“Where did you go?”
“Oklahoma. I got a job as a nanny for a family with horses, so I taught lessons, as well.”
“And you met this Archer and married him?”
She stared at him for a long time, her lips pressed together. “I…no. There is no husband. I invented him because I couldn’t come home as an unwed mother with an illegitimate child.”
Setting down her coffee, Jacquie looked him straight in the eyes. “Your child, Rhys. My daughter, Erin Elizabeth Archer, is also yours. The only proof you’ll need is a single glance at her beautiful face.”
His breath left him, just as it had after his fall from Imperator. He could only manage a whisper. “Say it again.”
“We were going to have a child together. I was pregnant.”
“Dear God.” She was a virgin, their first time together. He didn’t have to wonder if there’d been others.
Their waiter, timely as ever, brought a dinner that neither of them touched. Rhys pushed his plate away first. “You could have written, or called. I would have helped.”
Jacquie stared for a second at the green bean on the end of her fork, then returned it to the plate. “I didn’t want to hear you suggest an abortion.”
“I wouldn’t do that.” He hoped he wouldn’t have done that. But he had been an arrogant young man.
“And I didn’t want to be bought off with your family’s money.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“If your parents had gotten wind of my condition, they would’ve done whatever they thought would protect their precious son. They might have tried to take my baby away altogether.”
Her bitterness ran deep, with justification. His parents had not treated her with respect. “They aren’t bad people.”
“Just people with money who are used to getting their own way.” She didn’t smile, made no effort to take the sting out of the comment.
“So you handled the situation, you supported yourself and your daughter without help.” He took a perverse satisfaction from her wince. “What’s the point of telling me now?”
He’d forgotten—or had he ever known?—that Jacquie possessed a temper, too. “Don’t be stupid.
You’re here, in our backyard. We live and work in the same world—horses. And Erin looks just like you. There’s no way this secret is going to keep. I’m concerned about how to protect my little girl against being hurt.”
Rhys shrugged, pretending not to care. “You could run away again.” But Jacquie’s stare made him ashamed. “Sorry. You’ve had fourteen years to adjust to this whole mess. Give me at least fourteen minutes.”
As the waiter bustled over their uneaten food, a different face flashed in front of Rhys’s eyes. When they were alone again, he looked at Jacquie. “Andrew. Do you think they’ll see the resemblance?”
She nodded. “One of their classmates already has. It’s only a matter of time.”
They declined the waiter’s offer of dessert but accepted a refill on coffee. Rhys gave him a credit card without looking at the bill, just to make the man go away. “So they have to be told, as soon as possible.”
“No. Absolutely not.” Her eyes had hardened, and her fist hit the table. “That’s what I wanted to be sure you understand. No one is to know. Absolutely no one.”
“You just said—”
“She looks like you. And there are thousands of guys all over the world making money because they look like Elvis. If we don’t give people around here a reason to believe there’s a connection, there won’t be one. So you have to promise me you won’t say a single word about this to anybody, ever.
“But—”
“And I want you to stay as far away from me and my daughter as you possibly can.”
CHAPTER FOUR
THEY ARGUED for an hour, over cold coffee, until Rhys finally conceded that he wouldn’t say anything for now. He would wait to see what happened in the first weeks of school.
A month’s reprieve, at best. Jacquie counted herself lucky that he’d agreed to even that much. He could have insisted on his parental rights, and she doubted she could have stopped him. Rhys Lewellyn usually got what he wanted. Sitting across the table from him, watching him smile, studying his face and his hands and remembering…
No. She wouldn’t put herself through the torture. That part of her life—their time together—must stay completely in the past. For sanity’s sake.
One step outside the restaurant’s front door, the vicious whip of a cold wind sent her staggering backward. Rhys stood just behind her, and for a second they were pressed together, back to front, his hands gripping her shoulders, his chin resting on the top of her head. Like a shower of sparks, awareness drenched her from head to toe.
She moved away as fast as possible and turned to face him. “Call me,” she instructed, with as much distance as she could put into her voice, “if something happens. Erin might not say anything.”
