The Whisper Of Wings (13 page)

Her spirits plummeted when she remembered how she was deceiving everyone. They all still believed she had amnesia.

Gerald seemed to sense her change in mood, and he was quick to come to the rescue, promising to take her riding as soon as possible. She couldn't help but smile. She would love to go riding. She was only sorry that it would have to wait for another day.

On their way out of the stable, Gerald paused to introduce her to the stable master, a tall, affable man named Leo. Leo was thin almost to the point of being gaunt. Though his appearance was a little daunting at first, Michaela soon discovered what an interesting individual he was. He seemed a kind enough man, a bit on the shy side, with friendly blue eyes and a sharp wit that instantly endeared him to Michaela. He seemed more than delighted to make her acquaintance, and he promised that he had the perfect steed for her whenever she chose to ride. Michaela was pleased to have a new friend. Everyone in Christopher Standeven's employ seemed so nice. It was encouraging.

By the time they finished the tour, Michaela barely had time to prepare for dinner. As she changed her dress and combed her hair, Mrs. Avery's words came back to her.
"I think you are good for him."
A warm sensation spread through her chest. Could she really be good for someone? Anyone?

It was a nice sentiment, even if it might not be true.

Downstairs, Michaela was surprised when Mrs. Avery met her in the hall. She had expected Mrs. Avery in the dining room, but the older woman quickly disabused her of the notion.

"I just wanted to warn you." The housekeeper gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I won't be joining the family for dinner."

Michaela was dismayed. She had come to expect Mrs. Avery's presence at the table, even need it a bit. The housekeeper was the one person she was completely comfortable with. She was her anchor. Without Mrs. Avery, she wasn't certain she could face the imposing Mr. Standeven.

Detecting Michaela's uncertainty, Mrs. Avery was quick to reassure her. "Don't fret, dearie. You'll do just fine without me."

"But...." Michaela shook her head, bewildered by the sudden change in protocol. "Why?"

"Well, after all, Mr. Standeven is an Englishman. It's practically unheard of to allow the hired help to join the family for dinner, no matter the occasion. The only reason I joined the family in New Orleans was because he thought it might put you at ease. And he was right. Absolutely right."

"But I thought—"

"Now, now. Don't concern yourself with it for one minute. There are stations in life. I'm quite happy serving Mr. Standeven. He's a good man, a generous man, and I'm fortunate to be in his employ."

When Michaela still hesitated, the housekeeper gave her a little push in the direction of the dining room. "Go on. You'll do just fine. I have every confidence in you."

Michaela wished she could be so sure.

Christopher was already seated at the head of the table when Michaela stepped into the room. He instantly rose, as did Gerald, in deference to a lady, his eyes watching her every move as she tentatively took a step toward the table. Poor girl. She looked like she was entering a lion's den. Apparently, she realized that Mrs. Avery would not be dining with them, and was understandably nervous. But she would have to get accustomed to it. Perhaps it would even be good for her. It might bring her out of her shell a bit.

Christopher stared at her as she came further into the room. Though her attire was simple, she looked lovely in the blue dress she had chosen. Perhaps a bit too lovely. Once again, the fleeting notion crossed his mind that he had been a fool to undertake such an enormous responsibility. Michaela's presence here was...unsettling. And he hadn't yet found a way to deal with that.

"I'm sorry to have kept you," Michaela murmured through a mouth that was impossibly dry.

"No bother," Christopher replied. "Shall we?"

Michaela's heart beat a little faster when he stepped around to hold her chair for her, but she managed to find her way into the seat. She was grateful for its solid support. She seemed to need it.

Once again, Christopher had chosen to seat her immediately to his left. She was surprised that he seemed to want her so near him. She glanced at Gerald, who sat directly opposite her. Perhaps she was reading too much into the seating arrangements. After all, it was a very long table, with only the three of them to share it. Perhaps that was the only reason for her favored seat. She wasn't exactly competing with guests.

Noticing her silent perusal, Gerald gave her a quirky smile and, before anyone else had the opportunity, began his meal.

