Fairy Tale Weddings (21 page)

“If you ask me that once more I think I'll scream,” Judy told him with a scathing look that added credence to her threat. “It's been three weeks since the accident. I'm not recovering from brain surgery, you know!”

“But horseback riding…”

“If Ms. Reinholt approved, so should you. Besides, I want to ride again before I lose my nerve.”

“Never mind yours,” McFarland muttered. “Mine's completely shot.”

Sam brought both Princess and Midnight to the front of the stables and held Princess while Judy slipped her foot into the stirrup and mounted the mare.

The movement caused a painful twinge, but nothing she couldn't readily disguise. “There,” she said triumphantly.

“Right.” McFarland swung himself onto Midnight and circled the yard. Judy hadn't fooled him; she was hurting and he was furious that she wouldn't put this off until she'd had time to heal completely.

“Are you coming or not?” She threw the question over her shoulder as she trotted ahead of him toward the beach.

“Judy, slow down!” he shouted, racing after her.

“No.”

The wind carried her laughter and McFarland relaxed in his saddle, smiling as the sound washed over him. The last few weeks had drastically altered their relationship.

He'd never spent time like this with a woman. A shared look could have more meaning than an hour's conversation; a kiss in the moonlight could fill him with longing. She might have been innocent, but she aroused in him a sensual awareness far stronger than anything he'd ever known. When she laughed, he laughed; when she ached, he ached; when she was happy, he was happy.

He spent as much of his day with her as his business would allow. For the first time, he delegated his duties freely. He'd always known that Avery Anderson was a competent manager, but in the past three weeks, he'd learned to fully utilize and appreciate the man's talents.

If McFarland needed to read over papers regarding his business interests, he'd often do it in the evenings. Content simply to be at his side, Judy would sit across from him in the library reading, a book propped open in front of her, while he handled his affairs. Often he found his interest wavering. Watching her was by far the greater joy.

There'd been a time when he was reluctant to take an hour off; now he dedicated whole days to Judy. He couldn't imagine his life without her. Some inner part of himself
must have known this would happen—that was the only possible explanation for the fact that he'd forced her to come to the island. For the very first time in his life he was utterly content. There were no more mountains to conquer, no more bridges to cross. There was nothing he desired more than what he possessed at that moment.

“I've missed riding,” Judy said happily, breaking into his thoughts.

He'd ridden only five or six times himself, preferring to spend any free hours with her.

“John,” she said, her voice softening, “I thought I asked you to stop buying me gifts.”

“I vaguely recall something to that effect,” he said glibly.

“If you think you've fooled me, you're wrong. I know exactly what's going on.”

“I wouldn't dream of disregarding your wishes.” He did his best to disguise a smile.

“I suppose you don't think I've noticed the way Sam's been walking around like a peacock. You've bought another horse.”

Shaking his head, McFarland chuckled. “She's a beauty. You're going to love her.”

“Oh, John, honestly. What am I going to do with you?”

Love me. Marry me. Have children with me. Fill my life with joy
. The possibilities were endless.

“John, look,” Judy cried. “The kids are playing in the surf.”

McFarland paused, watched their antics and laughed.

“They haven't seen you in a couple of weeks,” he said. “Go and talk to them. I'll wait for you here.”

“Wait for me?” She turned questioning eyes to him.

“I'll frighten them away.”

Judy frowned. She understood what he meant, but it was time the children got to know him the way she did, the way he really was. “But you're with me,” she said, climbing down from Princess. “Come on.” She held out her hand to him.

McFarland felt a twinge of nervousness as he joined her. He hadn't been around children much and if he admitted the truth, he felt as apprehensive as they did.

“Philippe. Elizabeth.” Judy called their names and watched as they turned, then raced toward her.

“Judy!”

Arms went flying around her amid a chorus of happy cries.

Judy fell to her knees and joyously hugged each one.

“We heard you nearly died!”

“There's a nurse on the island now. Did you know that?”

“Paulo got a new tooth.”

“It'd take more than a fall to do me in,” she told them with a light laugh, dismissing their concern. She lifted her eyes to John's, daring him to contradict her. “Children, I have someone I want you to meet.” She rose to her feet and slid her arm around John's waist. “This is Mr. McFarland. He owns the island.”

All the children froze until Elizabeth and Margaret curtsied formally, their young faces serious as they confronted John McFarland. The boys bowed.

McFarland frowned, raised his brows at Judy and followed the boys' example, bending low. “I'm pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Did you build us the school?”

“The nurse stuck a needle in my arm, but I didn't cry.”

“The doctor said I have to eat my vegetables.”

The flurry of activity took him by surprise. Patiently, he was introduced to each child.

“Judy. Judy.” Jimmy came running from the edge of the jungle, carrying a huge cage. “Did you see my bird?”

He was so obviously proud of his catch that Judy paid a great deal of attention to the large blue parrot. “Oh, he's lovely.”

“I caught him myself,” Jimmy went on to explain. “He was trapped in the brush and I grabbed him and put him inside the cage.”