“Andrew’s not likely to confide in me, of all people. But we’ll see. You can only take one jump at a time.”
Instead of standing where he was, Rhys moved with her into the parking lot. To her frustration, he appeared prepared to walk her all the way to her own driver’s seat.
“Some of these jumps are water hazards,” Jacquie grumbled, “with a stone wall before and a hill with a drop-off behind.” She stopped at the tailgate of her truck. Cars had parked on either side of her, and she didn’t intend to be confined in such a close space with this man. “I’m too old for that kind of ride.”
His gaze moved beyond her, assessing the situation. He must have agreed with her, because he took a step back. “If you need to get in touch, I’m usually at the farm. Except for tomorrow—the rest of my horses are flying into the Raleigh airport about noon and I’ll be driving them down.”
“Imperator doesn’t fly?”
“Not if given a choice.” He smiled, for the first time that evening, and her stupid heart fluttered in response. “We try to keep his flights to a minimum, because he gets so rattled that it can take weeks to settle him down to work. And we came here to work.”
“So first we have a snowstorm, and now you’re in the middle of a personal disaster. You must be thrilled with this decision.”
Rhys looked at her for a long moment, his face unreadable in the dark. “It’s not all bad,” he said quietly. “Good night.”
He stood by the back of the truck until she got the engine started, then gave her a brief salute and went to the other side of the parking lot for his own vehicle. Jacquie wondered if he always drove a truck, or if he still indulged himself with the wickedly fast sports cars he’d owned fourteen years ago. She couldn’t quite visualize the great Rhys Lewellyn at the wheel of a minivan with a car seat in back.
Or maybe she could, she realized as she headed home. The image of Rhys carrying a toddler in his arms made a very appealing picture.
And that was very bad news, indeed.
JACQUIE FOUND that she couldn’t just sit down over Saturday lunch and chat with Erin as if nothing important had happened. She had become so caught in a web of lies, she feared she might blurt out the truth without thinking about it.
“Let’s go for a ride,” she suggested, instead. “We’ll load up Mirage and Nina, drive over to Rourke Park and spend a few hours on the trails.” The land for the riding preserve ran along one side of Fairfield Farm, but Rhys had said he wouldn’t be home this morning and most of the afternoon. No danger there.
Erin glanced out the window. “Mom, it’s looking kinda gray. We might get caught in the rain.”
“No way. Maybe it’ll snow a little. Riding in the snow is fun, right?”
“Snow means temperatures around thirty-two degrees. That’s cold, Mom.”
“Oh, come on. It’s the weekend. Let’s live a little.”
“Okay. I guess.” After giving her a puzzled look, Erin addressed her tuna sandwich. “I hope I can find my gloves.”
She did find her war
m riding gloves, and by the time the horses stood in the trailer and Hurry had been locked in the house, she’d found her enthusiasm, too. They sang with the Christmas carols still loaded in the CD player as they drove, ending with “The Twelve Days of Christmas.”
“My favorite carol.” Erin sighed happily when they’d finished. “I remember watching you decorate a really tall tree with bows and hearing you sing that song.”
“You remember that? You were only two when I did the tree with the bows.” Discounted ribbon had been all she could afford that year. “That tree was about four feet high. You must have been on the floor looking up.”
“Seemed really tall to me. And I remember getting a fashion doll with a fancy red dress and shoes.”
“Which you promptly took off.” Not the name-brand doll, of course, but an inexpensive version. “That poor woman never wore clothes again.”
“After a while, her head got lost.”
Jacquie grinned. “You were playing doctor, I think.”
“That’s one way to cure a headache.”
They laughed together, and Jacquie tried to take a mental photograph to save against the time to come.
The wind was brisk and cold, the sky heavy with clouds as they unloaded the horses. Jacquie shivered as she swung into the saddle on Nina’s back. “Cold leather against your rear end. What a great feeling.”
Erin rolled her eyes. “You’re weird. Let’s go.”
