about.
He had to get away from this woman. She was making him feel things he swore never to feel again, question his life in areas he didn't care to examine. He picked Katie up and delivered a kiss on her milk-scented cheek. As much as he would have enjoyed staying and watching his tiny daughter get acquainted with her new pets, he knew it would be too dangerous to spend one more minute within breathing distance of Marin Alexander.
"I have several things I need to attend to. Good night, Katie, Miss Alexander."
Her voice drifted on the breeze as he strode hurriedly to put distance between them.
"Pleasant dreams, Hunter."
*******
The constant rhythmic beep filtered into her dreams as nothing more than a muffled, distant echo. As the sound became clearer and louder, she could no longer ignore it.
It almost sounds electronic, her sleep-fogged mind assessed. She struggled to open her eyes, but fatigue overwhelmed her. What did it matter, anyway? She mentally scrunched deeper into the warmth of her covers and turned her thoughts back to sleep.
"Marin," a quiet, baritone voice spoke. "Marin, it's time to go."
Ohhh, just let me sleep, she moaned silently.
"Marin. Open your eyes."
She fought her way through the dark cobwebs of sleep. Why was she so tired? And why was he making her wake up?
Somewhere deep in her subconscious a spark of recognition flared.
RYAN!
It took enormous effort to open her eyes even a slit. Oh, Ryan, don't leave 'til I can see you!
The rhythmic beep increased in speed, then became so rapid it was no longer a beep but a ululating tone.
"Hello, Fireball," his beloved voice broke over her in warm waves.
Marin tried to speak his name, but the sound caught in her throat. She finally managed to open her eyes enough to focus on the cherished face before her. When she did, the beeping went into erratic fits.
She was in a hospital room - a twentieth century hospital room. And Ryan stood beside her bed, the fluorescent light in the hallway shining through him like candlelight through gauze. He wore his green Air Force flight suit. Under his arm was his flight helmet.
His name came out as a sob this time. He quickly grabbed the hand she tried to reach out, careful of the needle and tube protruding from her wrist. The warmth of his vaporous fingers caused an ache in her too deep to bear.
"Don't try to talk, Fireball. Your jaw is wired shut." He knelt beside the bed, his face so painfully near, yet she couldn't move to touch it. Nothing seemed to work except her left hand, and that not very well.
"You're pretty broken up, Fireball. You can't move because you're in traction." He looked uneasy. His hand passed across her forehead, over what should have been soft curls. But the raspy feel of a bandage blocked the warmth of his touch. "It's time to go, Marin. I've come to get you. It's easy, sweetheart. All you have to do is let go."
She tried to convey her panicked questions through her eyes. The beeping turned into fitful spasms. She finally realized the sound was that of a heart monitor. Her heart monitor.
No, Ryan, no! I'm not ready to die! I love you, but I'm not finished living! What about Hunter? What about Katie?
"Just let go, sweetheart, and I'll take you home."
"Are you doing aerobics in here, or have you just seen Brad Pitt walk down the hall?" A nurse clad in scrubs walked into the room. She smiled at Marin, then flicked the stethoscope from around her neck and listened intently to Marin's chest. She straightened and placed her hand on Marin's finger.
"If you're in pain, tap your fingers once. If you're really hurting, tap twice."
Marin, paying no attention to the nurse, heard only to tap her fingers. She tapped aggitatedly until the nurse's hand stopped her. Compassionate eyes searched Marin's. There was pain there, Marin knew, but not the kind the nurse was looking for.
"Let me give you something for that. Your heart rate's really kicked in, and this will help the pain." She produced a syringe from her pocket and slide it into the I.V. tube.
Ryan remained by the bed, only inches from the nurse, yet unseen. She continued to check Marin carefully, all the while Ryan coaxing, "Let go. Come with me, Marin. All you have to do is want it."
Tears filled her eyes as she was torn between worlds. Ryan was dead. Hunter and Katie, in her other life, were alive. Could she get back to them?
The nurse saw the tears spill from the corners of her eyes to soak the bandage covering her temples.
"You'll feel better soon. I guarantee it," she said with compassion, misreading the tears.
Marin tried to thank her with her eyes, but Ryan held her gaze.
His face was the picture of peace. Oh, how she was tempted to go with him.
I'm sorry, Ryan. I'm not finished yet.
The nurse turned to leave, gasping and nearly staggering as her body passed right through Ryan's. Though she must have felt some sensation, it was obvious the woman still saw nothing. She glanced around the room, checking her own pulse as she backed out the door.
When Marin looked back, Ryan was fading from her vision, his hand stretched out to her, beseeching her to come with him. As he disappeared, she feared he took a large part of her soul with him.
The pain killer sent waves of lethargy crashing over her. The thought of Ryan became harder and harder to focus on. She closed her eyes as more tears soaked her bandages.
Maybe she should let go.
"Marin."
Oh, God. She couldn't take much more of this.
She turned her head toward the sound of the now familiar
voice.
Hunter sat on the edge of her bed. Her ghost in black trousers and waistcoat. Her mischievous ghost with the impossible dimples, which now wavered in all their glory through her drug-blurred vision. His eyes grew serious and the dimples disappeared when he leaned close.
"Come back to me, Marin." The yearning in his steady blue gaze was so different from the peaceful green of Ryan's eyes. An almost tangible pain leapt from him and entered her soul. The wounded spirit of a little boy, then a young soldier, and finally an embittered man spiraled through her.
"Can you not feel my need for you?"
She could barely nod, so strong was her drug-induced weariness. She lacked the strength to move, but her thoughts reached out to him. As her eyes fluttered closed, though her jaw was wired, she knew the taste of his kiss on her tongue before the blackness swallowed her completely.
CHAPTER NINE
The insistent, metallic clank of the brass door knocker continued to resound through the house, even after the acceptable number of knocks. Continued, in fact, until Ambrose, who was serving Hunter's morning coffee in the dining room, made his way to the front door in his usual unhurried fashion and opened that portal until the knocker was out of Niles Kilpatrick's reach.
The dining room was not so far removed that Hunter couldn't hear their conversation.
"I'm here to see Mari, and I'll not be leavin' until I do."
"Miz Marin still be abed, suh."
"I'll not be put off! I'll see her in her bed, if need be. After all, I'm to be her husband. And her name is Mari!"
Hunter whisked the napkin from his lap and flung it onto the table beside his coffee cup. The man was making a pest of himself. Hunter refused to analyze the insidious emotion he was experiencing over Kilpatrick's pursuit of Marin.
"Pierce!" Niles called upon seeing Hunter enter the foyer, "I'll not be put off another minute. I demand to see me Mari, and see her I will. Your people will be giving me no more excuses, nor turning me away at the door." Niles elbowed his way past Ambrose and stood nose to nose with Hunter. "What have ye done with me Mari?"