"My son is rather Americanized. A bit unfortunately, I must say," Christopher said.

Michaela surmised that it was his way of apologizing for Gerald's vulgar attack of his food. She was pleased that Gerald wasn't quite as stoic as his father. It put her more at ease. It kept a healthy sort of balance between the two.

Since the comment didn't warrant an answer, Michaela lowered her eyes and shyly began her own meal.

"Indulge, Father. It's the least we can do in this all too brief life we're given," Gerald pronounced.

"Is it?" Christopher said.

"It is indeed."

"Hm. Just last month I was given to understand that the pursuit of laziness was the ultimate luxury."

Michaela almost choked on her food. She could swear she heard a hint of humor in Mr. Standeven's voice. A glance confirmed it. He was actually ribbing his son, something she'd never noticed him doing before. He must be in good spirits this evening. Perhaps he had missed his home and was glad to be back. She could easily understand why. After all, his home was exquisite, and certainly he cherished the familiarity. She'd always heard that a man was happiest where he rested.

She glanced at Gerald. He was smiling at his father, taking the teasing in stride. The atmosphere was contagious, and Michaela was soon smiling, as well. They all seemed to be much more relaxed and happy here in Virginia.

"Whatever suits the mood," Gerald replied, laughing a little as he reached for his glass of wine.

When Christopher turned his penetrating gaze on Michaela, she felt a rush of heat flood her face. She liked his attention, yet there was something altogether mortifying about it. It did things to her senses that nothing else had ever quite come close to. In a moment of frightening clarity, she realized how much this man meant to her, and the rush of fear that accompanied this revelation overwhelmed her.

"Did you enjoy your tour? It's Gerald's specialty."

For lack of a voice, she found herself nodding, then managed a hastily croaked, "Yes, I enjoyed it immensely." She was mortified at the feeble sound her own throat had made. Goodness, did she have no control over anything anymore?

Christopher was still smiling. Somehow, she was able to see that much through the sudden haze that surrounded him. By now, her body had begun to respond to the import of her revelation. She was attracted to Mr. Standeven, powerfully, irrevocably, and as the realization hit her, something odd began to happen. Her ears began to buzz most unpleasantly, and every sound that came to them was muted, almost as in a dream. The lights seemed especially bright, she had difficulty focusing her eyes, and a haze surrounded everything. Her mouth was dry, her heart was pounding dreadfully hard, and she could swear her palms were moist. What on earth was happening to her?

"I understand you visited the stables. We have quite a selection. Fascinating creatures, aren't they? I'm absolutely taken with the sport."

She heard him speaking, but she couldn't seem to respond in any way. She was still trying to get hold of her senses.

"I believe Michaela is a woman after your own heart, Father," Gerald said. "I dare say, I wasn't at all certain I would be able to drag her away from the horses."

She glanced at Gerald, her eyes clinging to him like a drowning woman clings to a raft. Desperately needing something to focus on, she hung on his every word. If only she could hear them. Nothing seemed to be registering. And then, blessedly, the buzz in her ears slowly began to subside, the haze began to fade, and everything returned to normal again.

"That's wonderful. Perhaps I can convince her to ride on occasion," Christopher murmured.

"I should think that will be no problem, isn't that right, Michaela?"

She came back to reality with an electrifying jolt, appalled that anyone was addressing her. She wasn't yet certain she could speak. Her vocal chords seemed knotted and tense.

"Y-yes. Of course."

She didn't even know what she was agreeing to. Had she answered correctly? Gerald seemed to think so because he smiled and continued talking to his father.

"See there, Father. It's as good as sealed. I swear the delight on her face was something worth seeing. I don't think she knew which horse to pat first, and she went from one to the other of them until every snout had felt her golden touch. It was downright rewarding to watch."

For the rest of the meal, Michaela never allowed her eyes to wander from Gerald's face again. She remained riveted on his every word, though she scarcely heard anything he said. She didn't dare look away, or glance at Christopher again, lest that frightening sensation start all over again. If he were to see, to understand what it meant....

