Fairy Tale Weddings

by Debbie Macomber

  “My name? You mean my first name?”

  “Yes.”

  He hesitated long enough for her to become uneasy. Then he nodded.

  “Thank you.” She dropped her gaze to her mud-coated boots. “John,” she whispered.

  “Well?” he prompted. “Do you think it suits me?”

  “It does,” she told him.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he said, and she wasn’t sure whether he was mocking her. Then she decided it didn’t matter if he was.

  “You really aren’t a beast, are you?” she murmured.

  He frowned at that and brushed a wet strand of hair from her cheek. His fingers trailed across her face, causing her stomach to lurch at the unexpected contact.

  “But you, my dear, are a Beauty.”

  Judy went cold. “How did you know my father called me that?”

  “I know everything about you. Right down to that wimp you thought you were in love with a couple of years back. What was his name again? Richard. Yes, Richard. I’m also aware that you’ve rarely dated since—disillusionment, I suppose.”

  Judy felt the blood drain from her face.

  “I know you fancy yourself a savior to that group of four-year-olds. How noble of you to squander yourself on their behalf, but I doubt they appreciate it.” His blue eyes were as cold as glacial ice.

  Judy thought she might be sick.

  He waited, his expression filled with grim amusement. “What, no comment?”

  “None.” She threw the reins over Princess’s head. “Thank you for the ride, John. It was quite exhilarating.” Her chin held at a proud angle, she mounted and silently rode away, her back rigid.

  McFarland watched her go and slammed his boot viciously against the sand. He didn’t know what had made him speak to her like that. He’d known from the moment he’d seen her picture that she was like no other woman he’d ever encountered. Another woman would have thrown angry words at him for the unprovoked attack. Judy hadn’t. She’d revealed courage and grace, a rare combination. McFarland didn’t think he’d seen the two qualities exemplified so beautifully in any one woman. Most were interested in his wealth and power.

  He didn’t like the feelings Judy Lovin aroused in him. Studying her picture was one thing, but being close to her, feeling the energy she exuded, watching her overcome her natural reserve, had all greatly affected him.

  Judy was good—too good for him. As other people said, he chewed up little girls like her and spit them out. He didn’t want to see that happen to Judy.

  What an odd position to be in, he mused darkly. He had to protect her from himself.

  Three

  Princess’s hind feet kicked up sand as Judy trotted her along the beach. Her thoughts were in turmoil. What a strange, complex man John McFarland was. His eyes had been gentle and kind, almost laughing, when he’d asked her to tell him about herself, and yet he’d obviously known everything there was to know. Her cheeks burned with humiliation that he’d discovered what a fool she’d made of herself over Richard. She’d been so trusting, so guileless with her affection and her heart—so agonizingly stupid to have fallen in love with a married man. The pain of Richard’s deception no longer hurt Judy, but her own flagrant stupidity continued to embarrass her.

  Judy was so caught up in her memories that she didn’t notice the children at first. Their laughter drifted on the cool morning air and she drew in her reins. As always, the mare responded instantly to Judy’s signal.

  “Princess, look,” she said excitedly. “Children.” They were playing a game of hide-and-seek, darting in and out of the jungle and rushing to the water’s edge. Judy counted seven children between the ages of eight and twelve, from what she could guess.

  They didn’t seem to notice her, which was just as well since she didn’t want to disturb their game. The smallest, a boy, had apparently been chosen as “it” and the others scattered, smothering their laughter as they ran across the sand.

  Judy swung out of the saddle.

  Her action must have drawn their attention because the laughter stopped abruptly. She turned around to find all the youngsters running to hide. Only the one small boy remained.

  Judy smiled. “Good morning,” she said cautiously, trying not to frighten him.

  He was silent, his deep brown eyes serious and intense.

  Digging in the pocket of her jodhpurs, Judy pulled out two sugar cubes. The first she fed to Princess. The second she held out to the boy.

  He eyed it for a long time before stepping forward and grabbing it from her hand. Quickly, he jumped away from her. Holding it in his own palm, he carefully approached the horse. When Princess lowered her sleek head and ate the cube from his hand, he looked up and grinned broadly at Judy.

  “She’s very gentle,” Judy said softly. “Would you like to sit in the saddle?”

  He nodded enthusiastically and Judy helped him mount.

  Astride Princess, the boy placed both hands on the saddle and sat up straight, as though he were a king surveying his kingdom. Gradually, the other children came out from their hiding places among the trees.

  “Good morning,” Judy greeted each one. “My name is Judy.”

  “Peter.”

  “Jimmy.”

  “Philippe.”

  “Elizabeth.”

  “Margaret.”

  They all rushed toward her, eager to be her friend and perhaps get the chance to sit on her beautiful horse.

  Judy threw up her hands and laughed. “One at a time, or I’ll never be able to remember.” She laid her hand on the slim shoulder of one of the younger girls. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.” She was rewarded with a toothless smile.

  From a ridge high above the beach, McFarland looked down on the scene below, a silent witness to Judy’s considerable charm. She was a natural with children, and although he shouldn’t be surprised at the way they gravitated toward her, he was. More often than he could count, he’d come upon the island children playing in the surf or along the beach. Usually he saw little more than a fleeting glimpse of one or two running away as though they were afraid of him.

