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"No," she squealed. "Since you are already here, you must stay. You can share our dinner because we decided to cook for ourselves."

"And who, exactly, is we?" Sniffing the air for signs of food, he walked through the house with his arms full of wiggling girl and pink ruffles.

"Miss Eastman cooked, and I helped."

He frowned. "It doesn't appear you're doing a very good job, judging by the smell." He wrinkled his nose at the odor, knowing nothing Delta had ever cooked smelled quite like it. "Besides, Amanda, you don't need to learn to cook. Only to plan menus. You will always have a cook to take care of you."

He pushed through the kitchen doors, letting Amanda slide to the floor. His nostrils twitched at the strong, spicy smell. Amanda grabbed his sleeve and forced his attention back to her upturned face.

"No, Uncle Nicholas, you're wrong. Miss Eastman says a woman must be self...self?" her brow wrinkled in concentration. "Well, she said I must be able to take care of myself."

"Self-sufficient," Jaci said, softly supplying the missing word.

Nicholas turned to where she stood by the large work table. She looked decidedly uncomfortable that Amanda had repeated her remarks to him, and for a moment Nicholas debated whether to call her on the carpet for filling his niece's head with such foolishness.

But only for a moment. She gave him a shy smile and he forgot everything except how lovely she looked. She used the back of one floured hand to brush her blond hair away from her flushed face. The blue of her gown added color to her appearance, even though her cheeks glowed already from the heat of the fire.

She had been the main reason for his rapid return to Wildwood this night, instead of waiting until morning. At the present time, he didn't dare voice what was growing in his heart, but the emotion continued to weave itself through the very fiber of his being. Soon, he cautioned himself to patience. Soon.

From the doorway he watched as she and Amanda finished the concoction and placed the flat cooking sheet in the oven. She would make a marvelous mother, he thought, regardless of her unusual ideas about womanhood. Other pictures leapt to mind--Jaci with the kittens; Jaci holding Amanda on her lap and soothing a hurt; Jaci helping Molly to read. Visions of her were firmly planted in his brain and he couldn't erase them even in his sleep. Nor did he want to.

"Where's Delta?" He shook himself from his daydreams.

"Miss Eastman gave her the day off. She said she was working much too hard and didn't need to wait on us hand and foot," Amanda answered as she climbed onto his lap the minute he sat down on a stool.

"She what?" He frowned, shifting his gaze to Jaci, who refused to look at him but instead scrubbed at a spot on the table that was already clean. "Miss Eastman?"

Her shoulders scrunched towards her head at his tone. Yet, before he said anything more, she slapped the rag down on the worktable, squared her shoulders and turned to him, hands on hips and eyes flashing.

"What?" The single word carried all the audacity of someone wanting to know why he questioned her.

Why, indeed? It was his home.

"Are you undermining my authority in my own household and turning my employees against me?"

"No, of course not. I simply think your employees deserve some time off."

"They get a day off. It is not your position to give them more than that." Her attitude implied he didn't treat his employees fairly, and that was far from the truth. He tended to be more generous than most.

"I do not need someone waiting on me all day long. When you are away on business, there's no reason why they must be on duty."

"I believe we've already discussed your interference with other's work, have we not?" He deposited Amanda on the stool and stood, feeling more in control of the situation when he towered over her.

"My interference?" Her voice rose an octave and her green eyes flashed dangerously. She stepped towards him as she spoke, each word accented by the swish of her skirts and the sway of her hips. In the midst of their argument, with her voiced raised and her dainty hands curled into fists, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her. He watched as the fire continued to smolder behind her thin control.

"Did you know Delta is sixty-eight years old? She has worked every day of her life since she was three. When she was a slave, she used to be up before the sun, starting fires in the rooms and carrying out chamber pots, for heaven's sake." Her eyes had filled with tears as she repeated Delta's past--a past Nicholas knew very well.

"Delta's not a slave anymore," he answered softly. "My grandfather brought his household up north with him, and my father freed them all--long before the war of dissension."

Apparently upset at her feminine outburst, Jaci wiped her eyes with the apron she wore and looked to the floor. "Yes, well, she still deserves a break."

