Fairy Tale Weddings (15 page)

“I believe it's to eat lunch. Please sit down, Ms. Lovin. I, for one, am hungry, and our meal will be served as soon as you're comfortable.”

The butler held out a mahogany chair at the end of the table, where she'd eaten the night before. With rebellion boiling in her blood, Judy sat on the brocade cushion.

A bowl of consommé was set in front of her. When Judy lifted her spoon, she discovered that her hand was trembling and she tightened her grip.

“How long do you plan to keep me here?” she asked.
Six place settings separated them; the distance could've been far greater for all the notice McFarland gave her.

“You'll be free to go shortly,” he announced between courses, having waited a full five minutes before responding.

“I can leave?” she said in astonishment. “When?”

“Soon.” He gauged her expression grimly. “Are you so miserable?”

“No,” she admitted, smoothing the linen napkin across her lap. “The island is lovely.”

“Good.” His eyes grew gentle.

“Whose decision was it for you to come?” he asked unexpectedly.

“Mine.”

He nodded and seemed to approve. “I imagine that your father and brother were opposed to your willingness to sacrifice yourself.” He said this with more than a hint of sarcasm.

“Adamantly. I probably never would've been told of your…ultimatum, but I accidentally overheard them discussing it.”

“You were wise to come.”

“How's that?”

“I wouldn't have hesitated to call in the loan.”

“I don't doubt that for a second,” she said, disliking him. Her fingers gripped the napkin in her lap, but that was the only outward sign of anger that she allowed herself.

His grin lacked humor. “If you'd refused, you would've been burdened with a terrible guilt. In time, your peace and happiness would have been affected.”

The butler took away her untouched salad and served the main course. Judy stared down at the thin slices of roast
beef, smothered in gravy and mushrooms, and knew she wouldn't be able to eat.

“Have you always been this dictatorial?” Judy demanded.

“Always.” He carefully sliced his meat.

She thought of the class of four-year-olds she'd left behind. “You must have been a difficult child.” His teen years didn't bear contemplating.

Slowly, deliberately, McFarland lowered his knife and fork to the table. His eyes were sad. “I was never a child.”

 

Princess was saddled and ready for her early the following morning. Judy patted the horse's nose and produced a carrot from the hip pocket of her jeans.

“At great personal danger, I sneaked into the kitchen and got you this,” she whispered, running her hand down the mare's brown face. “Now, don't you dare tell Sam, or he'll be mad at me.” Judy had quickly realized that Sam ruled the stables like his own castle and she could well be stepping on the older man's toes.

“Do you have something for me, as well?” The deep male voice spoke from behind her.

Judy whirled around to see McFarland. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I hope you don't mind…” She eyed the rapidly disappearing carrot.

He was dressed in black this morning, his expression brooding. Once again his hat brim shadowed his face. His mood seemed as dark and dangerous as his clothes. “You needn't worry about stealing vegetables.”

Without another word, he mounted his horse with supple ease. He hesitated long enough to reach for the reins and sent Judy a look that said she was welcome to join him or go her own way.

Quickly, Judy placed her foot in the stirrup and swung onto Princess's back, grabbed the reins and cantered after him.

McFarland rode at an unrelenting gallop, leading her into the jungle. The footpath was narrow and steep. Birds cawed angrily and flew out of their way, their wings beating against the underbrush. Leaves and branches slapped at Judy's face; mud spattered her boots and jeans. Still he didn't lessen his furious pace. It took all of Judy's skill just to keep up with him. She barely managed. By the time he slowed, she was winded and her muscles ached. He directed Midnight onto the beach and Judy followed gratefully, allowing Princess to trot along the sandy shoreline.

Judy stared at him. Panting, she was too breathless to speak coherently. “Good—grief, McFarland—do you always tear—through the jungle like that?”

“No.” He didn't look at her. “I wanted to see how well you ride.”

“And?”

