He glanced from one woman to the other. “Perhaps tonight wouldn’t be the best time to start Amanda’s lessons.”
“Of course it would. What better way to learn than from several older people conversing.” Jaci’s gaze included all the occupants in the room, but lingered on Lycinda. She swept past him on the way to collect Amanda, leaving Lycinda open-mouthed and Thomas choking on his brandy.
“I never thought to see a cat fight at a horse breeder’s,” Thomas chuckled quietly behind Nicholas. When he turned to his friend, Thomas added softly. “I like a woman with spirit, and it appears Miss Eastman has quite a bit of it. I’m glad you kept her on as Amanda’s governess. It will give me an excuse to come out more often.” He lifted his glass in mock salute and Nicholas ground his teeth.
“Since when did you need an excuse to womanize, Thomas?” Nicholas questioned, hoping any sound of jealousy was covered in sarcasm. They had both done a fair share of skirt chasing in their younger years, until Nicholas had been jerked to an abrupt halt when his parents died and he inherited Wildwood.
He would have to warn Jaci about Thomas Stillwell, he thought. Only because she was his responsibility, he added to convince himself. He also knew full well he would eventually have to straighten out any mess caused by having Jaci in his house. From the sounds of Thomas’s obvious humor and the looks exchanged by the two women, at least it would make dinner entertaining. Anything was better than listening to Mason complain about having to foreclose on another farmer.
* * *
Nicholas confessed to a slight disappointment, for both Lycinda and Jaci decided to behave and the meal was relatively uneventful. At least from all outward appearances.
Amanda had politely introduced herself and followed all the proper etiquette; speaking when spoken to, using the proper utensil, and not talking with her mouth full. Nicholas was pleased that Jaci had requested the child’s presence, for Amanda glowed with happiness when Thomas asked her a question. At the moment, she was sharing her tale of Sir Lancelot and the kittens, to which Thomas laughed with encouragement.
Thomas seemed quite in his element entertaining all the ladies. It appeared his friend’s gaze lingered overlong on Jaci whenever he answered a question she posed about his medical practice. And Jaci seemed to be asking a lot of questions.
He scrutinized his friend. What was it about the fair haired doctor that women found appealing? Was Jaci attracted to Thomas, or was she merely being polite? He scowled.
Since no one needed his guidance as host to keep the conversation flowing, he blocked it out and focused on the two lovely women who graced his dinner table.
There was a wholesome quality to Jaci that made her skin glow and her eyes sparkle with mischief. Her lush curves, though, had been created by the devil himself, enough to send any man’s soul plummeting over the edge of control and desire. Her blonde hair was in direct contrast to Lycinda’s dark curls.
She argued with him and had very outspoken ideas about Amanda’s education; all of which did not lend themselves to being attributes of a fashionable young lady. She was anything but retiring, Nicholas thought, as Jaci laughed out loud at some remark Thomas made.
Yet every time she put her fork to her mouth, Nicholas swallowed convulsively, recalling the taste of her when they had kissed. Her dress, though demure, didn’t conceal enough of her to make him quit thinking about the scene in the barn, her breasts heaving with exertion, glistening with sweat.
How in the world was he supposed to forget that she existed?
He would have to spend more time outside the house, or she would have to keep to the nursery. Either solution would not get her out of his mind.
His gaze moved to Lycinda, who also hung avidly on Thomas’s every word, although she shot him a shy smile when she glanced up and caught him watching her. Her mother had raised her to be the ideal wife for a gentleman of his caliber. She was soft-spoken and retiring, and would never consider raising her voice to her husband.
Lycinda had competently run the Edwardson’s home since her mother died ten years before, and he knew she had all the skills necessary for a lady of the manor. He found her attractive enough; petite in stature with dark hair and eyes. Her coloring would combine with his own to make beautiful children. Nicholas ached for a family and children of his own. So why had he become hesitant to proclaim himself and finally ask for her hand in marriage? Why did his groin ache with the memory of a single kiss shared with Jaci, and yet he could conjure up no similar feelings at the thought of making love to Lycinda.
