As they moved down the hall, she felt the increased pressure of his grip, and she realized he wasn’t as strong yet as he would like to think. Without words, she moved his arm around her shoulders to bear more of his weight.
When they reached the parlor, she had to allow him to seat her first, though she knew he was worn out. He stood for a moment by the fire, seemingly lost in thought, and she began to fidget.
He cleared his throat and turned to face her, leaning heavily on his cane. “We need to talk.”
Oh, dear. She didn’t want him bringing up any heavy conversation topics tonight. Even though she loved him dearly, she knew their passion was all there could be. She wouldn’t ask for a commitment, not with her existence here so tenuous. Frantically, she tried to think of a change of subject, but he continued.
“I am still a cripple,” he began, his gaze shifting away from her face, “and not yet capable of providing—”
“Providing what?” she interrupted, not allowing him to demean himself. “Nothing about your physical self keeps you from caring for the people who live at Wildwood. Why do you give so much to others and not want happiness for yourself?”
He looked totally taken back by her words. “How can you say that? I’ve done nothing but take from you and Cameron — from everyone — since the accident.”
She jumped up and stood directly in front of him, placing her hands on either side of his face. She gazed steadily into his eyes and longed to tell him how very much she loved him. Yet in his present state of mind, she wondered if it would only create another imaginary burden for him to carry
His left hand raised, clasping hers as he turned and kissed her palm. “You must know how I feel,” he sighed, “but I have commitments — debts to be paid.” His eyes hardened as he gazed off into the distance. “Mason Edwardson holds the notes to Wildwood, and would like nothing better than to take what is mine.”
“Even though you were once engaged to his daughter?” She didn’t understand the lack of loyalty.
He snorted. “Perhaps because of that relationship, he is more determined than ever.”
She huffed with indignation. “Well, we’ll have to make sure he doesn’t succeed. How much will it take?”
“I must raise two thousand dollars by the first of June to satisfy the mortgage.”
“Oh, is that all?”
He looked as though she had sprouted another head. “Good God, woman, don’t you have any concept of the value of a dollar?”
“Well, of course, I do; I think.” She recalled what she had learned about the cost of items here in 1875 and realized money didn’t have the same value when compared to what she would have made for a photo shoot. She damned herself for not paying closer attention in history class. If there were something she could invent with knowledge of the future, even if it would change history, she would do it for Nicholas’s sake.
The only thing that came to mind was the Kentucky Derby. According to what Cameron had told her, bets were placed at the county races, but only friendly wagers, and not the kind of money they needed. Though she didn’t know what kind of money the Derby would garner for the winner, she intended to find out.
She smiled, sure in her love and in her course of action. “We shall enter Wind Dancer in the Kentucky Derby and with the winnings, you can pay off your debts.”
He scowled. “The Kentucky Derby? I have never heard of it.”
She shirked. Did the Derby exist yet? If not, perhaps she would put a bug in someone’s ear and they would create it. “It’s a marvelously grand horse race held at Churchill Downs, and we are going to win it.”
She heard Cameron speaking to Selkirk outside the door and decided now was a good time to say good night. She reached up on tiptoes and kissed him. “I will write them tonight and find out the date of the race.” She tried to hide her excitement, and only hoped her knowledge of the future was yet another reason she had been sent here.
* * *
“You have done well, Herr Nicholas,” the old wood carver stated, running his hands over the satin surface of the horse Nicholas had carved.
Nicholas had met Gustav Dentzel in the barn before the other guests began to arrive. After everything he had learned, he couldn’t bring himself to complete the carousel animal for Jaci, and yet he knew in his heart it must be finished.
“Take the horse, Gustav, for one of your carousels. But I would ask that you paint it midnight black.”
“Nein! Black is no color for so beautiful a creature.” Gustav shook his head.
“Come.” Nicholas led his friend to the barn entrance, pointing to where Wind Dancer pranced inside the paddock. “Have you ever seen a more magnificent animal? Please, friend, paint the horse black, for it is Wind Dancer, and also my dreams of the future.”
