Nan Ryan (21 page)

Slowly his eyes climbed upward from the voluminous rose skirts. His narrow-eyed gaze appreciatively touched a waspish, nipped-in waist, slid languidly up to a full, magnificent bosom which was not entirely covered by a tight rose silk bodice. His frank, lingering stare resting on the expanse of bare, womanly flesh revealed by the gown’s low-cut bodice caused those voluptuous breasts to swell against the restraining silk as if their proud owner were struggling for a breath.

Kurt’s gaze finally lifted to a lovely face framed with elaborately dressed dark hair.

She smiled at him. He started to rise.

“Don’t.” Yasmine Parnell lifted a hand. “Stay just as you are.”

“You shouldn’t be here, Mrs. Parnell.”

“Why not?” Yasmine smiled down at him. “Am I in danger, Captain?”

“Yes.” Kurt smiled. “In danger of coming out of your dress.”

Yasmine laughed. “So you have noticed that I’m a woman.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“I’m glad.” She looked cautiously around. “I hoped you had. I’m on my way to the fair. I understand you’re racing your thoroughbred this afternoon.” He nodded. “Think you’ll win?”

“I know I’ll win.”

“Such masculine confidence. I like that.” She smiled at him and added, “I like winners. If you win, come call on me at my home. We’ll drink champagne toasts.” She put out the tip of her pink tongue and licked her red lips wetly. “To the victor go the spoils, Captain.”

Kurt lifted a dark eyebrow. “You’d risk crossing Niles Loveless?”

Yasmine’s flirtatious smile evaporated. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Yes, you do, Mrs. Parnell.”

“You dare insinuate that I … that Mr. Loveless … why, he’s a married man and I … I don’t have to stand here and listen to such farfetched, filthy accusations!”

“No, ma’am, you don’t,” said Kurt.

Yasmine’s hands went to her generous hips. “Listen to me, Yankee, if you so much as hint to anyone that—”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“I don’t like you, Northway,” she spat venomously. “You’re a cocky Yankee bastard and you suppose that all women want you. Well, here’s one who doesn’t!” Yasmine whirled away and hurried to her carriage, stung by his rejection, determined to get even.

Bristling with anger, she went to the fair. And she wasted little time in whispering to the ladies of Spanish Fort that she had every reason to believe that “Helen’s Yankee” really was “Helen’s Yankee.” In the most intimate sense.

Yasmine didn’t actually believe she was spreading lies. She took it for granted that since the darkly handsome Northway turned her down, it was surely because he was having a torrid affair with the love-starved Helen Courtney. Damn that hypocritical, long-suffering Helen. She ought to be ashamed of herself.

Sleeping with a dirty Yankee!

At race time Yasmine joined her friend, plump and pretty Patsy Loveless, at the oval track. They linked arms and anticipated Niles’s big win. Niles joined them, stepping between them just minutes before the starting gun. Yasmine possessively took his arm and smiled adoringly up at him. Niles nervously cleared his throat and put his other arm around Patsy’s waist.

Crowds of people were pressed eagerly around the track. The excitement rose as the minutes ticked away toward four o’clock.

Jolly Grubbs stood with his arms folded over the railing directly before the finish line. He said a little prayer as the field approached the starting line.

Fourteen nervous, high-strung thoroughbreds were led into position. Raider had drawn the number ten slot. In the number one post position was Niles Loveless’s blooded black, a ninety-five-pound jockey on his back.

Seconds ticked away. The crowd roared. The clock in the Methodist church tower began to chime. A pistol shot rang out. The horses streaked away from the starting line.

The race was on.

Chapter Twenty-four

H
elen’s heart lurched when the tall cased clock in the hallway struck four. She beat the batter in the big pottery bowl faster, harder, her eyes staring sightlessly, her teeth clamped tightly together.

“You’re splattering!” Charlie shouted.

Charlie sat atop the kitchen cabinet, a dish towel tied around his waist, a freshly baked gingerbread man in his hand, its head and arms eaten off. Barefooted, Charlie had flour on his nose and one ear, grease on his shirt, and flecks of cookie batter all over his dish-towel apron, his face, in his hair, on his legs, and between his toes.