It makes no difference, he told himself. Marriages were made for business reasons every day, and his would be no different. He must marry soon for the sake of Westbrooke tradition, since it appeared Cameron would never remarry. He was comfortable with Lycinda, and they had been friends for a long time. It seemed a reasonable enough basis to begin a marriage.
That reasoning, however, didn’t eliminate the acute feeling of disappointment he experienced when Jaci excused herself and Amanda and told their guests good night. It took Thomas sliding his chair back to stand before Nicholas broke from his musings. He jerked upright as Jaci stood.
“Good night, Uncle Nicholas. Thank you so much for a lovely evening.” The five year old tried to sound grown up, but ruined the effect by grabbing his leg in a hug.
“If you will excuse me for a moment.” Nicholas nodded to his guests as he scooped her up and kissed her cheek. He walked out the door of the dining room and over to the stairs.
“Thank you for coming to dine, Miss Westbrooke. It would please me immensely if you would share your company with me more often.” He tried to remain solemn as he spoke to the now wiggling bundle in his arms.
Amanda giggled. “Oh, Uncle Nicholas, you sound funny.” She hugged his neck and gave him a wet kiss. As he set her down on the first step, she asked, “Doesn’t Miss Eastman look beautiful tonight?”
Nicholas turned to where Jaci had come up behind them. “Yes,” he softly answered, his gaze capturing Jaci’s. “Miss Eastman is by far the loveliest woman I know.”
Her cheeks glowed pink with embarrassment and her lips were pursed as she tried not to smile, but the sparkle of her eyes gave her away. God, he wanted to kiss her.
“Nicholas, what do you say to a table of whist?” Thomas popped his head out the door to interrupt the moment.
Nicholas considered asking Jaci to join them, but knew it would not appear at all proper. Still, he hesitated before answering, trying to convey his feelings to her without speaking. She dropped her own gaze to the floor before he could read her intent.
“Yes, I’ll be right there. Tell Selkirk we’ll retire to the parlor for coffee. I believe he has a fire going.” He gave Amanda one more kiss before he turned away. As he walked toward the parlor, the soft rustle of Jaci’s dress and petticoats mixed with Amanda’s chatter.
* * *
Jaci rushed up the stairs with Amanda, thinking she would die from heat stroke if she didn’t get away from Nicholas. For a brief moment at the foot of the stairs, his look of seduction had seared her, and she had held her breath in dread — or anticipation?
When she thought back on the entire evening, she had been aware of his constant scrutiny, and although she had tried to ignore it, she had found herself glancing his way more and more as the meal progressed. His dark, almost brooding, gaze had shocked her with its intensity, making her recall the times when they had crossed the boundaries of employer-employee.
Only that morning, when she had exercised in the barn, she had become fully aware of his desire for her, and her body had reacted similarly. Regardless of what he had said about her not being a lady, his gaze told her that he wanted her.
The scary part about it — she wouldn’t have stopped his advances. From what she read in his dark gaze, she had no doubt she would have gotten much more than she anticipated.
Amanda chatted gaily while Jaci readied her for bed, but she paid scant attention to the child’s words unti
l Lycinda Edwardson’s name came up. From the very beginning, she had felt a stab of jealousy at her appearance in Nicholas’s home. The gorgeous woman was tiny and dark-haired, and she reminded Jaci of a Barbie doll.
Jaci tucked a sleepy Amanda into bed, kissed her good night, and quietly closed her door. She kept reliving the meal, where the lovely Lycinda had eaten daintily, spoken only when spoken to, and smiled oh, so sweetly.
Damn, she swore silently, pulling her skirts up to keep from tripping as she stormed down the hall. She’d never get used to walking in these long dresses; would never begin to understand the customs that ruled the way nineteenth century women behaved and thought. Miss Edwardson, however, had no such problem and stood ready and able to do all that and more as Nicholas’s bride. Jaci had seen how the woman gazed all sappy-eyed at him.