  Until he’d watched Judy enchant these children, McFarland hadn’t given a second thought to the few families who made this island their home. He allowed them to remain on St. Steven’s, not for any humanitarian reason, but simply because his feeling toward them was one of indifference. They could stay or leave as they wished.

  Unfortunately, he couldn’t say the same about Judy Lovin. The sound of her laughter swirled around him. As he watched her now with these children, an unwilling smile touched his mouth. He, too, was a victim of the enchantment she’d brought to his island.

  And he didn’t like it, not one damn bit.

  Pulling back sharply on Midnight’s reins, McFarland turned the horse and rode toward the other side of the island as if the fires of hell were licking at their heels.

  By the time Judy returned to the house, McFarland had already eaten breakfast and sequestered himself in his office. Judy wasn’t disappointed. She’d purposely stayed away in an effort to avoid clashing with him a second time that morning. The man puzzled her and she didn’t know how to react to him.

  Feeling increasingly unsettled as morning turned to midday, she ordered a light lunch and ate in her room. In the afternoon, she swam in the Olympic-size pool, forcing herself to swim lap after lap as she worked out her confusion and frustration. She had no clue as to why McFarland had sent for her other than to torment her family, and she hated to think he’d purposely do that. If she’d understood him better, she might be able to discern his motives.

  Breathless from the workout, Judy climbed out of the pool and reached for her towel, burying her face in its plush thickness. As she drew it over her arms and legs, goose bumps prickled her skin and she realized she was being watched. A chill shivered up her spine and she paused to glance around. She could see no one, but the feeling persisted and she hurriedly gathered her things.

  In
her own rooms, Judy paced, uncertain and unsettled. Eventually she sat down at the large desk and wrote another long, chatty letter to her father and brother. The hallway was silent when she came out of her room. She hesitated only a moment before making her way downstairs and into the wing of the house from where she suspected McFarland ruled his empire.

  “Ms. Lovin?”

  Avery Anderson’s voice stopped her short when she turned a corner and happened upon a large foyer. “Hello,” she said with feigned brightness. “I apologize if I’m intruding.”

  Avery stood, his hands on the top of his desk as he leaned forward. “It’s no intrusion,” he said, obviously ill at ease at her unexpected appearance.

  Judy hated to fluster him. “I have some letters I’d like to mail.”

  “Of course.”

  Judy raised questioning eyes to his. “They’re to my family?” She made the statement a question, asking if there’d be any objection. “Do you have regular mail delivery to and from the island?”

  “All correspondence is handled by courier.”

  “Then there’s no problem with writing my father?”

  “None whatsoever.”

  Judy hated to be suspicious, but Avery didn’t sound all that confident, and it would be easy for him to deceive her.

  “I’ll see to it personally if that will reassure you, Ms. Lovin.” McFarland’s voice behind her was brisk and businesslike.

  Judy blushed painfully as she faced him. “I’d appreciate th-that,” she said, stammering slightly. The virility of his smile made her catch her breath. That morning, when they were out riding, he’d been sneering at her and now she could feel her pulse react to a simple lift of his mouth.

  “Thank you, John,” she said softly.

  “John?” Avery Anderson echoed, perplexed, but his voice sounded as though it had come from another room—another world.

  “Would you care to see my office?” McFarland asked, but the sparkle in his eyes made Judy wonder if he was taunting her.

  “I don’t want to interrupt your day.” Already she was retreating from him, taking small, even steps as she backed away from Avery Anderson’s desk. “Perhaps another time.”

  “As you wish.” His eyes grew perceptibly gentler at her bemused look. “We’ll talk tonight, during dinner.”

  The words were as much a command as an invitation. It was understood that she’d show up in the dining room when called.

  Judy nodded. “At dinner.”

  By the time she closed the doors to her suite, her heart was thumping wildly. She attempted to tell herself she feared John McFarland, but that wasn’t entirely true—the man was an enigma. But instead of gauging her responses by his mood, Judy decided she could only be herself.

  She dressed for dinner in a black skirt and a blouse that had been favorites of her father’s. Charles had said the pink and maroon stripes enhanced the brown of her eyes, reminding him of her mother.

  At the top of the stairs, Judy placed her hand on the railing, then paused. She was excited about this dinner, yet apprehensive. Her stomach rebelled at the thought of food, but she yearned to know this man—“the Beast.” Exactly why he’d brought her to St. Steven’s had yet to be explained. She had a right to know; she needed to know. Surely that wasn’t too much to ask.

  He was standing by the fireplace, sipping wine, when she entered the dining room. Once again she was struck by his virility. He, too, had dressed formally, in a pin-striped suit that revealed broad, muscular shoulders and narrow hips.

  “Good evening, Judy.”

  She smiled and noted that he’d used her given name for the first time. Some of the tension drained out of her.

  “John.”

  “Would you care for a glass of wine before dinner?”

  “Please.” The inside of her mouth felt as though it was stuffed with cotton. The wine would help…or it might drown whatever wit she still possessed. As he approached her with a goblet, Judy was unsure whether she should take it. His blue eyes burned into her, and, without further thought, Judy accepted the wine.

