Some Kind of Wonderful

by Debbie Macomber

  “Who?”

  “McFarland.”

  A muscle worked in his lean jaw, and when he looked at her again, his eyes were dark and enigmatic. “Some say he’s a man without a heart.”

  Judy grinned and lowered her own eyes to the ground. “My father calls him the Beast.”

  “The Beast.” He seemed to find that amusing. “Some claim there’s no compassion in him. Others say he has no conscience.”

  She glanced at the man’s lathered, dusty horse and then at him. Pride showed in the tilt of his strong chin and the set of his shoulders. Thoughtfully, she shook her head. “No,” she said slowly, “I don’t agree with that.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No,” she repeated confidently. “He appreciates beauty too much. And if he didn’t have a conscience he would’ve—” She realized she was saying much more than she should to one of McFarland’s employees. McFarland could have ruined her father ten times over, but he hadn’t. He might not have a heart of gold, but he wasn’t without conscience. Nor was he cruel.

  “What do you think he’s like? I take it you haven’t met the man.”

  “I’m not sure how I feel about him. As you say, we haven’t met, but from what I’ve seen, I’d guess there’s precious little joy in his life.”

  The man laughed outright. “Look around you,” he said. “He’s said to be one of the richest men in the world. How could any man have so much and not be happy?”

  “Joy comes from within,” she explained. “There’s too much bitterness in him. He obviously hasn’t experienced true contentment.”

  “And who are you? A psychiatrist?”

  It was Judy’s turn to laugh; she’d grown more at ease with this dark stranger. “No. I formed my opinions before I came to the island.”

  “Wait until you meet him, then. You may be pleasantly surprised.”

  “Perhaps.” But Judy doubted it.

  They arrived at the stables and were met by a burly older man, who ambled out.

  “Good morning, Sam.”

  “Morning,” the other man grumbled, eyeing Judy curiously.

  “Saddle Princess for Ms. Lovin and see to it that Midnight gets extra oats. He deserves it after the ride I gave him this morning.”

  Judy turned abruptly. “How did you know my name?”

  He ignored her, but his eyes softened slightly at her questioning look. “Tomorrow morning, saddle both horses at five-thirty. Ms. Lovin and I will be riding together.”

  “Consider it done, Mr. McFarland.”

  Embarrassment washed over Judy. She dared not look at him.

  “I’ll see you at lunch, Ms. Lovin.”

  It was all she could do to nod.

  —

  The morning passed with surprising speed. Judy hadn’t ridden in months, and her body was unaccustomed to the rigors of the saddle. She hadn’t gone far, preferring to investigate the island another day. A hot breakfast awaited her after she’d showered, and she ate eagerly. When she’d finished, she had written her father a long letter. She’d been told that no direct contact—like phone calls or email messages—would be allowed; letters were permitted, however, and would be mailed for her. Once she’d completed and addressed the letter, she lay back on the velvet sofa and closed her eyes, listening to music. The balcony doors were open and the fresh sea air swirled around her.

  Someone knocked politely at her door. A maid had been sent to inform Judy that lunch would be served in ten minutes.

  Experiencing dread and excitement at once, Judy stood, repaired the damage to her hair and makeup, and slowly descended the stairs. She paused at the bottom, gathered her resolve, and forced a smile, wondering how long it would last. She didn’t expect to maintain the cheerful façade, but it was important to give McFarland the impression that she’d been unruffled by their earlier encounter. Her palms were already damp in anticipation of the second meeting with the man who ruled an empire from this island.

  He stood when she entered the dining room.

  “I trust your morning was satisfactory,” he said.

  Boldly, Judy met his probing gaze. “Why am I here?” She hadn’t meant to immediately hurl questions at him, but his discerning look had unnerved her.

  “I believe it’s to eat lunch. Please sit down, Ms. Lovin. I, for one, am hungry, and our meal will be served as soon as you’re comfortable.”

  The butler held out a mahogany chair at the end of the table, where she’d eaten the night before. With rebellion boiling in her blood, Judy sat on the brocade cushion.

  A bowl of consommé was set in front of her. When Judy lifted her spoon, she discovered that her hand was trembling, and she tightened her grip.

  “How long do you plan to keep me here?” she asked. Six place settings separated them; the distance could’ve been far greater for all the notice McFarland gave her.

  “You’ll be free to go shortly,” he announced between courses, having waited a full five minutes before responding.

  “I can leave?” she said in astonishment. “When?”

  “Soon.” He gauged her expression grimly. “Are you so miserable?”

  “No,” she admitted, smoothing the linen napkin across her lap. “The island is lovely.”

  “Good.” His eyes grew gentle.

  “Whose decision was it for you to come?” he asked unexpectedly.

  “Mine.”

  He nodded and seemed to approve. “I imagine that your father and brother were opposed to your willingness to sacrifice yourself.” He said this with more than a hint of sarcasm.