The trails in Rourke Park ran through a forest of longleaf pine trees and leafless hardwoods, over small rises and shallow dips, with the occasional fallen trunk to jump over or find a way around. Patches of snow lingered in the shade, but the trees cut the wind.
“See, it’s not so cold.” She caught up with Erin at the edge of an open ride, after a good long trot.
“That’s why your breath is hanging in the air with icicles dripping off, right?” But Erin grinned, happy and energetic, the way she always was on horseback. “Can we gallop here?”
“Be my guest.” Erin took off across the field on her dappled gray, a study in the close communication possible between horse and rider.
Then Jacquie glanced down at Nina and gave her glossy brown neck a pat. “Ready, girl? We can match that, right?” When she looked up again, she thought for a second her eyes had crossed.
Two horses now moved in profile against the sky. Other trailers had been parked at the entrance to the park, and other riders were using the trails, so the sight wasn’t unexpected…until you noticed the quality of that second horse. The fluid movement, the perfect form, the exquisite arch of a proud neck, said “champion” louder than words ever could.
Even so, there should have been no reason for alarm. This part of North Carolina boasted plenty of fine horseflesh, fielded more than its share of winners. Yet Jacquie knew, with a certainty that chilled her to the marrow, which horse she was watching. Imperator.
“Damn you, Rhys Lewellyn.” Blaming him made no sense—he hadn’t known they would be out today. But she had to blame somebody. She urged Nina into a trot, and then a fast canter, in deference to the uneven footing. “Damn you.”
Her mare Nina was a big girl, and covered ground at a fast clip. Soon enough, they reached the crest of the hill where she’d seen the other horses. Mirage and Imperator now cantered down the far slope side by side, their riders as alike as dolls off an assembly line. Then she realized the truth. This wasn’t Rhys astride the champion horse, but his son Andrew—the last person Jacquie wanted Erin to spend time talking with. Other than her father, of course.
With no hope of being heard if she shouted, all she could do was charge after them, trying to catch up with horses bred and trained to race across country just like this in record time. Nina’s giant heart gave everything she had, though, and Jacquie closed the distance between herself and her daughter.
Hearing hoofbeats behind them, Erin and Andrew reined in their horses and eased to a stop. When Jacquie arrived, the two kids turned their heads in unison to look at her. In boots and breeches and parkas, wearing helmets buckled under their chins, boy and girl were virtually indistinguishable.
Erin spoke first. “Mom, this is Andrew Lewellyn. Mr. Lewellyn’s son.”
Jacquie nodded. “I met him last Saturday. Hello again, Andrew.”
“Mrs. Archer.” Even their voices were similar, and both resembled Rhys’s smooth tone.
“And Imperator,” Erin added. “Isn’t he gorgeous?”
“Amazing,” Jacquie agreed. She looked at Andrew. “And I’m even more amazed your dad allows you to ride him. He’s a handful, isn’t he?”
As if to prove her right, the champion sidled, attempted to rear, then kicked out at the wind with his back legs. Andrew admirably held on to his seat.
Since the boy obviously rode quite well, Jacquie’s only real concern was getting away before any tricky questions could be asked. “Erin, we need to head back. The horses will get chilled.” With a nod to Rhys’s son, she turned Nina toward the pine forest. “Take care, Andrew.”
The distant shrill of a horse’s call—panicked, or maybe angry—echoed unexpectedly across the open hills. Nina startled and shied, and for a moment Jacquie had her hands full calming her own horse. When she could, she looked to see Erin handling Mirage just fine.
Andrew, however, could only cling like a burr to the back of his out-of-control stallion. Imperator reared, bucked and hopped, then kicked out with both front and rear legs. The boy hung on and, when all four hooves hit the ground again, attempted to exert control.
Not a chance. With the bit literally between his teeth, Imperator took off again, galloping madly in one direction, wheeling, then dashing at a different slant. During one of those abrupt changes of angle, Andrew finally fell off. The horse vanished over the next hill.
