The Willows (15 page)

“
Must you always be so
disagreeable? I had not meant to chastise you. I was merely
curious.”

He flashed a rare smile, which did the
strangest thing to her insides. “I’d meant to pass through, when I
saw Lance prancing across the field, I felt myself stopping to
watch.”

“
He’s been practicing for
the competition.” Gwen blushed. What a stupid thing to say; was it
obvious what Lance had been doing? Why was it that being near this
unpredictable man always left are so flustered? “Will you be
competing, too, Michael?”

“
As if I could afford to,”
he muttered under his breath.

Too late, she realized how even a
normal fee would be a normal obstacle to some. “If you’d like,” she
offered, feeling bad that she been so carelessly thoughtless, “I
can talk to my uncle, I’m sure he can arrange something. Perhaps
even waive the fee.”

“
You would do that for me?”
His eyes narrowed.” But why?”

Good question. “Because Lance says it
will be the event of the year. “She wondered why she persisted,
when he was so unreceptive. “It would be a shame, if you missed
it.”

“
I will live.”

“
Yes, I suppose you will,
but it shall be such fun. Everyone who is anyone shall be
there.”

“
I won’t. We tried this once
before, my lady. The last time I played your games, I did not have
much fun at all.”

“
But so much has changed
since then. We were children. I do not think…”

Her voice trailed off, the words
suddenly lame as she was caught up his dark, penetrating
gaze.

“
You don’t have to
participate either, my lady.” He stood before her, so close she
could see a slight softening in his washable gaze. “This could be
your one chance to stand up to these people. To take charge of your
life. Don’t you want to choose the man you will marry?”

“
Of course, I do. But
everyone knows Lance will win.”

He nodded, the softness vanishing from
his gaze. “You were wrong, my lady. Nothing is changed you least of
all.”

Gwen felt heat of his words run through
her. “I don’t know why you must persist in your childish dislike.
Lance is good and kind and wonderful-“

“
While I’m not fit to lick
his boots.” He took a step closer, grabbing her by the arm. “Tell
me, what was that all about, asking him why he never kisses you?
Were you hoping to make a comparison?”

Of all the conceited notions. But
before Gwen could tell him how incredibly wrong he was, he dipped
down and took possession of her lips.

This was no gentle exploration, but a
man staking his claim, and all-out assault taking no prisoners.
Pulled to his chest, Gwen dropped her parasol, forgetting all else
but his lean, hard strength pressed against her. The heat became
urgent, given her no choice but to melt in his arms.

As she surrendered, she felt far more
than a tingling; the magic seeped into her bones. Deep inside, she
came to life, throbbing with a dark, pulsing force that left her
hungry for more.

He pulled away roughly, long before she
was ready. “That is how a lady should be kissed,” he spoke out as
he went for his horse. “If Lance can’t do that for you, you should
not be marrying him.”

“
You don’t know what you’re
talking about,” she snapped at him. “Lance Loves me and I love him,
with all my heart.”

“
Your precious Lancelot is-“
He clamped shut his jaw as he pulled himself onto the horse. “God
damn, maybe your rights. What do I know?”

“
You are jealous,” she
shouted up at him, but his horse began to sidestep and Gwen had to
move out of its way. “You’re trying to get back at me for what
happened when we were children.”

He looked down at her for a moment, his
expression almost sad. “Have a nice life with Lance,” he said with
a sigh. Then, spurring his horse into flight, he flung back over
his shoulder, “you deserve him.”

He charged off in an opposite direction
from Lance, leaving Gwen to stand sputtering in the field, looking
from right to left, wishing Lance would reappear and stop her from
making unwanted comparisons. Lance was the good and strong and
noble one, she insisted. Michael was the… The…

Face facts, the man was a complete
enigma.

Well, if the lousy lout thought she
would waste one moment thinking about his kiss-either one-he was
sadly mistaken. She’d made her choice long ago, she didn’t need to
prove she’d made the right decision. Her Lancelot had magic all his
own.

Yet she stood in that field, touching
her lips, long after Michael vanished from her view.

Chapter 7

Jervis stood in the moonlight, probably
looking over the tournament field. A slight mist rose from the
marshlands and drifted pass the makeshift grandstand in a silvery
haze. Service had never considered himself an imaginative person,
but with the pennants living on all fours corners and the family
banner curling in the light breeze, he can almost picture King
Arthur himself galloping out of the fog on his steed.

Camelot was Gwen’s favorite fantasy, he
knew. If his niece could see it now, perhaps she would not be so
skittish about this competition.

Not that Jervis was about to let her
volatile moods destroy his confidence. Everything was in place,
from the accommodating preacher seconds, well-trained horse, now
waiting for Lance in the Willows’ stable. They have prepared for
every contingency, made certain there was no way they could lose,
by this time tomorrow, Jervis would be well on his way to becoming
a wealthy man. Soon, he would be the man everyone looked up to,
while his brother John would be the failure.

Turning back for the house, Jervis
preened with self-satisfaction. At long last, he would be getting
what he deserved. They have been frustrating years, watching his
brother get everything-all the advantages, the money,
Amanda…

Jervis refused to think of the past.
All that mattered now was that in the end, he would be the one who
proved the more successful brother.

Too bad John would not be alive to see
it. The doctor had not yet warned him how short a time he had to
live, but Jervis new. It was that very news that made him sit down
start planning.

As caretaker of his brother’s estate,
with access to all his personal records, Jervis knew what was
written in John’s will. The Willows would go to his silly niece,
there was no way to prevent it, but he if found a way to get his
hands on her true fund. According to its terms, sturdy amount had
been set aside for when, unless she married a man John disapproved
of, in which case, all the money would retreat to his younger
brother.