Amanda interrupted at this point, and Nicholas didn't know whether the child did it purposely or not. It mattered not, for he didn't want to argue with Jaci.

"Is the pizza done, yet?"

"Oh, dear, I forgot." Jaci quickly turned and opened the door to the oven, reaching in to grab the baking sheet with only the thin cloth of her apron covering her hand.

"Ouch, ouch!" She quickly dropped the pan onto the worktable and turned her back, but Nicholas was aware she had hurt herself.

Forgetting their argument, he rushed to where she fidgeted, shaking her burned hand rapidly in the air.

"Let me see." He took her wrist and turned her hand over, observing the red areas on the pads of her fingers, and a long red streak across her palm. "I don't think it'll blister."

"Can we eat?" Amanda didn't notice the grownups, because she was more intent on the food steaming from the center of the table.

"Go wash up. By the time you return, it should be cool enough," Jaci stated.

Even though he knew she was in pain, it surprised him to hear her answer Amanda in a normal tone of voice. The youngster immediately left to do as she was told. Well, at least one female in this group did so.

"Why did you do that? You knew it was hot," he chided, referring to grabbing the hot tray. He tugged her along to the sink where he pumped cool water and stuck her hand beneath the spout.

"I was mad; I didn't think. Ouch." Now that Amanda was out of the room, apparently she didn't feel the need to act quite so tough. She tried to jerk her stinging hand from beneath the water. He held on tighter. A tear glittered at the corner of her eye.

"Why won't you let someone take care of you? Why do you try so hard not to need anyone?" It was a question that had haunted him since she began working at Wildwood. With every action, she tried to prove her independence--her intention not to rely on anyone for anything.

More tears came. He gently wiped his thumb across her cheek, lost in the sparkling sea green of her eyes. He liked this soft, gentle side of her--the tender side that needed to be held and cared for. Before she decided once again to be in control, he took advantage.

Keeping her gaze captured in his, he shut off the water and gently patted dry her palm. Lifting her hand, he licked the pad of each finger before kissing across the tender red skin of her palm. His hot mouth continued to her wrist and the soft skin at the inside of her elbow.

Still holding her wrist, he tugged slightly and she swayed towards him--close enough for his lips to find hers. With a sigh, he released her wrist and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her the rest of the way towards surrender.

Nicholas's kiss was incredibly tender, and it scared Jaci to death. She didn't want to care for this man; didn't want to feel emotions she had buried long ago. It would only spell disaster. Yet even as she told herself she didn't care, she wound her arms around his neck and hung on tight.

His kisses tonight were different somehow: gentle, where before she had always had a sense of being devoured. He didn't clutch at her, but instead cradled her tenderly against him. The effect was profound. She ached with an incredible heaviness. She tried to step closer but he held her back; she opened her mouth for him to deepen the kiss, but instead he traced a path up to her ear where he sucked on her ear lobe.

A groan escaped and she felt her knees buckle. Was it the words he said, or his hot breath on her neck? Did it matter?

"Did you think of me when I was gone?" His tongue tickled her ear but the last thing she wanted to do was laugh. "Do you have any idea how much I want to--"

"Pizza, pizza!" Amanda's sing-song voice carried down the hall. "Pizza, pizza!" The chant echoed just outside the kitchen and Jaci felt the lack of Nicholas's warmth. She opened her eyes.

By the time Amanda entered the kitchen, Nicholas had managed to round the table and was leaning nonchalantly on the other side. She resented him for his attitude; how could he act unaffected?

Sucking in a deep breath, she mentally shook herself. That's why she didn't need anyone. But as she walked around the table to serve their dinner, she glanced once more at Nicholas. She found him staring at her with an almost painful expression. Her glance involuntarily slid downward and she realized he wasn't as unaffected as he wanted anyone to believe.

"Here, Uncle Nicholas." Amanda excitedly thrust a plate at him and Jaci watched his reaction.

"What is it?" His expression remained skeptical, and Jaci wondered what to say. She hadn't intended on explaining since he wasn't supposed to be home.

"Pizza, pizza," Amanda sang again, repeating the jingle Jaci had sung while they had made their bacon pizza.