“Admirably well.” He grinned, and his eyes sparkled with humor. Judy found herself involuntarily returning his smile.

“Next time,” she said between gasps, “
I
choose the route.” Dark mud dotted her clothes and face. Her hair fell in wet tendrils around her cheeks and she felt as though they'd galloped through a swamp.

He, on the other hand, had hardly splattered his shiny boots.

“Tell me about Judy Lovin,” he demanded unexpectedly as they trotted side by side.

“On one condition. I want you to answer something for me.”

“One question?”

“Only one,” she promised, raising her right hand as though swearing an oath.

“All right.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Details.”

She nodded curtly. “I weighed just under seven pounds when I was born—”

“Perhaps current information would be more appropriate,” he cut in.

Judy threw back her head and laughed. “Fine. I'm twenty-six—”

“That old?”

She glowered at him. “How am I supposed to tell you anything if you keep interrupting?”

“Go on.”

“Thank you,” she muttered sarcastically. “Let me see—I suppose you want the vitals. I'm five-five, which is short, I know, and I weigh about…No.” She shook her head. “I don't think that's information a woman should share with a man.”

He chuckled and Judy drew back on the reins, surprised at the deep rich sound. She suspected he didn't often give in to the urge.

He sent her an odd, half-accusing look. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” she responded, feeling self-conscious. He really should laugh more often, she thought. He looked young and carefree and less—she couldn't find the word—
driven
, she decided.

“What about men?”

“Men?”

“As in beaux, boyfriends, dates, male companionship—that kind of thing.”

“I date frequently.” Although that was a slight misrepresentation of the truth…

“Anyone special?”

“No—unless you consider Bobby. He's four and could steal my heart with a pout.” She stopped Princess, swung her leg over the horse's back and slowly lowered her feet to the ground.

McFarland dismounted, as well.

“My turn.”

He shrugged. “Fire away.”

“May I call you by your name?” She found it ridiculous that a man would be called simply McFarland.

“My name? You mean my first name?”

“Yes.”

He hesitated long enough for her to become uneasy. Then he nodded.

“Thank you.” She dropped her gaze to her mud-coated boots. “John,” she whispered.

“Well?” he prompted. “Do you think it suits me?”

“It does,” she told him.

“I'm glad to hear it,” he said, and she wasn't sure whether he was mocking her. Then she decided it didn't matter if he was.

“You really aren't a beast, are you?” she murmured.

He frowned at that and brushed a wet strand of hair from her cheek. His fingers trailed across her face, causing her stomach to lurch at the unexpected contact.

“But you, my dear, are a Beauty.”

Judy went cold. “How did you know my father called me that?”

“I know everything about you. Right down to that wimp you thought you were in love with a couple of years back. What was his name again? Richard. Yes, Richard. I'm also aware that you've rarely dated since—disillusionment, I suppose.”

Judy felt the blood drain from her face.

“I know you fancy yourself a savior to that group of four-year-olds. How noble of you to squander yourself on their behalf, but I doubt they appreciate it.” His blue eyes were as cold as glacial ice.

Judy thought she might be sick.

He waited, his expression filled with grim amusement. “What, no comment?”

“None.” She threw the reins over Princess's head. “Thank you for the ride, John. It was quite exhilarating.” Her chin held at a proud angle, she mounted and silently rode away, her back rigid.

McFarland watched her go and slammed his boot viciously against the sand. He didn't know what had made him speak to her like that. He'd known from the moment he'd seen her picture that she was like no other woman he'd ever encountered. Another woman would have thrown angry words at him for the unprovoked attack. Judy hadn't. She'd revealed courage and grace, a rare combination. McFarland didn't think he'd seen the two qualities exemplified so beautifully in any one woman. Most were interested in his wealth and power.

He didn't like the feelings Judy Lovin aroused in him. Studying her picture was one thing, but being close to her, feeling the energy she exuded, watching her overcome her natural reserve, had all greatly affected him.