  “Adamantly. I probably never would’ve been told of your…ultimatum, but I accidentally overheard them discussing it.”

  “You were wise to come.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I wouldn’t have hesitated to call in the loan.”

  “I don’t doubt that for a second,” she said, disliking him. Her fingers gripped the napkin in her lap, but that was the only outward sign of anger that she allowed herself.

  His grin lacked humor. “If you’d refused, you would’ve been burdened with a terrible guilt. In time, your peace and happiness would have been affected.”

  The butler took away her untouched salad and served the main course. Judy stared down at the thin slices of roast beef smothered in gravy and mushrooms, and knew she wouldn’t be able to eat.

  “Have you always been this dictatorial?” Judy demanded.

  “Always.” He carefully cut his meat.

  She thought of the class of four-year-olds she’d left behind. “You must have been a difficult child.” His teen years didn’t bear contemplating.

  Slowly, deliberately, McFarland lowered his knife and fork to the table. His eyes were sad. “I was never a child.”

  —

  Princess was saddled and ready for Judy early the following morning. Judy patted the horse’s nose and produced a carrot from the hip pocket of her jeans.

  “At great personal danger, I sneaked into the kitchen and got you this,” she whispered, running her hand down the mare’s brown face. “Now, don’t you dare tell Sam, or he’ll be mad at me.” Judy had quickly realized that Sam ruled the stables like his own castle and she could well be stepping on the older man’s toes.

  “Do you have something for me as well?” The deep male voice spoke from behind her.

  Judy whirled around to see McFarland. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I hope you don’t mind…” She eyed the rapidly disappearing carrot.

  He was dressed in black this morning, his expression brooding. Once again his hat brim shadowed his face. His mood seemed as dark and dangerous as his clothes. “You needn’t worry about stealing vegetables.”

  Without another word, he mounted his horse with supple ease. He hesitated long enough to reach for the reins and sent Judy a look that said she was welcome to join him or go her own way.

  Quickly, Judy placed her foot in the stirrup and swung onto Princess’s back, grabbed the reins, and cantere
d after him.

  McFarland rode at an unrelenting gallop, leading her into the jungle. The footpath was narrow and steep. Birds cawed angrily and flew out of their way, their wings beating against the underbrush. Leaves and branches slapped at Judy’s face; mud spattered her boots and jeans. Still, he didn’t lessen his furious pace. It took all of Judy’s skill just to keep up with him. She barely managed. By the time he slowed, she was winded and her muscles ached. He directed Midnight onto the beach and Judy followed gratefully, allowing Princess to trot along the sandy shoreline.

  Judy stared at him. Panting, she was too breathless to speak coherently. “Good—grief; McFarland—do you always tear—through the jungle like that?”

  “No.” He didn’t look at her. “I wanted to see how well you ride.”

  “And?”

  “Admirably well.” He grinned, and his eyes sparkled with humor. Judy found herself involuntarily returning his smile.

  “Next time,” she said between gasps, “I choose the route.” Dark mud dotted her clothes and face. Her hair fell in wet tendrils around her cheeks and she felt as though they’d galloped through a swamp.

  He, on the other hand, had hardly splattered his shiny boots.

  “Tell me about Judy Lovin,” he demanded unexpectedly as they trotted side by side.

  “On one condition. I want you to answer something for me.”

  “One question?”

  “Only one,” she promised, raising her right hand as though swearing an oath.

  “All right.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Details.”

  She nodded curtly. “I weighed just under seven pounds when I was born—”

  “Perhaps current information would be more appropriate,” he cut in.

  Judy threw back her head and laughed. “Fine. I’m twenty-six—”

  “That old?”

  She glowered at him. “How am I supposed to tell you anything if you keep interrupting?”

  “Go on.”

  “Thank you,” she muttered sarcastically. “Let me see—I suppose you want the vitals. I’m five-five, which is short, I know, and I weigh about…No.” She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s information a woman should share with a man.”

  He chuckled and Judy drew back on the reins, surprised at the deep, rich sound. She suspected he didn’t often give in to the urge.

  He sent her an odd, half-accusing look. “Is something wrong?”

  “No,” she responded, feeling self-conscious. He really should laugh more often, she thought. He looked young and carefree and less—she couldn’t find the word—driven, she decided.

  “What about men?”

  “Men?”

  “As in beaux, boyfriends, dates, male companionship—that kind of thing.”

  “I date frequently.” Although that was a slight misrepresentation of the truth…

  “Anyone special?”

  “No—unless you consider Bobby. He’s four and could steal my heart with a pout.” She stopped Princess, swung her leg over the horse’s back, and slowly lowered her feet to the ground.

  McFarland dismounted as well.

  “My turn.”

  He shrugged. “Fire away.”

  “May I call you by your name?” She found it ridiculous that a man would be called simply McFarland.

  “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, but 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.” With 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 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.

  Chapter 3

  Princess’s hind hooves 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.