His chest constricted with fear for what might happen when Jaci saw the wooden horse again, but he also knew they had to bring the story full circle. He had stared at her photograph until his eyes crossed, and nothing changed the fact that she had taken a picture of this very carving. However, when she came back in time, with the picture, he hadn’t created the carousel horse yet.
He had tried, and failed, to logically plot the course of their relationship and what had happened. It always began with his discovery of her beauty beneath the mud from his horse pens, and ended with her passionate response to his lovemaking. It came back to that every time. He loved her; he was sure she loved him, and all the rest seemed inconsequential. He had to put his faith in their love; and pray that it was enough for the task ahead.
* * *
Jaci’s gaze found Nicholas slowly walking up from the barn with Mr. Dentzel. Theirs was a strange relationship, considering the differences in their ages. Looking around at the assembled guests, however, it didn’t appear Nicholas’s age interfered with doing business and associating with any generation.
A frown replaced her smile as she observed the two. Adamant, Nicholas waved his arm in a wide arc towards the horses, and Dentzel shook his head. Soon, the wood carver nodded, shook Nicholas’s hand, and turned towards the shade of the gazebo. Jaci wondered what that had been about.
She continued watching from the porch as Nicholas brushed the hair back from his forehead. He was casually dressed, white shirt with sleeves rolled up, snug trousers tucked into knee high riding boots. He was still thinner than before the accident, but he was eating well. When he turned, she knew his gaze followed the horses as they warmed up on the track. Nicholas hadn’t been training, and he most definitely wasn’t racing today, but he still had a lead rope dangling from his back pocket.
“Nice buns,” she mumbled under her breath.
“What you need, Miss Eastman?” Delta asked as she stepped past her, platters of food in her arms.
Jaci laughed and offered to help the cook carry things out to the huge tables that had been constructed out of boards and sawhorses and placed under the trees. Her last glance of Nicholas found him approaching Wind Dancer. He leaned on his cane only slightly now. It was good to see him able to work with his horses, and be outside. In those few minutes, she fell in love with him all over again.
Chuckling to herself, she turned away from the track to finish the preparations for the bar-b-que. Guests had started arriving early that morning. The house was full of women, visiting and embroidering, as their husbands mingled around the track, good naturedly joking and placing wagers.
She had been amazed at the number of children spilling from the carriages as they arrived. If she had known, she would have invited them over long before this to play with Amanda. All the little girls had squealed with delight when Amanda had whispered there were kittens in the barn. In a flurry of rainbow colored dresses and petticoats, they had raced away to find them, Sir Lancelot barking happily at their heels.
The afternoon swept past with incredible speed, and she enjoyed herself immensely. She had effortlessly slipped into the role of hostess, making sure guests had plenty of food and drink, seeing to
shady porch chairs for the older matrons, and privacy for a few young mothers in need of nursing their babies. To her surprise, none of Nicholas’s neighbors appeared to find her role the least bit unusual. Their focus, instead, seemed to be on Nicholas’s remarkable recovery.
Cameron, of course, claimed his share of attention from the young ladies. She hoped he would find someone he to love, now that he had rediscovered that emotion and enjoyed being a father.
She sighed as she looked around the happy scene. Everyone looked at peace; serene and comfortable, and she suddenly realized that she was, too. There was nothing more she needed in this life than what she had found at Wildwood.
“Makes you wonder why the world didn’t stay this way, doesn’t it?” The question was whispered softly from behind, and Jaci turned to see Nancy Schaffer, prettily decked out in a candy striped dress and jaunty hat.
“Nancy, how wonderful that you’re back.” She hugged her friend. “How was your stay in England?”
“Michael’s relatives are stuffy beyond bearing, but we survived. As you have?” Nancy replied, and Jaci saw all the unspoken questions in her gaze.