Judy was good—too good for him. As other people
said, he chewed up little girls like her and spit them out. He didn't want to see that happen to Judy.

What an odd position to be in, he mused darkly. He had to protect her from himself.

P
rincess's hind feet kicked up sand as Judy trotted her along the beach. Her thoughts were in turmoil. What a strange, complex man John McFarland was. His eyes had been gentle and kind, almost laughing, when he'd asked her to tell him about herself, and yet he'd obviously known everything there was to know. Her cheeks burned with humiliation that he'd discovered what a fool she'd made of herself over Richard. She'd been so trusting, so guileless with her affection and her heart—so agonizingly stupid to have fallen in love with a married man. The pain of Richard's deception no longer hurt Judy, but her own flagrant stupidity continued to embarrass her.

Judy was so caught up in her memories that she didn't notice the children at first. Their laughter drifted on the cool morning air and she drew in her reins. As always, the mare responded instantly to Judy's signal.

“Princess, look,” she said excitedly. “Children.” They were playing a game of hide-and-seek, darting in and out of the jungle and rushing to the water's edge. Judy counted
seven children between the ages of eight and twelve, from what she could guess.

They didn't seem to notice her, which was just as well since she didn't want to disturb their game. The smallest, a boy, had apparently been chosen as “it” and the others scattered, smothering their laughter as they ran across the sand.

Judy swung out of the saddle.

Her action must have drawn their attention because the laughter stopped abruptly. She turned around to find all the youngsters running to hide. Only the one small boy remained.

Judy smiled. “Good morning,” she said cautiously, trying not to frighten him.

He was silent, his deep brown eyes serious and intense.

Digging in the pocket of her jodhpurs, Judy pulled out two sugar cubes. The first she fed to Princess. The second she held out to the boy.

He eyed it for a long time before stepping forward and grabbing it from her hand. Quickly, he jumped away from her. Holding it in his own palm, he carefully approached the horse. When Princess lowered her sleek head and ate the cube from his hand, he looked up and grinned broadly at Judy.

“She's very gentle,” Judy said softly. “Would you like to sit in the saddle?”

He nodded enthusiastically and Judy helped him mount.

Astride Princess, the boy placed both hands on the saddle and sat up straight, as though he were a king surveying his kingdom. Gradually, the other children came out from their hiding places among the trees.

“Good morning,” Judy greeted each one. “My name is Judy.”

“Peter.”

“Jimmy.”

“Philippe.”

“Elizabeth.”

“Margaret.”

They all rushed toward her, eager to be her friend and perhaps get the chance to sit on her beautiful horse.

Judy threw up her hands and laughed. “One at a time, or I'll never be able to remember.” She laid her hand on the slim shoulder of one of the younger girls. “I'm pleased to make your acquaintance.” She was rewarded with a toothless smile.

From a ridge high above the beach, McFarland looked down on the scene below, a silent witness to Judy's considerable charm. She was a natural with children, and although he shouldn't be surprised at the way they gravitated toward her, he was. More often than he could count, he'd come upon the island children playing in the surf or along the beach. Usually he saw little more than a fleeting glimpse of one or two running away as though they were afraid of him.

Until he'd watched Judy enchant these children, McFarland hadn't given a second thought to the few families who made this island their home. He allowed them to remain on St. Steven's, not for any humanitarian reason, but simply because his feeling toward them was one of indifference. They could stay or leave as they wished.

Unfortunately, he couldn't say the same about Judy Lovin. The sound of her laughter swirled around him. As he watched her now with these children, an unwilling smile touched his mouth. He, too, was a victim of the enchantment she'd brought to his island.

And he didn't like it, not one damn bit.

Pulling back sharply on Midnight's reins, McFarland
turned the horse and rode toward the other side of the island as if the fires of hell were licking at their heels.

 

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, goose bumps 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 gauging her responses by 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 pin-striped 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?”

“Yes, they call you the Dark Prince.”

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.”