Jacquie reached him first and slid off Nina’s back, praying the mare wouldn’t choose to bolt, since there was nowhere nearby to tie her. Erin trotted up and started to dismount, but Jacquie held up one hand, reaching into her pocket for her cell phone with the other.
“What you need to do is follow that stupid horse. Don’t try to catch him. We just want to know where he is. The park is fenced and he can’t get out—well, unless he chooses to jump the fence and then we’re all screwed.” A million-dollar horse, loose on the road. “Maybe you can herd him—from a distance—back this way. Just keep him in sight.”
Erin nodded and headed Mirage in the last direction Imperator had taken. Jacquie made her report to the emergency services number, receiving an assurance that help was on its way. Then she turned to get a good look at Rhys’s son.
Unconscious, he lay on his back as he’d landed, breathing but not otherwise moving. His helmet had stayed on, which was for the best, and she thought the angle of his neck looked normal. She’d been warned not to move any part of his body, but she prodded gently, without finding obvious breaks. He wasn’t wearing a protective vest, as both she and Erin did in country like this, so there might be internal injuries. At the very least, he had a concussion—a common enough occurrence for those who worked around and with horses. She only hoped that was the worst of his injuries.
The day dimmed as she knelt beside the injured boy; the wind picked up and the temperature dropped. Andrew didn’t regain consciousness. Jacquie covered him with her parka, terrified that he would go into hypothermia before the rescue squad arrived. Protected only by her vest, sweatshirt, turtleneck and long johns, she was soon shivering uncontrollably. Thank God, she still had her gloves and helmet. And that Erin had worn hers.
She looked at the countryside around them, peering through the darkening twilight. Where was Erin? And where the hell was that diabolical, son-of-a-bitch horse?
Sirens alerted her to the approach of the ambulance, and then her phone rang—the driver asking for specific directions. The flash of lights at the top of the rise brought tears to Jacquie’s eyes and startled Nina into a trot which, fortunately, did not take her too far away. Two ambulances desce
nded the slope and stopped at Jacquie’s shoulder. A swarm of EMTs emerged, one of whom offered her blankets and a cup of hot tea and handed her parka back. The rest completely ignored her in their concern for Andrew.
Jacquie downed the tea and gave the EMTs Rhys’s phone number, reassured that they would take the boy straight to the hospital. Wrapped in the welcome warmth of her coat, she went to Nina and loosened the reins she’d knotted to keep them off the ground, put her foot in the stirrup and launched herself once more into the saddle.
The leather was much colder now than when she’d complained earlier in the day. How good would it feel to get home, take a hot bath and curl up under a heavy layer of quilts? After this adventure, she and Erin might sleep their way through Sunday, dawn to dusk. But first…
First, she had a horse to catch.
“HE’S NOT HERE,” Terry announced, coming back to the stable from the house.
“Imperator’s not in the stable.” Rhys walked Ricochet, who’d arrived only a couple of hours ago, out of the trailer and into his stall. “I told Andrew I’d send him back to his grandfather if he did this again.”
“You shouldn’t make threats you can’t follow through on.”
“I know.” He’d accepted his incompetence as a parent long ago. “I guess we’ll just wait until he rides in and have another showdown. Want to watch?”
“I’ll pass, thanks. But when you’re finished, I’ll take my turn.”
“Have at it.”
By the time their work in the barn was done, the horses settled and the sun setting, the truants had not yet returned. Rhys conceded to the worry that had gnawed at him for the last couple of hours. “Something’s happened.”
Terry nodded. “Probably.”
“I’ll call the hospital, just in case.”
“Good idea.”
But he was saved the trouble by the blinking light on his answering machine. “Rhys, it’s Jacquie. Andrew took Imperator out this afternoon in Rourke Park, the riding preserve that runs along your western property line. He got thrown and knocked unconscious. I called the rescue squad and they’re here with him now, taking him to the hospital. Erin’s supposed to keep an eye on that damn horse of yours, and I’m going to try to catch him. You go to Andrew. I’ll get the horse home if I can.”
The Fake Husband Page 6
