He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the sickness that threatened to overtake him. When he looked at Terry again, he found the Irishman staring at him with both surprise and concern.
“I wasn’t sure till now,” his friend said gently. “This isn’t about the pain, is it?”
Rhys didn’t answer, which was as good as a confession.
“There’s no shame in being nervous after a bad fall. Why didn’t you say something?”
Nervous didn’t qualify. Terrified might work. “I’ll get past this. I have to.”
Terry laid a hand on his shoulder. “Sure, you will. I’m thinking all you need is time. But the horse has his own troubles to deal with. Who’ll ride him out of them?”
Before Rhys could reply, the phone rang. He knew it wouldn’t be Jacquie…unless something had happened on the way home. The possibility had him snatching up the phone. “Lewellyn.”
“Hadn’t heard from you since you left, thought you might have vanished amidst the savages.” Owen Lewellyn had little use for the normal etiquette of “hello.”
“No, sir, just getting settled in.”
“Putting the horse back to work?”
“Of course.” Not exactly a lie.
“About time. I’ve got no patience for an animal that doesn’t earn its keep.”
Rhys pressed the heel of his hand against one pounding temple. “I’ll be running him for the first time in about six weeks, at a schooling day I’m arranging for promotional purposes. The first weekend in March, if you’d like to attend.”
“From Olympic champion to a dinky farm schooling day. Quite a comedown for the great Imperator.”
“Not at all. This is sophisticated horse country, and Imperator will be the drawing card, the premier attraction. Then he’ll be perfectly fit in time for the Top Flight trials at the beginning of April. Nothing dinky about that event.”
“Well, you’d better see to it that he wins. He’s no good to us if all he does is eat his bloody head off.”
“I’m the one paying for his feed.”
His father cracked a harsh laugh. “Temporarily. I give you six months before you roll up your tents and come back where you belong. Meantime, get the horse in shape and making money, or else I’ll call in my option and sell him to the highest bidder.” Without a goodbye, the phone line went dead.
“Andrew gets his wish.” Rhys put down the phone and looked at Terry across the width of the kitchen. “He’ll start working with Imperator on the jumps Thursday afternoon.”
“And yourself?”
Shaking his head, Rhys retreated into the hallway and wearily climbed the stairs. As little as he knew why he was afraid did he know what to do about it.
But he owed Imperator his best, even if that meant training another rider to take his place. And who better than his own son?
He stood for a minute in Andrew’s doorway, watching him sleep. The room was unnaturally neat, a remnant from the years with his mother. Tonight, he sprawled across the bed in unconscious abandon, more vulnerable than Rhys had seen him since he was a toddler. Olivia had taken the boy away just after his first birthday, holding him hostage to gain a favorable divorce settlement.
Rhys had finally gotten him back last summer, along with the chance to undo thirteen years of estrangement. What he knew about being a parent could fit in a thimble—his own father being an example of exactly how he did not intend to behave. Yet, all too often, he and Andrew seemed to be treading the familiar path of rebellion and retribution.
Not for a lack of concern, at least on Rhys’s part. He’d cared deeply about his son from the moment he knew the baby existed, and had only allowed Andrew to leave with Olivia because it seemed best for such a young child to be with his mother.
Now a boy turning into a man, Andrew was worthy of respect from his peers and from his father. His academic gifts surpassed Rhys’s achievements, and his riding ability would soon do the same. Rhys wanted—needed—to work with his son, to develop a partnership they would both value. The beginning of that collaboration was not, so far, very promising.
With a sigh, Rhys turned to his own room. Now there was Erin, complicating the situation even further. And Jacquie—a woman every bit as desirable as she was fourteen years ago. But much stronger. Formidable, even.
And completely convinced that she never wanted to see him again.
“WHY DON’T YOU WANT to help Mr. Lewellyn with his show?” After waking up for a fast food dinner, Erin voiced her question in the quiet darkness of the drive home.