Jervis smiled. Since Lance had been
specified as the man John lease wanted his daughter to wed, his
poor brother would probably heal over at the reception, when Gwen
married Lance tomorrow.

It had occurred Jervis that perhaps he
need not lose the Willows, either, if he kept his wits about him.
With a fool like Lance to manage what was left of the plantation,
Gwen and her new husband soon be forced to sell. Kind and
understanding Uncle Jervis, doing his best to “keep the place in
the family,” could then steal the place for a small price. With the
trust fund, the sale of Bell Oaks, and the profits from the
competition, he could then restore the Willows to this showplace it
had once been.

Nostalgically, he looked up at the
tall, stately house, then back to the broad, empty fields waiting
for cane. The Willows had been among the finest spreads on the
Mississippi. Oh, how they had all basked in John’s glory in those
days. What fun, what riches. If only Amanda…

Shaking himself firmly, seeing no
profit in dwelling upon the memory, he strode to the house, halted
by the sound of the stable door opening to his right. “Edith” he
blurted, surprised to see his daughter emerge. “What are you doing
out here at this hour?”

“
Oh, daddy, my heavens, I
thought you were a ghost.” She laughed, for more heartily than the
occasion would warrant. Taking his arm, she steered him away from
the stable.

“
You did not answer my
question, girl.”

“
Didn’t I?” She looked
straight ahead, as if hell-bent on reaching the house. “I needed to
be by myself for a spell. What with all the preparations, it has
been so hectic around here, a girl can barely think.”

“
What can be troubling you
so, we must think out in the stable?”

She stopped, taking a deep breath for
return to him with a strange expression. “Oh daddy, is all this
necessary? Must we truly go through with the tournament
tomorrow?”

Now what was this? “How many times must
I explain? This is my brother’s house. His and Gwen’s needs must
come first. We must get her future settled, before we can start
looking to find you a suitable husband.”

“
I do not want a suitable
husband. I want-“she broke off. “Oh, daddy, I know you want what’s
best for me, what about poor Lance? What if you truly does not want
to marry Gwen?”

“
Those two have been
sweethearts for years. Of course, he wants to marry
her.”

“
But he could lose the
tournament. He is older now, he might not be the true champion
anymore.” Bit her lip, then grabbed his sleeve. “You know, daddy,
it might be best if I were on the panel of judges.”

Smiling down at his girl, Jervis felt a
strong surge of pride. She might not be the son he had wanted, but
she had to admit, his Edith could out think the best of them. “That
is a wonderful idea, baby girl. Truth to tell, though, I have
already put you on that panel. With you, me, Gwen, and John
deciding, we can make sure things stay heavily in Lance’s
favor.”

She loosened her hold on his sleeve.
Was it a trick of the moonlights, or did her smile fade? “True
enough, but can we really rely on what’s uncle John will do? Or
Gwen herself, for that matter?”

“
Lance has been practicing
for weeks, there is no way he can lose.” Jervis grew impatient; he
did not appreciate having his spirits damaged. “Don’t you be
fretting over this, baby girl. Daddy has things well in
hand.”

“
Yes, but-“

“
Seems to me you have been
spending too much time thinking in that stable. Maybe it is time my
baby was getting herself to bed. Go on with you now. Get back to
the house and catch up on your beauty sleep.”

She looked ready to argue, but he gave
her his best scowl. Casting one last look over her shoulder, smiled
tightly and made her way inside.

Jervis retreated to the shadows, afraid
she might try to defy him by sneaking out again. Busy watching the
back porch, he missed the dark figure slipping, undetected, out
through the stable door.

A good thing, too, for it would have
been hard to mistake that well-groomed blonde head.

***

Edith stopped inside the back door,
leaning up against it as she caught her breath. That had been a
close call. If daddy had caught her with Lance…

Part of her almost wished he had. It
would be taken out of her hands than; my even force everyone to
face what she had known for years, that Lance should not be
marrying Gwen. The way he had held Edith tonight, kissing her so
fervently, surely he belonged with her instead.

But no, he was determined to go through
with the competition, and all the kisses in the world would not
stop him. Nor could she blame him, for what, after all, did she
have to offer him that could compare with the Willows?

Once again, Gwen got it all and took it
all for granted.

It was not fair, Edith decided. She had
done everything but stand on her head to throw Gwen and Michael
together. They get promises of the money her father owed him, she
had lured him to the docks, than later to the Fosters’ ball, but on
both occasions, her impetuous cousin had failed to commit the
necessary indiscretion-or at least, Lance had not caught her at it.
Gwen seemed uncharacteristically determined to act like a Lady, and
Michael was not cooperating at all.

Most men would jump at the prospect of
winning the Willows, yet here it was the night before the
competition, and he had yet to take Edith up on her offer.
Everything depended on his appearance. He was the only man she knew
capable of actually beating Lance.

Pushing away from the door, she
swallowed her panic. Michael did not come, she would just have to
find some other means, however drastic, to stop that
wedding.

***

The next morning, Gwen studied herself
in the mirror, well pleased with her image. For the first time
since she had returned home, she was wearing a dress worth the
effort of donning. Royal blue silk, trimmed with a lace and pearls,
and this stately princess style gown had been her mother’s favorite
from tournaments in the past.

Holding up the long, flowing sleeves,
Gwen imagined Lance kneeling before her as he claimed her hand.
“You are my vision,” he would gush, his eyes glazed with
passion.