She couldn't bear the thought. She mustn't ever let it happen again. She was here only out of his kindness and generosity, and she would do well to keep that in perspective.

Christopher was equally as captivated by Michaela. He watched her every move, the way she cut her meat into tiny bites, the way she lifted her fork to her mouth, the way she chewed so delicately. He watched every inclination of her head, every smile, the glimmer of light in her eyes. He listened to every nuance of her voice, the slight bell-like sound of her laughter, the slant of her conversation. It was all directed at his son. And as the dinner progressed and his son waxed eloquent, he slowly began to withdraw. It was plain to see that Gerald was mesmerized by their guest, beyond any measure he'd ever noticed in his son before, and she seemed just as taken with Gerald. It was becoming more and more clear to him that he must retreat. He must keep it all in perspective, carefully guard himself. It was for the good of everyone involved.

Those notions Michaela stirred in him were silly anyway.

He frowned. Yes. For the good of all, he would restrain himself in future. He mustn't let his feelings for Michaela interfere with his son's happiness, for he was almost certain now that Gerald was falling in love with the girl, and she with him.

CHAPTER NINE

Michaela awoke feeling tense and restless. It had been a difficult night for her. Despite her relief at being so far away from Louisiana, she had again suffered a nightmare, the same one that had haunted her nearly every night since she had come to be with the Standevens. Her mind kept replaying the incident in the alley, taking her through the terror and pain all over again. It was becoming tiresome, and she didn't know how to deal with it. Yet, much as she might need to, she didn't dare speak to anyone about it. She simply couldn't. It was too hideous to put into words. The event had left her shamed and empty, and she couldn't bear the thought of anyone realizing what had really happened in that alley. No woman should have to go through that. Ever.

Though she had initially been eager about Gerald's promise to take her horseback riding that morning, the night had stolen some of her enthusiasm. She would much rather stay hidden in her room all day, wrapped in the comforting quilt, far away from curious eyes. She barely managed to force herself out of bed, and it was with a heavy heart that she dressed. Gerald was expecting her, and she mustn't let him down.

She almost laughed at the sentiment. She had already let him down. She had let them all down, and they didn't even know it. They trusted her, believed her when she told them she couldn't remember anything. They had no idea how she had lied because she was too frightened of being sent back home, of having to face her family and that wretched ultimatum they had handed down to her.

She sighed. If only she had known then how understanding the Standevens were. Perhaps she would have told them the truth from the very beginning. They might have let her stay, anyway. Maybe she could have even begged Mr. Standeven for a job. She would have accepted the lowliest position he had to offer as long as she didn't have to go back.

There was no use thinking about it now. It was too late. The web had already been woven, and she didn't know how to delicately extract herself from it. Not without hurting people, upsetting everyone she now held dear. Gerald, Mrs. Avery, even Mr. Standeven.

Downstairs, she automatically followed the ringing of the telephone to Mr. Standeven's office and rather habitually answered it for him. She didn't realize that he too had been on his way to answer it until he entered the room, and by then she was already in the process of picking up. His sudden presence startled her, and she wondered if she had done the wrong thing by coming into his office. Perhaps he hadn't meant for her to continue the duty now that they were here in Virginia.

She asked the caller to wait a moment and then, her gaze fixed awkwardly on the floor, addressed Mr. Standeven. "Was I not supposed to answer the telephone here? I wasn't sure."

Her voice was a whisper of uncertainty, and she barely managed to find the courage to lift her gaze for the answer.

Christopher shook his head, his brows pressed together as he contemplated her. She so easily slipped back into that protective shell of hers, so easily grew fearful. If only she would trust him, trust that he meant her no harm, that he would never be angry with her for something she did unwittingly. He wanted her to trust that he would take care of her.

"Of course not. I expected you to continue in your task once you were settled here."

Relieved that she hadn't done anything wrong, she expelled the breath she'd been holding. She was on the verge of thanking him for not being angry with her but then realized how ridiculous that would sound. Instead, she handed him the phone.

Christopher's gaze took in everything, every detail, as he watched the play of emotions cross her expressive face. Would to God he could reach out and touch her at that moment, reassure her. But he couldn't. He mustn't. No matter how strong the desire.