“I’ve got enough to do, just taking care of what we already have scheduled.” Jacquie drew a sharp breath, blew it out quickly. “I don’t have time for such a big project.”
“You said you won’t even let me compete.”
That had been a mistake, born of panic. “You’ve got plenty of shows on your schedule.”
“And you’re not taking me back for more lessons.” The calm statements were totally unlike Erin’s usual hyperactive dialogue. She sounded like a weary adult.
Jacquie felt like a rebellious teenager. “I told you this would be the only one.”
“You never said why. But I can see you don’t like Mr. Lewellyn very much. Was he mean, when you trained with him in New York?”
“Not mean. Strict, the way he was with you this afternoon.” She didn’t want to think about Rhys.
Erin wanted to talk about nothing else. “I like him. I want to ride with him.”
Fighting the urge to scream, Jacquie couldn’t form a reply.
“Maybe I could get a ride home with Andrew on my lesson days, and you wouldn’t have to drive into town.”
“So I can load up Mirage all by myself, plus your tack and your clothes, and bring them out here? Would you like me to have him saddled and waiting when you arrive?”
Bitch! she screamed at herself.
Erin didn’t say another word, but turned her face to the side window and rode the rest of the way in silence. There was no friendly chatter while they fed the horses, no request for homework help after dinner. Once again, they went to their separate rooms for the night with anger between them.
Rhys had been in North Carolina for barely two weeks and already she and her daughter were more at odds than they had been in the previous fourteen years.
How could she possibly allow him any further into their life?
JACQUIE KNEW she’d been given a sign from above when all three of the clients she had scheduled for the last Thursday in January called before 8:00 a.m. that morning to cancel.
“I get a day off,” she said with glee as she drove Erin to school. “A whole day without the clang of an anvil in my ears. Can you believe it?”
“Why don’t I get a day off?” Erin stuck out her lower lip in a pretend pout. “I’m tired of the whole school thing.”
“You’ll get President’s Day in just a couple of weeks. And winter break. And spring break. Not to mention the whole summer, when I’ll be out in the heat shoeing horses while you laze around in the house.”
“But I want today, too. What are you going to do?”
Jacquie couldn’t actually envision a day empty of hammers and horseshoe nails. “I’m not sure. What do you suggest?”
“Well, first you buy me some new clothes. And some new shoes. And a couple of new CDs, maybe some more new clothes…oh, and you pick me up so we can go to lunch somewhere. How’s that sound?”
“Like you’re still asleep and dreaming.” Stopping the truck in the drop-off lane, she ruffled her daughter’s red hair. “Have a good day.”
“Oh, sure.” But Erin laughed as she closed the door, and ran to catch up with Cathy Parr. The two girls walked together into the school building, chattering all the way.
“Now what?” Jacquie cast a glance at the Carolina Diner just across the street, already tasting her favorite bacon-and-eggs platter. But the bowl of oatmeal she’d eaten for breakfast would be enough calories for the morning, especially on a day when she w
asn’t doing any actual work. Maybe the diner for lunch. Abby and Charlie made fantastic cheeseburgers.
By late morning, she had gotten the oil changed in the truck, visited a hair salon for a shampoo and trim, checked out a couple of her favorite dress shops. The jeans, sweatshirt and turtleneck she’d started out the day wearing were replaced by a pair of dark brown wool slacks and a heathery green sweater, along with the new pair of clogs she’d needed to match the outfit.
She was standing on Main Street in downtown New Skye, staring at the rings in the window of Ryan’s Jewelry Store, when someone spoke behind her.
“Looks like someone is on a spending spree. Are diamonds next on the list?”
“What makes you think I’m spending?” She didn’t glance back at him, but felt Rhys come up to stand at her shoulder.
“I saw you in the parking lot at school this morning. You wore a dark blue sweatshirt, a yellow turtleneck, and you had your hair in a ponytail. A nice look, but you’ve got to admit you’ve upgraded considerably in the last three hours.”
He’d noticed her amidst all the traffic and teenagers? She turned around. “What are you doing in town today?”
