“What would you like to drink with your dinner?” she asked.
“Water would be fine.”
Swain retrieved two bottles from the refrigerator and set them on the table, but Lillie didn’t move to take her seat.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m sorry. Every evening when I’ve come up for dinner, you were always waiting for me to get things started. When I came in and didn’t see you or any food set out to prepare, I guess I worried that something was wrong.”
“No, I should have rung you and let you know I was running late. I apologize for snapping at you. It’s just been a long day.”
Swain waved toward the table. “We shouldn’t let this food go to waste. Catherine’s a very good chef.”
Lillie took the seat Swain pulled out for her and spooned up portions of steak-and-kidney pie for both of them. She took a bite and closed her eyes. “Mmm. This is incredible.”
They ate in silence for several minutes before Lillie spoke again. “She’s very pretty.”
Swain chewed slowly, trying to decipher her tone. Is Lillie interested? Swain tamped down a sudden surge of possessiveness. Lillie didn’t belong to her. And she liked Catherine. But not for Lillie. Swain stopped in mid-chew. Wait. Maybe that wasn’t what Lillie was asking. “Catherine? Yes, she is. She told you that we once dated?”
Lillie nodded. “She insinuated that, yes.” She put her fork down. “This is truly delicious, but I’m afraid I won’t hire her.”
Ah. Swain felt unreasonably happy that Lillie apparently wasn’t interested in Catherine, but worried about Swain’s interest in Catherine. She sat back in her chair. “Lillie, you can hire anyone you want. But don’t pass her over because—”
“The reason—”
“Wait. Let me finish, please.” Swain wrapped her fingers around Lillie’s. “Catherine and I dated for a short time several years ago and have remained friends. Catherine’s bisexual and has moved here to be close to a guy she’s been dating pretty seriously.”
“I see.”
When Lillie squeezed Swain’s hand and released it to pick up her fork again, Swain immediately felt the loss. “I just thought you should know that if you hired her, she wouldn’t be hanging around the barn all the time with me.”
Lillie waved her fork dismissively. “That hadn’t crossed my mind.”
Swain frowned. Maybe her first thought had been correct. “Or…in case, you were interested.”
“Interested?”
Swain worried her napkin, folding and unfolding it in her lap. They hadn’t acted on their attraction, but undeniably something more than friendship was simmering between them. Did Lillie feel the same attraction for Catherine? “Interested in asking her out.”
“Oh.” Lillie’s smile started with just a curl of her lip. “She seems nice. And very attractive.” Then it grew into an all-out grin. “But, actually, I hadn’t thought of that either.”
Swain was relieved, but wagged her fork at Lillie to let her know she realized she was being played. “Okay. So if neither of us wants to date her, why won’t you hire her? We could eat like this every night. That is, if I’m still invited when you don’t need me to cook.”
Lillie looked up from her plate. “I hope you will continue to come up to share dinner. I enjoy your company. Very much.”
“I enjoy your company, too.”
They gazed into each other’s eyes, letting the unspoken words hang between them. Swain finally broke the silence. “If not Catherine, who do you want to hire?”
“Mary Chandler.”
“Really? Mary’s an excellent choice. But what made you pick her over the others?”
Lillie shrugged. “She needs the job more. Her turkey casserole that we ate the other night was fantastic. And I felt instantly at ease around her. She reminds me of the mum of a friend I had in primary school. I loved going to my friend’s house because her mum always had fresh biscuits baked and let us help in the kitchen sometimes.”
Swain shoveled a forkful of apple crumble into her mouth and hummed as she chewed and swallowed. “Maybe we can get Catherine to share some of her recipes with Mary.”
Lillie laughed at Swain’s antics. “I like Catherine very much. Maybe if we ask her over as a friend, we could wheedle a few recipes out of her.”
Swain nodded. But she really didn’t want anyone else sharing her time with Lillie. Not even her very good friend Catherine.
Chapter Fifteen
Swain looked in the mirror and grimaced at her reflection. What in God’s name was she doing?