"It's Mr. Telford calling," she murmured.

He just stood there staring at her for a moment. His brows were still pressed together in what might have been a frown, but not necessarily one of ire. Perhaps it was concern.

Christopher's fingers accidentally brushed hers when he reached for the receiver, causing him to recoil. Not from displeasure, but rather to avoid the inexplicable shock her touch delivered to his senses. But he wasn't quick enough, and he felt it all the same. He mentally tried to explain it away as nothing more than any man might feel for any attractive woman, but he knew better. There'd been no shortage of attractive women in his life, but none of them had ever had such a dramatic effect on him. Not since Marie had died.

Michaela withered a little under his penetrating stare, felt herself retreating inside herself. The way he pulled his hand away when they accidentally touched...it made her feel so unwanted, rather abandoned. It was an awful feeling, and only added to the inner conflict she'd been harboring all morning.

"You're dressed for the stables. Are you going riding this morning?"

His voice was as warm and gentle as ever. The voice he always used when he spoke to her. Strangely, it belied the way he had withdrawn from her touch. Perhaps she had read something into his reaction that didn't belong there. Maybe he was simply anxious to take the call.

"Yes," she answered. "With Gerald. He promised to show me the property."

For a moment, she thought he might be a bit unhappy about the fact because he just stood there staring down at her, his mouth pressed into a hard line, his jet-black brows pulled into a deeper frown, a different sort of frown now. It was one of the few times she'd ever seen anything other than complete impassivity on his face, and she suddenly wished she weren't going riding with Gerald, if it would only make Mr. Standeven smile at her again.

His expression soon changed again, back to that solemn facade he seemed always to wear, except in those rare occasions when he was smiling. She must have been mistaken about the reason for his frown. Surely, he wouldn't begrudge her a ride with his son.

"Enjoy yourself," he finally said, then very deliberately turned his back on her and lifted the receiver to his ear.

She took it for what it was, a clear dismissal, and left him to his privacy. But she couldn't help feeling a strange tug of loneliness. She would much rather he smile and tease her the way he had come to do on occasion. She had grown accustomed to his careful reassurances, to the way he so earnestly saw to her well-being, the way he would take her hand and impress upon her that she need not fear anything ever again as long as she was residing in his home.

She sighed. Every day that she was with him and the family was both happy and sad. Happy because she was no longer under her father's roof. Happy because she had come to care for the family. Yet, sad because every day grew a little more complicated, and sad because every day brought her closer to her inevitable departure.

Outside, Gerald joined her on the path to the stables. "I expected you at breakfast," he said, falling into stride beside her.

"I wasn't feeling all that hungry."

"Are you well?"

"Quite well, thank you. I...simply didn't feel like eating." She offered a smile to reassure him. "I suppose it's the excitement of being around horses again."

She could have bitten her tongue.
Again.
How could she have said that one, telling word? She hoped Gerald didn't pick up on it. He would get curious, start asking all sorts of questions. They all seemed so eager for her to regain her memory, ready to pounce on any indication that she remembered something, anything. It seemed unlikely that any of them would miss even the smallest slip.

Thankfully, either by his innate manners or by some miracle, Gerald didn't mention her bungle.

"Yes, I'm rather glad to be back myself. New Orleans is interesting, but I must admit I did miss the opportunity to ride whenever I felt like it. It's such an invigorating pastime, isn't it?"

"Oh, very," Michaela agreed, relieved that he hadn't caught her mistake. She would have to be more careful in future. It wouldn't do for them to find out that she was a fraud. In time, she would allow her memory back, but for now it was far too soon. She needed more time to think about it. To figure out how she would approach telling them the truth.

Leo already had their mounts ready for them when they arrived, and Gerald seemed eager to ride off and show her the property. Michaela followed his lead, and they raced out over the swell of hills with the wind in their faces and the sun at their backs. For the first time in her entire life she felt free, truly free. It was a sensation she had always longed for, and she almost wept with joy at being given the opportunity, however long or short the duration. It was here, now, and she intended to live every moment of it while it lasted.