“I had to file some forms with the county offices for the schooling day, and I thought I’d spend a little time getting to know my new hometown. Would you like to be my guide?”
“No” came automatically to her lips, but Jacquie hesitated, aware of a sudden, almost painful desire to let herself enjoy his company. She’d never seen him in January before—they’d only spent the months from June until September together. After their…breakup…she’d tried to imagine what he would look like during the other seasons, but finally she’d realized she couldn’t keep wondering and expect to heal her heart.
Now she could see that winter was good to Rhys—he looked young and rested and charming this morning in an ice-blue pullover sweater and dark jeans under a green barn coat, with the mild sun glinting in the shock of hair falling over his forehead. His wide shoulders were relaxed, his eyes laughing, his smile a little cocky.
“I won’t bite,” he promised with a wink, “if you don’t.”
Jacquie couldn’t repress a smile. “It’s a deal.”
They walked all around downtown New Skye while she explained the ongoing revitalization plans, the push to bring merchants and restaurants back to what had once been deserted storefronts. The leafless pear trees and empty planters along the newly bricked Main Street seemed to blossom with spring flowers as she described the annual Azalea Festival, the New Skye International Weekend, and the Dickens Christmas celebration which took place every year.
“New Skye is small,” she finished up, as they came back to the jeweler’s window. “But it’s a really nice place to live.”
“I can see that.” Rhys rubbed his hands together. “But with those clouds moving in, it’s cold, too. Is there somewhere nearby we could get some lunch? And a hot drink?”
He saw panic edge into Jacquie’s gaze. “Nowhere special,” he added. “Just a hot dog and coffee.”
“Well, there is the Carolina Diner…”
“Too crowded, don’t you think?” She wouldn’t want to be seen with him. Glancing around, he noticed Drew’s Coffee Shop across the street and down a short distance. “How about Drew’s? Doesn’t look very busy from here.”
Jacquie’s shoulders relaxed. “That’s a good idea. We won’t have to drive.”
Rhys could hear her unspoken thought—And I won’t have to explain you to anyone I know.
Then, as he started to follow her through the door into the coffee shop, she stopped dead on the thresh-old. He put a hand on her shoulder to steady her after their bump, and followed her line of vision to see what had stopped her in her tracks.
“Jacquie!” A lovely woman with short dark hair and a wide smile was coming toward them. “I haven’t see you since the holidays. How are you?” Rhys dropped his hand as the woman took Jacquie in a gentle hug. “Not working today?”
“Kate.” After a second’s pause, Jacquie returned the embrace. “I’m fine. You look wonderful.” She lifted her head to greet the man who joined them. “Hey, Dixon. Good to see you.”
Taller than Rhys by a couple of inches, Dixon bent to kiss Jacquie’s cheek. “You, too, Madam Farrier. You did a great job on those nags of mine, as usual.”
“They make it easy.” Flushing, Jacquie turned to Rhys. “I always seem to be introducing you to my friends. This is Dixon Bell and his wife Kate, both of whom graduated in my high-school class. I’d like y’all to meet Rhys Lewellyn. He recently moved to the area with his horses.”
“Welcome to New Skye,” Kate Bell said. “Come sit down with us and warm up. It’s getting colder by the minute out there.”
They all settled into small ironwork chairs around an equally small ice-cream–parlor table. In the shuffle to get settled, Jacquie’s knee pushed into Rhys’s thigh. He held himself still, hoping she wouldn’t notice, hoping she wouldn’t move away.
A waitress with a crew cut dyed lime-green came to take their order. “You need anything else, Dixon?”
“Thanks, Daphne. I’m good.”
She closed her eyes. “I’m sure you are.”
Mr. and Mrs. Bell and Jacquie looked at each other and snickered. “She’s got it bad for you,” Jacquie told Dixon.
“I have never encouraged her,” he said, holding up his hand as if to swear.
His wife patted his elbow. “You’re her fantasy, sweetheart. It’s all right.” She looked at Rhys. “What kind of horses do you have, Mr. Lewellyn?”