He had been allowed to beat the first batch and had repeatedly heard “Charlie, watch it, you’re splattering” from Helen. He thought it was terribly funny that he could now say it to her.

“Helen, you’re splattering!” he squealed again, and then laughed.

Helen came to her senses and laughed with him. She
had
made a mess. Flecks of batter covered her apron and dress. She winked at Charlie and set the big bowl down beside him. Dipping a finger into the batter, she touched it to the tip of his nose. He giggled and wiped it off. And, of course, he immediately stuck his finger into the batter and smeared a dab on Helen’s chin. She tried to lick it off with her tongue while Charlie clapped his hands and laughed.

It was well past five when the two of them had finished baking and decorating several dozen gingerbread men. It took another half hour to clean up the kitchen. And still more time to clean up themselves.

It was when everything had been done that time really dragged for Helen. She had no idea when she could expect Kurt. If Raider won the race, Kurt might feel like celebrating the victory. He might go to a saloon and drink. Or gamble. Or worse.

What difference did it make, really? If he was leaving tonight, it mattered little what he did with his last evening in Alabama.

As the shadows lengthened, Helen anxiously paced the worn carpet of the parlor. She was so edgy Charlie noticed and asked her if something was wrong. She assured him that everything was fine. Said nothing was bothering her, but it was a little stuffy in the house, would he like to go outdoors?

He was out the front door in a flash, followed quickly by the tense Helen.

The June sun was setting over the bay. Helen was rocking nervously in her favorite cane-bottomed rocker on the front gallery. She watched Charlie catch lightning bugs in the big front yard. Every few minutes she’d get up, walk around to the south side of the house, and look toward the tree-bordered lane. Then sigh and go back to her rocker.

At last she heard the faint drum of hoofbeats. Charlie heard them too.

“The captain’s home!” Charlie shouted, and he set his jar of fireflies down, told Dom to guard them, and sped around the house.

Heart beating erratically, Helen followed.

Kurt Northway rode into sight. The last rays of the dying sun fell on his beautiful black hair. He was smiling.

Raider had won.

Helen felt sick.

Kurt reined in Raider and dismounted. He held in his right hand a brand-new traveling valise. He nodded almost imperceptibly to Helen and her hand went to her throat.

He smiled down at Charlie and asked, “Did you remember to get all your clothes together?”

Charlie nodded furiously. “Helen helped me.”

“Good,” Kurt said. He set the traveling valise down on the ground and told Charlie, “I brought you a present.”

Charlie stepped eagerly forward. “A present for me? What is it?”

Kurt turned, took a box from his worn black saddlebags, and handed it to his son. Charlie ripped off the lid, looked inside at the brightly painted toy soldiers, and gave a loud shout of happiness. He quickly turned and showed the soldiers to Helen. She made the proper reaction.

Turning back to his father, happiness shining out of his big brown eyes, he said, “Thank you, Captain.”

He looked so sweet and cute standing there holding the box of toy soldiers to his narrow chest, Kurt wanted to reach down, pluck him from the ground, and hug him tightly.

“You’re very welcome,” said Kurt.

“Can I go spread them out on my bed?”

“Yes, you may. Take the valise with you.”

“Okay, Captain!” Charlie started to pick up the traveling case, but his father stopped him.

Kurt lifted it from the ground, turned to the stallion, and quietly told Raider to take the valise and follow Charlie down to the barn. Charlie laughed when Raider whinnied and shook his great head, then firmly clamped his teeth over the valise’s handle when Kurt held it up to him. Carrying the valise in his mouth, the big stallion obediently followed the happy little boy, who wagged his box of new toy soldiers tucked underneath his arm.

Helen and Kurt were left alone. They faced each other.

“Aren’t you going to ask?” he said.

“There’s no need,” she said cheerlessly. “You won. Congratulations.”

His handsome face broke into a broad grin. “Raider left his closest opponent—Niles Loveless’s black—ten lengths behind. Won it without breaking a sweat.”

Helen tried to smile. Failed. “That’s wonderful.” Her tone was far from convincing.

“You don’t sound like you think it’s wonderful.”

“Sorry.” She drew a breath, looked him straight in the eye. “So … when will you be leaving?”

“When do you want me to leave?”

Helen hung her head. She nudged at a stone with the toe of her worn slipper. “Raider won the race. Now you have enough money to go to Maryland.”