“Augh,” she sputtered out loud, jerking the pins out of her hair as she stomped to her own room. “What did you expect?” she asked her mirror reflection. “You don’t belong here, no matter who thought it a great joke to put you here. So you might as well face facts. Nicholas will marry Lycinda and she will live at Wildwood, no doubt tossing you out on your butt.”
At the thought of leaving Wildwood, Jaci dropped to the vanity seat in tears. She had come to care for the residents of Wildwood. She had even learned how to relax and enjoy the slower pace of this century compared to the hectic life she had lived. It still amazed her sometimes that if something wasn’t accomplished right on time, it was shrugged off and done later. After all, there are only so many hours in the day, Mrs. Jeffrey had recently said. And while Jaci had told herself that throughout her life, she had never been able to live by the credo. There had always been something that needed done.
As she struggled out of her dress and into her nightgown, she admitted that all her reasons for not wanting to leave Wildwood didn’t have to do with the pace of living nor the staff. Amanda had become very dear to her; as had the child’s uncle.
She used tongs to take several glowing coals from the fire and drop them into the long handled warming pan. She carefully walked the hot pan over to the bed and swept it back and forth over the sheets and coverlet to take away the chill.
She recalled how she had shivered each night when she climbed into bed before finally asking Molly for an electric blanket. That had certainly raised some questions. After a faltering explanation and some quickly conceived fantasy about the term because she had lived in the south, Molly told Jaci for the second time she was living in the wrong century. Of course, there wasn’t any argument in that statement.
Recalling the story soothed her fears and as she snuggled beneath the mound of covers, she gave a sigh of resignation. There wasn’t a whole lot she could do about the future — Lycinda’s, or her own. The most she could hope for was that Nicholas would allow her to stay at Wildwood with Amanda after he married. She knew no other place in this world; no other way to sustain herself.
She drifted off to sleep, warmed by the fire. In her dreams, Nicholas did ask her to stay at Wildwood, but when she tried to recall the dream the next morning, it quickly dissipated. Had he wanted her as Amanda’s governess, or in a totally different capacity? Her stomach lurched as all the possibilities crossed her mind, but at least for the time being, it gave her a feeling of belonging. She rose to greet the new day with more confidence.
* * *
Confidence which lasted only until breakfast, where Nicholas informed her, in no uncertain terms, that she would learn to ride a horse.
“I told you I didn’t ride, and personally I don’t care to learn.” She stubbornly set her chin and drank her coffee.
“I can’t believe you never learned to ride a horse. Everyone, man or woman, must know how to ride to survive.”
“Not if you drove a Corsica,” she mumbled under her breath.
“What did you say?”
She ducked her head, thinking fast. “I said I rode in a carriage.”
“That’s all fine and good, but it won’t do. Everyone at Wildwood rides,” he stated firmly. She turned to argue the point, but he continued. “Part of Amanda’s education is learning to ride. As I believe we have already established, Miss Eastman, where Amanda goes, so goes her governess.”
She scowled at him, but he went blithely on. “As long as you must be with her, you might as well ride. Besides, her instructor is quite capable of handling two pupils at once.”
“And just who is Amanda’s riding instructor?”
“Why, Uncle Nicholas, of course.” Amanda clomped into the room, already dressed to ride. “No one can ride as best as him.”
“As well as he,” Jaci corrected automatically.
“Thank you. I’m glad you agree.” Nicholas grinned at her remarks, knowing full well what she had intended. “Now Amanda, if you will take your governess up and get her clothes changed, I shall meet you both at the arena in fifteen minutes.” He left no room to argue, turning on his heel and leaving Jaci with her mouth open.
Flabbergasted, she allowed Amanda to lead her upstairs, but when she chose a long dress with all the accompanying petticoats, Jaci drew the line.
“No, I think this will suffice.” At the time Mrs. Sullivan made her clothes, no thought had been given to a riding habit. For now, she drew on a dark, chocolate colored dress with only one petticoat beneath, all the while thinking there was entirely too much material to allow her to climb on a horse. She knew her jeans, carefully hidden in the bottom of the armoire, would be more comfortable, but totally inappropriate for this venture.