They raced off toward the horizon, the sound of the horse's hooves pounding over the lush terrain, mimicking her own heartbeat. The ride was invigorating, the wind in her face intoxicating. The horses seemed to love it as much as she did, and Michaela was cheered by the sheer wonder of riding. Her laughter followed Gerald's as they topped a hill and started down the other side at a reckless pace. Their gallop over the hill became a game to see who could reach a distant point first, and she bent over her mount's neck, eager to pull ahead as they raced toward a copse of trees. She beat Gerald by a nose, her eyes shining with her victory.

"You're an exceptional rider, Michaela," Gerald commented, slowing his horse to a walk beside hers.

"I suppose there are some things one never forgets."

"True."

When Gerald turned his horse toward the west, Michaela followed suit, their horses walking so closely that her knee occasionally brushed his. She felt so relaxed and at ease with him. It was refreshing, liberating. It gave her a wonderful sense of self, an awareness and appreciation for everything around her, even a stab of nostalgia. If only she could feel this way all the time.

She glanced at Gerald. He was the cause of this wonderful feeling. He had opened his arms to her, made her feel welcome with his easy nature, his quick smile, his forgiving eyes.

"Gerald."

It was a bare whisper of sound, but it was enough that he heard it, and he turned his head to look at her, his eyes soft, open and inviting.

"I just wanted to thank you. You've done so much for me, to make me welcome. I'm not worthy."

He stared at her for a long time, his body rocking back and forth in time with the movement of the horse beneath him. "Don't ever say that again, Michaela. You
are
worthy, perhaps more worthy than any of us."

He glanced away, a muscle in his jaw working hard. For the first time since she'd known him, he actually looked upset, uncertain. "If I could make your memory return...." He turned to look at her again, his gaze earnest now. "If it would help you, I would. But if it meant that you would leave here...." He shook his head, his eyes sad. "I'd wish that it never return at all."

Tears stung her eyes, and she had to look away before she broke down and wept in front of him. Dear Gerald. He always said the right thing, always knew precisely how to heal her.

"Are you certain of that?" she whispered, her gaze on the trail ahead.

She felt his hand touch hers and looked up to meet his eyes again.

"Quite certain," he answered.

"Thank you," she murmured, lifting his hand to touch the back of it to her cheek.

"I care about you, Michaela. I don't want anything to happen to you."

The tear finally escaped and trickled down to wet his wrist. He brushed the trail of it away from her cheek with a finger, then pulled her hand up to his face and gently pressed a kiss to her palm. Then, in a blink, his expression changed and he was grinning impishly and saying, "Race you to the break in the trees."

She smiled. She knew he was only trying to ease the sudden awkwardness of the moment—the seriousness had evidently gotten to him—and she appreciated his efforts.

She didn't answer, just dug her heels into the horse's sides and leapt to a head start.

"No fair!" he shouted, already pounding after her.

She laughed all the way, shouting her indignation when he pulled ahead and beat her by a full head.

"We're even now," he insisted, still laughing.

With an indulgent shake of her head, she fell into pace beside him again. They rode for some distance, Gerald pointing out little details of the landscape, explaining where the property lines fell. There were miles and miles of land, so much that Christopher Standeven's holdings seemed endless. The mountains rose regally in the distance, a beautiful backdrop of breathtaking earth and sky. Just being there, breathing the warm, clean air, seeing nothing but land and sky that went on forever, feeling the horse sway beneath her, it would be so easy to forget that she didn't belong here. She felt as though she'd never existed anywhere else but here, in this one single moment in time.

Gerald finally brought them to a halt beside a lake, and bade her dismount. Grateful for the opportunity to stretch her legs, Michaela obliged, dropping the reigns over the horse's neck as she glanced around at her surroundings. It was a beautiful spot, perfect for picnics. Gerald pulled a blanket from his saddle pack and spread it on a smooth, lush knoll for them to sit on. Leaving the horses to graze nearby on the sweet smelling grass, she joined him, and they enjoyed the view in companionable silence.