“Actually, I don’t,” Kurt said with a smile in his voice. Helen’s head snapped up.

“You can’t get to Maryland on a hundred dollars? Families live for an entire year on less.”

“I don’t have a hundred dollars.”

“You don’t have … You’ve spent it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“All of it?”

“Just about.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back from the waist, waiting for her to speak. When she stood there silently staring at him, he said, “Don’t you want to know what I spent it on?”

“No. It’s none of my business.”

“A good team of plow horses to replace old Duke. Got a pair of sturdy grays for seventy dollars. They’re being delivered in the morning.”

Her lips falling open in astonishment, Helen stared at him, unable to believe she had heard him correctly. “But … I thought … the traveling case … telling Charlie to get his …”

“… old worn-out clothes together,” Kurt finished for her. “So we can burn them. I bought Charlie some new clothes today with the money I had left over after paying for the team.” He laughed, a rich, warm laugh, and told her, “I’ll be back in your fields plowing by noon tomorrow.”

Helen was speechless.

She felt like laughing and crying at the same time. He was staying! He’d spent his prize money to buy plow horses to help her hold on to her farm. He could have taken Charlie and left her high and dry, but he wasn’t going to do it. She felt her heart throbbing in her chest. She was tempted to throw her arms around his neck and squeeze him.

“I don’t know what to say,” she finally spoke. “I thought … I supposed that you … I made a foolish threat and I …”

“You didn’t mean it. I know you didn’t. You never meant for me to leave and I never meant to leave.” He smiled then, uncrossed his arms, and said, “You do understand, don’t you, why I could never allow Raider to pull a plow?”

She nodded. “Yes, I do.” She smiled then. “I’m very grateful to you for what you’ve done. You’ll never know how grateful. Thank you.” He nodded. Helen was so overwhelmed with relief she couldn’t trust herself to say more. Awkwardly, she murmured, “Well … you … you must be tired. I’ll say good night now.” She turned to leave.

“Wait,” Kurt said, and he caught her arm, gently pulled her back. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small box. “I brought you a little present.”

Her eyes grew as wide as Charlie’s had. “A present for me?”

“It’s not much,” he said, almost apologetically. Helen eagerly opened the box and took out the delicate mother-of-pearl hair clasp. “It’s something to wear in your hair,” he said. “I noticed your friend Em had one in her hair the other day, so I thought you might like it.” He shrugged wide shoulders. “But you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, I just …”

Helen handed the box to him, slid the barrette up into her hair and fastened it. “It’s beautiful. Thank you, Captain.”

She looked so sweet and lovely standing there in the fading dusk wearing the new clasp in her golden hair, Kurt felt like plucking her off her feet, pulling her into his arms, and hugging her close.

He smiled. “You’re very welcome, Mrs. Courtney.”

Chapter Twenty-five

C
ome Monday morning, Niles Loveless was in a bad mood.

He sat behind his massive mahogany desk in his spacious office on Main Street. The big room was dim. He had not raised the shades over the many windows, nor had he unlocked the front door. He didn’t want to see anyone and he didn’t want anyone to see him. Sullen, he sat there in the gloom nursing a headache. A bad headache.

The sting of seeing his finest thoroughbred beaten in Saturday’s race still smarted badly. A loss to any of the entries would have hurt. But to lose to the Yankee captain’s sorrel stallion had been devastating.

The race had been such an embarrassing disappointment, he had taken Patsy and left immediately. Using the excuse that he had a mountain of work do to back at his office, he had dropped Patsy off and went straight to Yasmine Parnell’s place. And was furious to find she wasn’t there waiting for him! He had let himself in, poured himself a stiff drink, and went upstairs to wait.

He was drunk and angry when finally she came in at seven that evening. He got drunker and angrier still when she repelled his amorous advances, telling him she wanted only to rest and change before going to the fair’s dance. As if he were a naughty child, she sent him home to his wife. Once there, Patsy soundly scolded him for being late for dinner and for smelling of liquor. Then she frowned, flounced up the stairs, and locked him out of his own bedroom.

So instead of celebrating sweet victory in a crowd of well-wishers and admirers, Niles had spent Saturday night drinking alone in painful defeat.