Lillie had accepted her invitation to go to the track and check out the filly Tim had urged her to consider. So Swain thought she’d take a little extra time and show her around the quaint, historic town. It was just part of her plan to fulfill Abigail’s request that she teach Lillie what was important to the Wetherington family. Wasn’t it?
Standing in front of that mirror, she realized she’d changed shirts for the second time, searching for the right one to bring out the blue in her eyes. Swain sighed. While she’d been seducing Lillie with ponies and polo lessons, she had unwittingly fallen prey to her big brown eyes and her sweetness laced with a dry British sense of humor.
The very thought of Lillie made her skin flush and her heart beat faster. When she awoke that morning, she’d lain in bed, wondering. Was Lillie still sleeping, curled around a pillow, the sunlight dancing across her soft features? What would it be like to kiss Lillie awake?
She stared in the mirror at the same reflection that always looked back when she combed her hair and brushed her teeth. She was also looking at a stranger. She’d never felt this inexplicable anticipation, this overwhelming need to be near one particular person. But anything more shouldn’t, couldn’t happen between them. “We’re just friends,” she muttered to her reflection. Maybe if she said it often enough, she’d believe it.
*
The racers were ghostly shadows as they galloped around the training track in the damp fog of the early morning. The rhythmic pounding of hooves would grow louder and the shadows would materialize into horse and jockey as they approached the backstretch where Swain and Lillie leaned against the track’s railing.
The sun was barely up and the October breeze carried a chill. Lillie wrapped both hands around the travel mug and took a long sip.
Her alarm had gone off while it was still dark, and she had dressed with her eyes barely open before stumbling downstairs to climb into Swain’s truck at five thirty. Neither horse nor human should be up exercising at this ungodly hour, she’d complained. Swain only smiled and pressed the travel mug into her hands. She had been surprised to find it thoughtfully filled with Earl Grey tea rather than coffee.
A chestnut filly began to emerge from the dense fog, her jockey balanced in the characteristic half crouch. Lillie raised her camera and held down the shutter to shoot continuous frames. The young horse wore a headstall that held rubber half-cups over her eyes to limit her vision to the track directly ahead. She breezed by at a relaxed canter.
“That’s the horse,” Swain said, her eyes glued to the pair as they began another loop around the track.
“How do you know?” Dozens of horses were exercising on the long dirt oval.
“Tim said it was a chestnut and that Alex Steiner’s the trainer, and that jockey is one of Alex’s exercise riders.”
“You’re right. That’s one of mine.”
Swain turned to greet a tall woman who’d walked up behind them unseen. “Hey, Alex. How’s it going?”
“Can’t complain. I’ve got one or two that look promising this year. How about you?” Her face weathered by long hours in the sun, Alex was still a handsome woman with dark eyes and brown, shoulder-length hair. Her face, lined with character, begged to be photographed. Alex glanced over when Lillie squeezed off a few shots in her direction, then turned her attention to Swain. “I hear your team’s the one to beat for the cup this year. But I also hear you may not have a team come tournamen
t time.”
Swain shrugged nonchalantly. “Idle gossip by wishful thinkers.”
Alex nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe. But the scavengers are circling and, given the circumstances, I’m surprised to see you out here. I wouldn’t think you’d be looking at horses when the ponies you have might be sold out from under you.”
Lillie frowned. “I think that’s a bit premature,” she said sharply. “The Wetherington stable is not on the auction block.”
Swain quickly interceded. “Alex, this is Lillie Wetherington, Abigail’s granddaughter.”
When Alex looked back at Lillie, her eyes held a new respect. “My apologies, Ms. Wetherington. I’m only repeating the local gossip. The horse community is small, and more than a few here would love to get their hands on Swain’s ponies before word gets outside South Carolina and they have to compete against Florida money. She’s got quite a reputation as a trainer.”