Their last conversation flashed through her mind and she recalled Nancy’s indication that Jaci would have a choice to stay in this century or return to her own. But she had also said Jaci wasn’t here to change history, and on that she had to disagree. Saving Nicholas from drowning; realizing the implications of the photograph; all led Jaci to believe she did have some divine reason for being here.
As for a choice, Jaci hoped Nancy was wrong, because she didn’t want to contemplate choosing between Nicholas and anything else. She tried to decide how much to tell Nancy, but was interrupted by Amanda.
“Miss Eastman, the races are about to begin.” The little girl tugged on her skirt and Jaci knew the moment was lost.
Nancy patted her arm and smiled. “There’s nothing you need tell me that isn’t clearly written on your face. Despite what I’ve heard about Nicholas’s accident, it appears everything is working out.” Nancy’s husband came, nodded to Jaci, and took his wife by the elbow to lead her to the race track. It was just as well, for Jaci didn’t want to contemplate the future right now.
Everyone was caught up in the festive air of the races, and for the next few hours, she didn’t worry about anything else. Nicholas was truly in his element. He held the attention of the entire audience as he announced the races, each consisting of only four horses to prevent injuries on the track. After all, this was only a friendly neighborhood race, and no one wanted their horse hurt before the official race season began.
She watched him more than the horses, for he continually amazed her with his commanding presence. His friends appeared not to consider his slight limp a problem, and as they walked along the fence, she saw several who slowed to match their pace to his. He would listen avidly to each of the owners, and quite often, she was sure the handshakes they shared were business deals, not friendly greetings. That was how business was done, and she knew Nicholas reveled in it.
At one point, as the next set of horses were being brought onto the track, his gaze caught hers. Across the span of the yard, she felt drawn to him. What was he trying to tell her — that he loved her? She wished suddenly that they were alone. She took several steps toward him, hoping for one or two minutes of privacy.
Before she reached him, Lycinda glided up to his side, laying her hand possessively on his arm. Jaci watched as he bent his head in deference to Lycinda’s petite size, listening avidly to her words. At one point he even threw his head back in a laugh, and her heart broke.
Had Lycinda decided, now that he was well, that she had made a mistake in breaking up with him? He appeared to pay rapt attention to what she said. Had his feelings for his former fiancée re-emerged; was that the commitment he had referred to? She bit her bottom lip as it trembled.
How could she, a simple governess with no skills, compete with someone as exquisite as Lycinda? She watched him, ever the gentleman, lead Lycinda back to her father as the race began.
Jaci always felt she didn’t belong to this world, no matter what passions she and Nicholas had shared. Now she asked herself if she had the right to fight for his love. Had she learned enough about living in this century to combat Lycinda’s innate charm?
The sun continued to shine brightly on the crowd at Wildwood, and the food and drink continued to be consumed. Laughter rang out across the meadow, but she spent the rest of the afternoon lost in her own thoughts. By the time the last race was run, she had made her decision.
* * *
Darkness gradually descended, but the numerous lamps and lanterns kept the night at bay, and the revelry continued well past midnight. A dance floor had been constructed by laying large, flat boards together by the gazebo, and no one seemed to mind that it wasn’t a formal affair. In fact, Jaci felt people were relaxed and enjoyed themselves much more this way. She laughed and waved as Amanda hollered at her, swinging around on her papa’s arm.
She eyed Nicholas warily as he crossed the yard, taking another drink from a passing servant. He was drinking too much, again, but she knew better than to say anything. Perhaps he was merely celebrating being able to walk among his neighbors.
“Good evening, Miss Eastman; Stillwell.” Nicholas nodded at Thomas, who still stood at her side after the dance was finished.
She wondered about the gleam in Nicholas’s pewter eyes. They hadn’t spoken since the races; since she had seen him with Lycinda. Was he acting strangely, or did she just perceive it that way? Surely he wouldn’t tell her, in front of Thomas, that he didn’t want her anymore? Deciding to let him take the initiative in the conversation, she merely inclined her head in greeting.
