Part 11 (1/2)
After my lessons each morning, we'd go back to his cottage to have lunch, and then he'd send me back to the big house, saying he had to work. I could feel him resisting spending too much time with me, yet I could tell that he really wanted to. So I avoided seeing him in the evening, hoping that he'd miss me, and long for me, and indeed, each morning he seemed so happy to see me that I was certain that someday very, very soon, he would realize he loved me.
It was a full eight days after my riding lessons began that Troy felt I was ready for a really long ride into the woods surrounding Farthinggale Manor. Time and again he kept glancing at the sky. ”The early morning news predicted violent electrical storms, so we shouldn't go too far.”
With us we had a picnic hamper full of what Troy had put together himself, and some special treats that Rye Whiskey had sent over from the big house for us to enjoy.
Troy was the one who selected a sun-dappled little mound under one of the most beautiful beech trees I'd ever seen. Not so far away was a gurgling stream of water, and birds darted between the gently swaying branches above. The wonderful feel of the summer day put songs in my heart and joy in my every movement, as Troy knelt to spread the red-andwhite checkered tablecloth on the gra.s.s. Our two horses were tethered not far away and contentedly munched on whatever they could eat. I heard the hum of honey bees, smelled the scent of clover, brushed tiny gnats from my face as I busied myself emptying the picnic basket. The sweetness of the day, the prettiness of the setting, lit up my eyes whenever I glanced at Troy, who couldn't move his fascinated gaze from whatever trivial move I made. I felt selfconscious as I s.h.i.+fted plates and plastic flatware around, and three times I moved the potato salad, the fried chicken, the sandwiches.
When finally I had everything prettily arranged, I sat back on my heels and smiled his way. ”There, doesn't it look pretty? But don't dig in until I say grace, just like my granny used to say whenever Pa wasn't at home.” I felt so happy today that I just had to thank someone.
He seemed bewitched. Dazed-looking, he nodded, then inclined his head slightly while I said the familiar words.
”Dear Lord, we thank you for the food before us. We thank you for the caring hands that prepared our bounty. We thank you for our many blessings and all the joys this day and all our tomorrows will bring us. Amen.”
I lowered my hands, raised my bowed head, looked up, and found Troy staring at me in the most quizzical way. ”Your granny's grace?”
”Yes, we didn't have blessings or bounties, but Granny never seemed to know that. She was always expecting the best would show up one day. I guess when you're not used to anything, you don't expect too much. When she said grace, I used to silently pray that G.o.d would take away her aches and pains.” He fell into silence after that, appearing thoughtful as we both ate our sumptuous picnic lunch.
And I myself had made the yellow cake with thick fudge frosting in Troy's own kitchen.
”This is the best cake I've ever eaten!” He licked the chocolate from his fingers. ”Another slice, please.”
”Wouldn't-it be nice if we could always be together like this? You and me. I could go to college, while we live in your cottage.”
His dark eyes shadowed with so much pain, suddenly the sunny day went dark.
He didn't love me! He didn't need me! I was seducing him, or trying to, just as Cal Dennison had seduced me with his own needs and desires, disregarding mine. I handed him his second slice of cake, now too embarra.s.sed even to look at him. With my head lowered so he couldn't see my suffering, I quickly cleared the tablecloth, and without was.h.i.+ng the used plates and flatware in the stream as I'd intended doing when first I saw the water, I threw everything back into the picnic hamper in a grand heap that wouldn't allow me to close the top. Fiercely angry I shoved the basket his way.
”Here's your basket!” I choked.
His stunned expression forced me to scramble to my feet, then I ran toward my horse. ”I'm going home!” I cried out childishly. ”I realize you don't need anybody like me stuck permanently in your life! All you need is work, and more work! Thank you for the last ten days, and forgive me for being impulsive. I promise not to waste your time again!”
”Heavenly!” he called, ”Stop! Wait . . .” I didn't wait. Somehow I reached the saddle, not caring if I did it right or wrong. My heels dug into my mount's flanks, and she leaped forward while I was blinded by silly tears, more angry with myself than with him. I did everything wrong. My mare was made confused and uncertain. To correct my mistakes I yanked hard on the reins. Rearing upward almost vertically, the mare snorted, pawed at the air, then bolted forward, running wild and fast through the woods. Low branches came at me one after another, branches that could sweep me out of the saddle, break my neck, back, legs. With more luck than skill I managed to duck each branch. And the more I moved in the saddle, the more erratic my horse ran! My screams were like long, thin scarfs blowing behind me. Almost too late I remembered Troy's advice on how to cling to a runaway horse. I fell forward and clung to my mare's thick, brown mane. Over ravines and ditches, jumping dead trees felled by storms, my uncontrolled horse raced. Squeezing my eyes shut, I began to say her name over and over, trying to calm her.
The next thing I knew she stumbled; I was thrown from her back straight into a shallow ditch half-full of slimy green rainwater. Scrambling to her feet, my mare whinnied, shook herself, threw me a disgusted look, and wheeled about to head for home, leaving me stunned and shaken and hurting. I was also missing my left boot. I felt a total fool as I lay sprawled on my back in the fetid water, staring up through the canopy of leaves to find the sun full in my face.
G.o.d's punishment, I sourly thought, for presuming too much! I should have known better than to fall for the first man who made my blood run fast and hot, especially after Cal, and Logan's rejection. No Casteel had ever won any prize! Why should I think I was any better!