With a sigh and some trepidation, she and Amanda walked to the arena. She dreaded getting up on some huge beast over which she had no control. All at once, an image streaked across her mind of the carousel horses — so well carved as to look real. Perhaps this was a test. She hadn’t thought of it before, but maybe she needed a real horse to take her back in time, instead of a wooden one. That put an entirely different light on the activity, and Jaci’s footsteps picked up considerably.
A nerve rattling hour later, Jaci didn’t think she had the patience to stay atop this animal long enough to find out if it could return her to Dallas. The groom had helped her mount before disappearing, and Nicholas seemed more intent on instructing Amanda. He assumed she would follow along, but words like posting and collect the horse didn’t mean anything to her.
In addition, the groom had given her a broken saddle. She had swung her leg over the saddle and finally straightened her skirts about her, only to find there wasn’t a loop of any kind on the right side for her foot.
Nicholas finally decided she deserved some attention, and walked his magnificent black horse, Wind Dancer, over to her side. “Miss Eastman, you seem ill at ease.”
“You might say that. I told you I didn’t ride,” She ground out the words as she gripped the horn at the front of the saddle and clutched the reins.
“It might help if you relaxed.”
“Tell that to the horse. If it wouldn’t keep fidgeting and bouncing around, maybe I could.” As though the animal knew her thoughts, he sidestepped and pranced, bouncing against Nicholas’s horse.
“Whoa, Sabet, whoa now,” Nicholas spoke softly to the horse, reaching over to take the reins. Jaci quickly let go, glad to be done with it, but he wasn’t done with her.
“No, you don’t.” Before she realized his intent, he swung a leg over his own horse and hopped on behind her. The horse fidgeted and snorted, but the minute Nicholas spoke again, it came to a complete and utter stop. Jaci still didn’t release the horn.
“The horse can tell if you’re afraid, so the first thing you must do is relax.” His breath whispered against her ear, and she wondered how she could possibly relax with him that close to her. His arms came around her to handle the reins, one forearm brushing lightly against her breast.
“Then, you must—” he paused, his legs sliding forward slightly to bump her own. “Are you riding astride?” As though in disbelief, his right hand slid down her dress, squee
zing and probing her leg.
She had thought there enough material in the dress to insulate every part of her body, but when his hand touched her, she felt the heat from his fingers. She jerked her leg, accidentally kicking the horse and again it jumped sideways. Nicholas immediately clutched her waist to keep her steady, and that was worse than his hand on her leg.
She stiffened an already straight spine, which brought her back in contact with his chest. She groaned; he chuckled in her ear.
“Miss Eastman, would you please relax and sit still for a moment?”
She gave a negative shake of her head. His nearness had her so unnerved she couldn’t breathe, much less answer.
He chuckled again. “As lovely as I find you, and as much as I would love to kiss these delicate pink ears of yours, the back of a horse isn’t exactly my choice for a rendezvous.” Even as he said one thing, he did the exact opposite, his tongue flicking out to tickle the back lobe of her ear.
She groaned. In an involuntary movement, she wiggled her bottom back in the saddle. Her action brought her up tight against him and he reacted instinctively by scooting back. The horse apparently didn’t like what either passenger was doing, and pranced forward. That left no horse beneath Nicholas and he tumbled off the back, fortunately letting go of Jaci when he did so.
“Oh, no.” Still clutching the pommel, she swiveled this way and that, trying to see behind her to where he had fallen. The horse complied with her efforts and turned around, dropping his head to nuzzle Nicholas, who sat in the dirt.
Jaci tried to swing a leg over the saddle, wanting to get down and help him, but he held up a hand to stop her.
“Don’t even attempt to dismount, Miss Eastman,” he said with some chagrin. “You and your damned skirts would no doubt cause poor Sabet to bolt and run right straight over me.”
She cringed. She liked it much better when he called her Jaci.
Spinning Through Time Page 9