“Nicholas, it’s good to see you up and about. You’ve made a remarkable recovery.” Thomas sounded rather formal, as though he, too, felt leery of Nicholas’s attitude.
“Yes, I have indeed. In fact, my recovery is so complete, I’ve come to claim—” his eyes twinkled, and Jaci held her breath, “—a dance. You don’t mind, do you, Stillwell?” Without waiting for an answer, he handed his cane and empty glass to Thomas, whisking Jaci onto the wooden dance floor.
She couldn’t prevent the reprimand from leaving her lips. “You were rather rude to Thomas. I’d suggest you not drink too much and behave with a little more—”
He whirled her around so fast she didn’t complete her sentence. His hand on her back brought her closer to his chest. “Thomas, is it now? My, how familiar.” His tone was irritated and Jaci looked up to see his flinty gaze focused on the doctor, anger manifesting itself in the set lines of his mouth. Suddenly, it dawned on her that he was jealous. Well, how about that. Perhaps there was hope for Jaci’s fragile heart after all.
“Yes, Thomas.” She had the delightful urge to needle him. “He’s become a good friend, and he enjoys my company.” As she spoke, his arm tightened on her back. She wondered if she had pushed him too far when he suddenly faltered, his leg turning unexpectedly under him. He clutched momentarily at her and she automatically stiffened her back to support him.
“You’re not completely recovered. Why did you insist on dancing?” All thoughts of jealousy evaporated as she tried to maintain their balance without alerting anyone to the problem.
“It is not considered good form for a man to show weakness. I thought you realized that by now.” His face grimaced with pain, and her heart melted.
Men. Why did they think they had to be so macho? Without thinking, she said, “Let me get you over to Thomas and he can take a look at you.”
Luckily, they were at the edge of the dance floor where the lantern light waned, and no one saw him hesitate. Several emotions crossed his features; possession remained in the wake of the rest. “It is said in some cultures that when a person saves another’s life, they are bound together until the debt can be repaid.” His husky voice and smoky gaze mesmerized her. “Since I have yet to repay you, Miss Eastman, you are not free to see anyone else.
You are not free at all.”
Instead of a threat, his words brought her unaccountable joy, yet she didn’t feel it the right place to voice her own feelings of love. “And how long do you intend to stay in my debt, Mr. Westbrooke?”
He pulled her tight against him, and she felt the heat of his male essence. Her heart jumped and fire coiled in her very center. The music ended and they stopped dancing. He bowed low over her hand, and then raised his gaze to hers.
“For a very, very, long time.”
* * *
Early the next morning, Nicholas stood at the track railing, a heavy mist doing nothing to dispel the heat still ravishing his body since his conversation with Jaci last evening. He had longed for the crowds of people to vanish and the lanterns to be doused. All he had wanted to do was lay her down in the soft grass and make exquisite love to her. But it hadn’t happened, and he had spent the remainder of the evening with an intense ache in his belly.
He knew his remarks about Thomas were uncalled for, but he wanted her to know that she belonged to him. It had nearly done him in to see her speaking with the doctor. As soon as he was completely well; as soon as the debts were paid—
“He’s magnificent,” she breathed, her words drifting to him as her scent tantalized his senses. She came to his side, holding his hand on top of the cane, her energy seeping into him as it always did to waylay his fears and force him to seek the future.
As though Wind Dancer knew she complimented him, he raced around the track, mane and tail flying, hooves striking the hard packed dirt with a staccato beat. Nicholas shifted his weight off his weak right leg. He well remembered how it felt with the wind in his face, the horse’s muscles bunching beneath his legs.
“You can do it, Nicholas, you can.” She read his thoughts. He hadn’t ridden since the accident, but now his heart beat as hard and rapidly as the pounding of the horse’s hooves. A vision formed of the two of them racing far away from everything threatening. It would be him and her, making love as thunderously wild as his stallion’s speed, as enduring as the land over which they raced.
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