It has taken some creativity to find all the ingredients to produce a semblance of Jaci's favorite food. It had sounded like a good idea at the time, but now, as she looked down at the bubbly goo with chunks of preserved tomato and bacon and onion atop a rather thick bread crust, she had her doubts.

Amanda didn't seem to mind. Nicholas looked askance as she picked it up with her fingers.

"Amanda."

She looked at him with her huge eyes, and Jaci laughed. Before she had a chance to explain, Amanda repeated to Nicholas what she had told the youngster earlier.

"It's a very modern food, Uncle Nicholas. You even get to eat it with your fingers." To show him how, she took a bite, the pizza sauce making a crooked smile across her face.

Nicholas glanced from his niece to Jaci, and she wondered if she was in trouble again. It seemed a never-ending part of her existence. To her surprise, he winked at her as he followed Amanda's example and picked up a slice of pizza and began to eat.

Jaci almost cried. What was she going to do with him? She refused to put a name to the emotion that welled up inside as she watched the two of them eat. In the short time she had been here, she shouldn't feel the things she did, either towards Amanda or Nicholas. She had always been a private person, not free with her feelings, but these two made her feel so much a part of Wildwood and their existence here.

Yet she didn't exist here; at least not in the same sense. She kept reminding herself not to get involved; not to feel more than a passing fancy for the man sitting across from her. After all, if he married, he would be lost to her. And if she found a way back to Dallas and her own home? Too painful to contemplate, she forced the thought to the back of her mind and reached for a second slice of pizza.

"Pizza, huh?" He commented between bites. "It's not bad, I suppose, but it will never catch on as a meal."

* * *

November turned to December and still, little trace of winter marred the countryside. What snowfall they had, melted in the wake of warmer days. As long as weather permitted, Nicholas and his trainers ran the horses outside. When she had time, Jaci liked to stand at the white rail fence and watch the horses race.

Today was one such day and she tucked her shawl under her arms as she watched Nicholas. He stood inside the paddock, giving advice to a rider, then turning to speak in low tones to Mackey. She tilted her head sideways, recalling the day she had met the trainer.

Earlier that week, Nicholas had walked with her and Amanda out towards the barn. Amanda wanted to check on the kittens, which had grown and scattered over the weeks. She had finally managed to catch one and now cradled it in her arms.

"Mackey, come over here and meet Miss Eastman," Nicholas called from behind her.

Her heart had catapulted into her throat as she turned quickly around. She momentarily lost her balance and fell into Nicholas.

Dear Lord, how did he know the carousel operator at State Fair Park? How would Mackey have ended up here, at Wildwood? But when her vision cleared, she realized it wasn't the same person at all.

"MacAdoo, do you remember Miss Eastman?"

"Howdy, ma'am. You look a right bit different, er, better, than you did the first time we met." He grabbed the hat off his head and twisted it in his hands.

She was still shaking, but managed to answer, "Good morning, Mr. MacAdoo. We've met before?"

"Yes, ma'am, the day you arrived, uh, in the horse pen?" He shrugged his stooped shoulders and smiled a half smile, as though he wasn't sure he should mention her circumstances.

That day seemed long ago to her. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Mr. MacAdoo."

"Call me Mackey; everybody does." The trainer grinned this time, showing crooked, tobacco stained teeth.

Mackey. Remembering that day now, she also recalled her acute disappointment at not being back in Dallas.

"Penny for your thoughts," Nicholas whispered close at hand and she jumped.

"You would owe me quite a bit of money if I actually made you pay every time you said that."

"Yes, but it might be worth my fortune to know what thoughts lurk behind the myriad expressions that cross your face when you think no one is looking." He came to stand beside her at the fence, one booted foot on the bottom rail, arms crossed on the top.

She searched wildly around for a safe topic, knowing full well she would never divulge what she had actually been thinking.

"Your horses are beautiful. You must be very proud of the tradition you have created." She spoke the truth, for even though she knew little about these animals, she realized they were exceptional. It reminded her of looking at art; a person might not know the period of a piece, or its worth, but it was still beautiful to behold.