  “Why do you hate my father?” she asked, the words slipping from her mouth as she met his gaze.

  “On the contrary, I hold him in high regard.”

  Judy’s eyes widened with disbelief.

  “Charles Lovin has more grit than twenty men half his age.”

  “You mean because he’s managed to hold you off against impossible odds?”

  “Not so impossible,” McFarland countered, before taking a sip of wine. “I did allow him a means of escape.”

  Judy considered his statement, momentarily baffled by his reasoning. “You wanted me on the island,” she said.

  “Yes, you.”

  It wasn’t as though he desired her company. In the two days since her arrival, he’d barely spoken to her; indeed, he seemed to avoid doing so.

  “But why? What possible good am I to you?”

  “None at all. I require no one.” A hardness descended over his features, and his eyes narrowed, his expression shutting her out. His face showed his arrogance—and his pride. Judy frowned, aching to soothe the hurt, erase it from his life. She longed to understand what made him the way he was. Somehow, somewhere, a cruel and heartless person had mortally wounded John McFarland’s spirit. From the torment in his eyes, she knew the scars hadn’t healed.

  “Am I to be your slave?” she asked, without anger, her voice even.

  “No.”

  “Y-your pet?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” he shouted. “You’re free to do as you wish.”

  “Can I leave?”

  He gave a curt laugh and took another sip of his wine. “You’re here to amuse me.”

  “For how long?”

  He shrugged. “Until you cease doing so.”

  Muted footsteps drew Judy’s attention to the manservant who stood just inside the dining room. He nodded once in McFarland’s direction.

  “I believe our dinner is ready. Chicken Béarnaise.” He moved to her end of the table and held out her chair. Judy was grateful for the opportunity to sit down; her legs felt wobbly. No man had ever affected her the way John did. But he claimed he needed no one, and by all outward appearances he was right.

  Once she was seated, John took the chair at the opposite end of the table.

  Judy spread out the linen napkin on her lap. “I came across some children today,” she said after several tense minutes.

  “There are a number of families who live on the island.”

  “The kids were friendly. At first I wasn’t sure they spoke English, but then I realized that they speak it so fast it sounds like a foreign language.”

  John smiled at that. “I haven’t had the opportunity to talk to them myself, but I’ll remember that when I do.”

  “They asked about you.”

  “The children?”

  “Yes, they call you the Dark Prince.”

  A brief smile flickered across his face. “They usually avoid me.”

  “I know.”

  Humor flashed in his eyes as he studied her. Once again, she’d surprised him. He’d expected her to be outraged, spitting angry tirades at him, ruining his meal. Instead, she sat at his table with the subtle grace of royalty when he knew she must be dying inside at his callousness.

  “If they call me the Dark Prince, did they give you a name?”

  Judy shifted her gaze. “I asked them to call me Judy.”

  “But they didn’t.”

  “No.” Color invaded her face, and she obviously had difficulty swallowing.

  “Tell me what they decided to call you.”

  “I—I’d prefer not to.”

  “Finding out would be a simple matter,” he said in low, unthreatening tones.

  Judy found little amusement in her predicament. “They called me ‘the Dark Prince’s woman.’ I tried to explain that I was only a friend, but it didn’t seem to do any good. This probably embarrasses you, but I couldn’t seem to
change their minds.”

  McFarland felt the laughter leave his face. He’d meant to tease her, but she was concerned that these people, these strangers who occupied his land, had offended him by suggesting she was his woman. He felt as though someone had given him a swift kick in the behind. He raised his eyes, studying her to be sure she wasn’t taunting him, and knew in his heart that it wasn’t in her to insult man or beast. And he was both.

  Their meal arrived, but McFarland had little appetite. “Do you like the island?” he asked, wanting to hear her speak again. The sound of her voice was soothing to him.

  “It’s lovely.”

  “If there’s anything you wish, you need only ask.”

  “There’s nothing.” Judy saw that his tone, his look, everything about him, had changed. His mocking arrogance had vanished; no longer did he look as though he meant to admonish her for some imagined wrong, or punish her for being her father’s daughter. She found it impossible to eat.

  “Do you dislike the solitude?”

  She searched his face, wondering why he cared. “It’s not Manhattan, but that’s fine. To be honest, I needed a vacation and this is as close to paradise as I’m likely to find.”

  “You’ve had a nap.”

  She nodded.

  “You’re to have complete run of the house and island.”

  “Thank you, John,” she said humbly, “you’ve been very kind.”

  Kind? He’d been kind to force her into staying here? Kind to have blackmailed her into leaving everything familiar in her life? He stared at her, not understanding how she could even suggest such a thing. Abruptly, he pushed aside his plate and stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some business matters that require my attention.”

  “Of course.”

  He stormed out of the room as if she’d offended him. For a full minute, Judy sat frozen, uncertain of what had happened between them. He had seemed to want her company, then despised it.

  She, too, had no desire to finish her meal, and feeling at odds with herself, she stood. It was still early, and she had no intention of returning to her rooms. John had said she could freely explore the house and she’d barely seen half of it.