“So I’m learning,” Lillie said, stiffly. “You’d do me a favor if you’d circulate word that it will be another four to six weeks before my grandmum’s will is read. We have no idea what her wishes are for the stables, so our stock is currently not for sale.” Lillie leveled a hard stare at Alex. “Neither is my head trainer available for hire.”
Alex glanced at Swain and grinned. “I’ll pass that along.”
At the sound of approaching hooves, they all turned back to the track. Alex stepped up to the railing and signaled her jockey. “Ease her into a gallop when you turn into the homestretch. Let her loose when you come round the turn into the backstretch,” she told him. The jockey nodded and moved the filly into the flow of horses.
Swain spoke as the filly disappeared around the first turn. “Actually, I’m looking at this one for myself.”
Alex clicked her stopwatch as her horse passed the halfway mark on the homestretch. “What makes you think I’ll let this one go? She’s fast. Very fast.”
As the filly rounded the turn leading into the backstretch, she galloped alongside a long-legged colt. The colt’s jockey glanced over at his challenger, then gave his horse full rein. The filly began to edge ahead, but the colt dug deep and regained the lost ground. Her ear flicked back in the colt’s direction. Her jockey was working the bit and tugging to the outside, but the filly ignored him and drifted inward, bumping shoulders with the colt. When he faltered, she surged ahead, cutting him off.
“Yeah, I can see that she’s going far as a flat racer.”
Alex swore under her breath. “Make me an offer.”
“I’ll take her off your hands for twelve hundred.”
Alex snorted. “She’s every bit as fast at Nor’easter. Once she’s made, she’ll be worth twenty times that much.”
“Takes at least three years to finish out a polo pony, plus I’ve got to feed her for at least another year before I even start. Her bones are too young for polo. How much longer do you want to feed and board a horse that’s likely to be disqualified every race?”
“Three thousand.”
“Do I need to mention the fines you’ll pay every time she bumps somebody? Eighteen hundred.”
“Two thousand and not a penny less.” Alex glanced at Lillie, than back to Swain. “And I’m going that low only because you’re using your own money.”
“Sold.” Swain and Alex shook hands. “I’ll have someone pick her up tomorrow.”
“Good enough.” Alex extended her hand to Lillie. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Wetherington.”
“Lillie, please.”
Alex nodded. “Lillie, then. My condolences on your grandmother. Abigail was a well-respected horsewoman.”
“Thank you. Grandmum loved her ponies. Whatever happens, I hope to do the best possible thing for Wetherington Stables.”
Alex nodded thoughtfully, then slapped Swain on the shoulder. “You owe me a beer when you win the Cup this year.”
Swain shrugged. “Might not win. The Whitneys may make an offer too sweet to pass up on Nor’easter before we ever get that far.”
Alex waved as she walked away. “My bet’s still on you.”
They turned back to the track and watched as the filly slowed, then the jockey walked her to cool down. When the pair exited the track, Swain turned to Lillie. “I need to catch that jock to have a few words with him,” she said.
“I’ll wait here and take a few more pictures.”
Swain jogged after the horse and rider, and Lillie turned her gaze back to the track.
A tall, dappled gray colt shook his head, nearly pulling his jockey out of the saddle in his eagerness to stretch his legs. She smiled at the colt’s antics as the jockey gave the young horse more rein. The colt’s ears pricked forward and his nostrils flared as he stretched into a graceful gallop. These horses truly were bred to run and they did so with enthusiasm.
She continued to follow the gray as he galloped past a man standing next to the railing. Something odd, something uncomfortable jerked Lillie’s attention back to him. The early morning fog had burned off, but the distance was too far to see his face clearly. She lifted the camera to peer through its telescopic lens. Fear gripped her, a tight vise around her heart. The ball cap pulled low on his forehead and a pair of aviator-style sunglasses concealed his hair and eyes. Even so, something too familiar about his shoulders, his stance sent chills down her spine.
He brought a set of small binoculars up to his eyes. Lots of people were watching through binoculars, but this man wasn’t following the horses. He appeared to be looking straight back at her. He lowered the binoculars, but didn’t move. He didn’t need to remove his sunglasses for her to know he was still staring at her. She could feel his gaze raking her skin and she shuddered, her panic rising.