Other stupid thoughts filled my head before I had sense enough to sit up and shake the filthy water from my hair, then used the sleeve of my s.h.i.+rt to clean my face of mud. Wild honey bees were attracted, perhaps by my perfume, or by the bright yellow of a once pretty blouse.
”Heaven, where are you?” I heard Troy calling from a distance.
You're too late, Troy Tatterton! I don't want you now! Still I began to tremble from the effort it took not to respond. I didn't want him to find me, not now. Somehow I'd make my way back to that huge, lonely house, and never again would I disobey Tony and steal over to his cottage.
So, sitting in the water, I stayed very quiet, slapping at the insects who idiotically found me attractive. Endless time pa.s.sed before he stopped calling and thras.h.i.+ng about in the woods. The wind picked up and began to rustle the leaves above. Dark, stringy clouds converged as they always seemed to do whenever I was on the verge of finding something valuable. My rotten luck!
Oh, you bet, I felt so d.a.m.ned sorry for myself, even before the drizzle of rain began, I couldn't stifle my sobs.
Then a small noise came from behind me, and an amused voice. ”I always wanted to save a maiden in distress.”
My head swiveled around to see Troy about ten feet away. How long he'd been watching me I couldn't guess. His riding clothes were snagged in several places, and a long tear had ripped one sleeve from shoulder seam to elbow. ”Why do you keep sitting there? Are you hurt?”
”Go away!” I yelled, flipping my head so he couldn't see my mud-smeared face. ”No, I am not hurt! I don't need to be rescued! I don't need you! I don't need anybody!”
Without replying he stepped into the wet ditch and tried to feel my legs for broken bones. I tried to slap him away, and yet he managed to pick me up after three attempts. ”Now, be serious, Heaven. Tell me if you hurt anywhere.”
”No! Just put me down!”
”You're lucky you are still alive. If it had been hard ground instead of water and a soft muddy stream bottom, you might very well be seriously injured.” ”I can walk. Please put me on my feet.” ”All right, if that's what you want,” and obeying my command, he tentatively stood me up. I cried out from the hot pain that shot through my left ankle.
Instantly he seized me up in his arms again. ”We've got to hurry. No time to play games. I had to dismount to follow the trail you made. No doubt trom the looks of that swelling ankle, you have sprained it.” ”That doesn't make me crippled! I can still walk. Many a time I've walked seven miles to Winnerrow with something hurting more than that ankle!”
Another amused grin quirked his lips. ”Sure you have, a hurting stomach, not a sprained ankle.” ”What do you know about it?”
”Only what you've told me. Now stop struggling and behave yourself. If I don't find my horse in short order, both of us are going to be caught in the storm that's coming.”
Patiently his tethered mount waited while Troy lifted me up and sat me before him on the saddle. I felt mean and spiteful as he swung up to sit behind me, guiding his mount skillfully, even as he put his free arm about my waist protectively.
”It's already raining.”
”I know that.”
”We'll never make it back to the house before the storm strikes in full force.”
”I suspect we won't. That's why I'm heading for an old abandoned barn that used to store the grains earlier Tattertons grew.”
”You mean your ancestors knew how to do something besides make toys?”
”I suspect everyone's ancestors had more than one skill,”
”Yours, I'm sure, had servants to do all the farming.”
”You are probably right. However, it takes some talent to make the money to pay tenant farmers.” ”It takes more than talent to survive in the wilderness.”
”Touche. Now keep quiet and let me get my bearings.” He brushed his wet hair from his forehead, looked around, then turned his horse eastward. Black thunderclouds blew in from the southwest, soon followed by sizzling bolts of lightning, and despite my will to escape him, it felt good to have his arm about me, holding me secure as the barn came finally into sight.
It smelled old and sour in the dilapidated building half-full of rotting hay. In the dimness rain leaked through in a hundred places to splatter down on the dirt floor and create puddles. The roof holes allowed me to see the darkened sky now full of terrifying lightning bolts that seemed to converge directly overhead. I sank down to my knees as Troy took care of the horse, unsaddling him, rubbing him dry with the saddle blanket; then he came my way to rake with his hands at the hay until he found some that was dry and not so smelly, and on that we both sat in the damp and miserable barn.
As if there hadn't been any interruption at all, I continued in my angry way: ”It's a wonder rich people like the Tattertons didn't have this barn torn down long ago.”
He ignored my remark, leaned back on the mound of hay he'd created, and spoke softly. ”I used to play in this barn when I was a boy. I had a makebelieve friend I called Stu Johnson, and with him I'd jump from that loft over there.” He pointed to show me where. ”I would jump down to this haystack we are sitting on.”
:Wahat a silly and dangerous thing to do! I stared with disbelief at the attic loft, and its great height. ”You could have been killed.”
”Oh, I didn't think about that. I was five at the time, and very needing of a friend, even my imaginary one. Your mother had run away and left me lonely. Jillian was crying and calling Tony long distance all the time, begging him to come home, and when he did, they fought day after day.”
Breathless now that he was remembering a little about my mother, I turned toward him. ”Why did my mother run away?”
Instead of replying, he sat up, took a handkerchief from his pocket, dipped it in a nearby puddle of rainwater, then began to wipe smeared mud from my face. ”I don't know,” he said, leaning to touch the tip of my nose with his lips. ”I was too young to realize what was going on.” He kissed my right cheek, then my left one, his breath warm and exciting on my face and neck as he kissed and talked.
”I only knew that when your mother left, she promised to write me. She said she'd come back one day when I was grown up.”