—
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, goosebumps 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 basing her responses on 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 pinstriped 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?”
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 beautiful.”
“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.
Judy never made it beyond the center hall. The doors were what had attracted her most. The huge mahogany panels stretched from the ceiling to the polished floor, reminding her of ancient castles. Unable to resist, she turned both handles, pushed open the massive doors, and entered the dimly lit room.
She paused just inside and sighed with pure pleasure. It was a library, elegantly decorated with comfortable leather chairs, two desks, and a variety of tables and lamps. Every wall was filled with books. Judy couldn’t have been more pleased if she’d inadvertently stumbled upon a treasure. A flip of the switch bathed the room in light, and she hurried forward to investigate.
An hour later, when the clock chimed, Judy was astonished to realize how long she’d been there. Reverently, she set aside the first edition of Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol. Each book she saw produced a feeling of awe and respect. Mingled with the classics were volumes of modern literature; one entire wall was dedicated to nonfiction.
With such a wide variety to choose from, Judy finally selected a science-fiction novel. She sat in a high-backed leather chair and read for an hour before slipping off her shoes and tucking her feet beneath her. Suddenly thirsty, she went to the meticulous kitchen and made herself a cup of tea. She carried it into the library and returned to her chair.
McFarland found her there after midnight, sleeping contentedly in the chair, her legs curled under her. Her head was nestled against the upholstery, with one arm carelessly draped over her face. The other dangled limply at her side so that the tips of her fingers almost touched the Persian carpet. Transfixed, he stood there for a moment studying her, unable to look away.
A tender feeling weakened him, and he sat in the chair opposite hers. For a long time, he was content to do nothing but watch her sleep. He wondered at the wealth of emotion she aroused in him. He knew it wasn’t love—not even close. He felt protective toward her and yearned to take away the troubles that plagued this young woman’s life. Surprisingly, he wanted her to be happy.
She looked as innocent as a child, but she was very much a woman. She was gentle and kind, honorable without being lofty. Generous without being a pushover. He’d never known a woman like her, and he was shocked to find himself consumed with fear. He could hurt Judy Lovin, hurt her beyond anything she’d known in her life, hurt her more than Richard, who’d stolen her trust and wounded her heart with his greed.
McFarland knew she’d fall in love with him at the slightest encouragement. His conjecture wasn’t based on ego, but on the knowledge that Judy, by nature, was giving and loving. If he were to ask, she would deny him nothing. His own power frightened him, but that wasn’t what stopped him. He wasn’t any knight in shining armor. No, the simple truth was that the thought of Judy’s control over him was more terrifying than any pleasure he’d get from obtaining her love.
He considered waking her, and it seemed only natural to lean over and kiss her. Her lips would be soft under his. He pictured her raising her arms and hugging his neck. She would smile at him and they’d stare at each other. She’d blush in that way she had that made her all the more beautiful, and she’d lower her thick lashes as she struggled to hide her feelings from him.
Forcefully, McFarland’s fingers clenched the arm of the leather chair. He’d have a maid wake Judy and see her to her room.
She was just a woman, he reminded himself, and no doubt there were a million others like her. Who needed Judy Lovin? Not him.
—
“Midnight,” Judy called, standing on the bottom rung of the corral fence. “If you want it, you’ll have to come to me.” She held out the carrot to the prancing black horse, who snorted and pawed the ground.
“It’s yours for the taking,” she said soothingly. Winning the trust of the sleek, black horse had become paramount in the four days that had passed since the night she’d fallen asleep in the library. John had been avoiding her; Judy was convinced of that. The only times they were together were at dinners, and he was always preoccupied with business, avoiding conversation and generally ignoring her.
Judy wasn’t offended as much as bewildered. At any moment, she half expected to receive word that he no longer required her presence on St. Steven’s, or some other stiffly worded decree. She’d be happy to leave, although she’d miss the children, who had fast become her friends. She’d been on the island for a week now, and surely that was enough time to serve whatever purpose he had in mind.
But she would miss the children. She met them daily now on the beach. They brought her small, homemade gifts—a flowerpot and a hat both woven from palm leaves, cleverly done. A huge conch shell and a hundred smaller ones had been given to her with great ceremony.
In return she told them stories, laughed at their antics, and played their games. She met their mothers and visited their homes. She would miss them, but she wouldn’t forget them.
“Midnight,” she coaxed again. “I know you want this carrot.” If John wouldn’t allow her to be his friend, then she’d work on the horse. Judy had noticed several similarities between the two: Both were angry, arrogant, proud.
The horse remained in the farthest corner of the corral, as determined to ignore her as John seemed to be.
“I suppose all the women tell you how good-looking you are?” she said with a laugh. “But I’m not going to say that. You’re much too conceited already.”
Midnight bowed his powerful head and snorted.
“I thought that would get you.” Jumping down from the fence, Judy approached the gate. “You’re really going to make me come to you, aren’t you?”
The stallion pranced around the yard, his tail arched.
“You devil,” Judy said with a loud sigh. “All this time together and you’re more stubborn now than when I started.”
The horse continued to ignore her.
“What if I told you I had a handful of sugar cubes in my pocket?” She patted her hip. “Sweet, sweet sugar cubes that will melt in your mouth.” As she spoke, she released the clasp to the gate and let herself into the corral.
Midnight paused and stared at her, throwing his head back and forth. “You’ll have to come closer, though,” she said softly.
His hoof dug at the hard dirt.
“Honestly, horse, you’re more stubborn than your master.”
She took three steps toward the huge black stallion, who paused to study her. He jerked his neck, tossing his thick mane.
With one hand on her hip, Judy shook her head. “You don’t fool me one bit.”
Someone walked up behind her, but Judy paid no attention, suspecting it was Sam. He was bound to be angry with her. He’d told her repeatedly not to go inside the corral, but since Midnight refused to come to her, she’d decided she had no choice.
“Don’t move.” John’s steel-edged words cut through her. “If you value your life, don’t move.”
Some Kind of Wonderful Page 4