“Rhys, please.”
Her smile was a gift. “I’m Kate.”
“Kate.” He nodded. “I ride eventing horses. Dressage, cross-country, and stadium jumping.”
Jacquie rolled her eyes. “Rhys is being modest. He’s been to the Olympics twice, and took home the gold in the last games.”
Dixon and Kate sat back in their chairs, their eyes wide. “That’s right—Imperator,” Kate said. “I remember now. I read an article about the two of you last fall sometime, didn’t I?”
“You’re not just any horseman, then,” Dixon said. “Are you planning to continue your Olympic career from this area?”
They talked horses for a while, because it turned out that Dixon kept a couple of his own at Phoebe Moss’s barn, and had spent years as a cowboy himself, a type of riding for which Rhys had great respect. The conversation veered through Jacquie’s role as the farrier in keeping horses sound and on to Kate’s desire to learn freestyle dressage.
“I think I would enjoy the chance to ride in rhythm with music,” she said. “Like performing a ballet.”
“Or a waltz, or even the rumba,” Rhys agreed. “I’ve done some freestyle in the past and it can be as pleasurable as dancing to great music with someone you love.” Under the table, Jacquie’s leg jerked, and she pulled her chair back a good six inches, breaking their connection. “If you’d like to pursue freestyle dressage, I’d be glad to work with you.”
“That would be wonderful.”
Dixon shook his head. “I can see I’ve got some fancy, high-priced European horses in my future.”
“You’d better write a few more songs,” Jacquie told him. “A couple of number-one hits ought to cover the price of a Dutch Warmblood, I think. Dixon writes songs for a living,” she explained to Rhys, while Daphne set their plates down on the table. “In addition to being a cowboy and a roughneck and whatever else he did all those years he was gone.”
“I’m not the only one who ran away,” he retorted.
“I came back before you did,” Jacquie pointed out.
“Children, children,” Kate said gently. “Eat your lunch or I’ll send you to your rooms.”
After a meal filled with laughter on all sides, the four of them braved the freshening wind out on the sidewalk.
“It’s a real pleasure to meet you.” Dixon held out a hand to Rhys. “I imagine we’ll be in touch about dressage lessons and all tha
t. For somebody who never rode before, my wife has taken quite an interest in the equine world.”
“It’s a good place to be,” Rhys said. “Call me anytime.”
“Will do.”
The Bells went to their car, a blue Volvo parked nearby at the curb, and Rhys followed Jacquie in the opposite direction.
“That wasn’t so bad,” he said finally, when she didn’t say anything at all. “Nothing dire happened.”
She walked slowly, head down and hands in her pants pockets. “It’s only a matter of time.”
“If you simply told your friends, and Erin, the worst would be over.”
“Except for the fact that Erin will hate me. My parents will be hurt and ashamed. My friends will be disappointed, and—”
“And they’ll all get over it. Even Erin.”
Jacquie shook her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t think Erin would ever forgive me.”
Rhys put a hand on her arm and turned her to face him. “For caring about her? For sacrificing everything you wanted to be her mother? For giving her life and love and your unwavering support when there were other, easier options?” He shook his head. “Erin is not stupid. She’ll understand, if you’ll just give her the chance.”
Eyes filling with tears, Jacquie stared at him for a moment. Then she stepped back. “I can’t,” she said in a broken voice. “I can’t risk it.”
Then she turned, walking swiftly away from him into the gray afternoon, without a single glance back.
“You have to,” Rhys told her quietly, though she was long out of earshot. “Because I can’t let either of you go.”
ANDREW TAPPED HIS PENCIL on the table, then stopped when he got a dirty look from the librarian. “Shh.”
He rolled his eyes. Where was this kid anyway, the one he was supposed to tutor in math? At this rate, they’d barely get their books open and the bell would ring for the next class.
The library door squeaked behind him, and he turned around to see Erin Archer coming in.
The Fake Husband Page 10