“Ready?” Swain was back at her elbow. “Are you in a hurry to get home or could I interest you in having breakfast somewhere?”
With her heart pounding and near panic twisting her stomach, eating was the last thing on Lillie’s mind. Her panic began to recede, however, with the security of Swain’s steady presence. She drew a trembling breath and tried to sound casual. “You have plans for us?”
“Indeed, I do,” Swain replied, gallantly tucking Lillie’s hand in the crook of her arm. She flashed a charming smile and exaggerated her Southern accent. “I would be pleased, Miss Lillie, if you would let me be your escort today,” she said, guiding them toward her truck.
She glanced back to where the man stood. He was gone. She’d probably imagined him. She tightened her hold on Swain’s arm. “I’m at your disposal.”
*
Their first stop was the General Elliott Inn, a bed-and-breakfast. The wide wraparound porch was dotted with chairs that invited you to rock and watch the horses in the pastures across the road at the New Bridge Polo Club. Swain took Lillie’s hand and led her straight to the kitchen where Kate, one of the inn’s two owners, was preparing breakfast. Lillie recognized her as one of the visitors who came to the house following Abigail’s funeral. She was surprised to see several of the inn’s guests also seated in the kitchen, watching the preparations.
“Hey, stranger. This is a surprise.” Her hands busy with the food preparation, Kate presented her cheek to Swain for a kiss.
Swain obliged and pulled up a stool for Lillie to sit and watch. “Where’s Ward?”
“On the golf course. I’d rather him be there than underfoot.”
Kate smiled at Lillie. “Ms. Wetherington, welcome to my humble kitchen. Your grandmother would drop in from time to time and mooch breakfast. I hope you’re here to continue the tradition. Can I set an extra table for you two?”
Lillie looked to Swain, uncertain of their plans. When Swain nodded, Lillie smiled back at Kate. “That would be delightful. Thank you.”
“Swain, dear, do you mind? You know where everything is.”
“Okay to set up on the veranda?”
“Yes. It’s nice out and that’s where everyone wants to eat today.”
“Can I help?” Even though Lillie was surely safe i
n Kate’s kitchen, she felt anxious without Swain at her side.
“I’ve got it. You should stay here and watch Kate make crepes. It’s an art that she’s perfected.”
Kate chuckled. “Compliments won’t get you extra servings, Swain Butler.”
Swain grinned. “Worth a try.” She peered at Lillie and hesitated. “Are you all right? You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine,” Lillie said, offering a weak smile. “A bit of breakfast will be welcome, though.”
“You do look a little peaked, dear,” Kate said. “Sit. Let Swain set up and we’ll get you fed right away.” She handed two plates of food to the couple who had been watching, and they followed Swain outside.
“Those two are regular customers and the only guests here this morning, so we’re being a little informal.” Kate plunked a glass of orange juice in front of Lillie and began another set of crepes. “Drink that before you fall out of that chair.” She nodded in approval as Lillie obeyed. “Now, what brings you two to the neighborhood?”
“We were at the track early this morning to look at a horse, and Swain offered to show me around town. You’re our first stop. The house, what I saw of it coming in, is lovely.”
“Thanks. Though it’s a bed-and-breakfast, the downstairs mainly revolves around the restaurant. I do some catering and we host special events like private parties, wedding receptions, and the like. The dining room is only open to the public on Friday and Saturday nights.”
“So breakfast isn’t open dining? I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to impose.” She stood, intending to collect Swain and leave.
“Not at all. Abigail was always welcome, and you are, too. Any time at all. I’m not usually on my own, but my assistant got married and ran off to New York.” Kate frowned. “This is a bad time, too. I’ve got several big catering jobs coming up. It’s so hard to find good help.”
Lillie began to relax in the cheerful ambience of Kate’s kitchen as the conversation edged out thoughts of her watcher. For that, she was more than grateful.
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