The square box had been woven from palm leaves. “You did an excellent job.”

“He sings, too. Every morning.”

“I think you should set him free,” Margaret said, slipping her hand into Judy's. “No one's happy in a cage.”

“But he sings,” Jimmy countered.

“He's such a pretty bird,” Philippe said, sticking his fingers into the holes of the cage. The parrot's wings fluttered madly in an effort to escape.

“I give him food. He'll even let me hold him.”

“But how do you know he's happy?” Margaret persisted.

“Because I just do!”

“But how do you know he'll be happy tomorrow?”

“Because he will!”

Judy felt the blood drain from her face. The chatter of the children abated. Even the ocean appeared to hold back the surf. Judy couldn't take her eyes off the parrot, and her throat clogged with emotion. She was like that bird. She'd been coerced into coming here. John had forced her to leave everything she loved behind. He'd given her gift
after gift, admired her, held her in high regard, but it had changed nothing. She was still in a cage, a gilded one, but nevertheless a cage. She could flutter her wings, trying to escape, but she was trapped as effectively as the parrot.

“I…think I should get back to the house,” she said, her voice shaky.

“It was too much for you,” John took her by the elbow and led her over to Princess. “You've gone pale,” he told her.

Judy felt as though someone had robbed her of her happiness. Seeing the bird brought her own situation into clear focus. She'd been playing a fool's game to believe she could ever be more than a plaything to John. He'd told her when she first arrived that she'd been brought to St. Steven's to amuse him. She'd fulfilled that expectation well, so content was she with her surroundings.

The ride back to the house seemed to require all her energy.

“I'm contacting the doctor,” McFarland announced the minute they'd dismounted and the horses had been led away. “I knew it was too soon, but I went against my better judgment.”

“No,” Judy said, hardly able to look at him. “I'll go lie down for a moment. Then I'll be fine.” That wasn't true, but she needed an excuse to get away from him and think.

A letter was waiting for her on the dresser in her room. She stared at the familiar handwriting and felt overwhelmingly homesick. Tears burned for release as she held the envelope and closed her eyes. Home. Her father. David. New York had never seemed so far from her, or so unattainable.

The content of the letter had a curious effect on her. Suddenly in control of herself again, she marched out of her room and down the stairs.

John was in his office dictating a memo to Avery when she approached him. He looked up, obviously surprised to see her standing here. “Judy,” he said softly. “Are you feeling better?”

“I'm fine.” She noticed how blithely he smiled, unaware of the change in her. “John, I need to talk to you.”

He dismissed Avery with a shake of his head. Judy closed the door after his assistant and turned to face him, pressing her hands against the door. Her lack of emotion astonished even her.

“There was a letter from my family in my room when I returned.”

“I'd heard one had been delivered.”

She dropped her hands to her side. “My brother's getting married.”

“Good.” McFarland smiled. “It seems the shipping business has improved.” With a little subtle help from him. The Lovins need never know, and it eased his conscience to repay them in some small measure for sending Judy to him.

“My father is thrilled with his choice and so am I. David has loved Marie for several years, but delayed the wedding because…well, you know why.”

For having received such good news, Judy didn't appear very happy.

“John,” she said, boldly meeting his gaze. “I've been here for nearly three months now.”

“Yes.”

“You asked me and I came without question. I've never asked to leave.”

A sense of dread filled McFarland. “What are you saying?”

“I want to go home.”

“I
won't let you go,” McFarland said.

Judy closed her eyes at the bittersweet pain. “I haven't amused you enough?” At his blank stare, she continued. “That was the reason you brought me to the island, or so you claimed.”

“That has nothing to do with it.”

“Then what does?”

McFarland's control was slipping and rather than argue, he reached for his pen and scribbled instructions across the top of a sheet. If he ignored her, maybe she would forget her request and drop the matter entirely.

“John,” she said, “I'm not leaving this office until you answer me.”

“I've already said everything I intend to. The subject is closed.”

“The subject is standing in front of you demanding an answer!”

“You're my guest.”

“But you won't allow me to leave.”

A strained silence fell between them. Judy's breathing was fast and shallow. Her throat burned as she struggled to hold back her emotions.

“John, please.”

“You are my guest.”

“So I may leave?”

“No!”
His rage was palpable. He didn't know why, after all these weeks, she'd ask him to release her. His heart felt like a stone in his chest.

The silence returned.

When Judy spoke again, her voice was soft yet tortured. “Then I'm your prisoner.”

She turned and left him, feeling as though she was living out her worst nightmare. She dared not look back; tears threatened but she refused to let them fall.

McFarland watched her go, overcome by an unidentifiable, raw emotion. She called herself his prisoner, but there were chains that bound him just as strongly. She'd come to him and within weeks had altered the course of his life. He couldn't afford to lose Judy—she was his sunshine, his joy. She'd brought summer to the dark winter of his existence. How could he let her go?

Judy returned to her suite, weighed down by grief, sorrow, anger. She'd been happy with John and the island life. Everything had been good—until she'd seen the cage. Until she recognized the bars surrounding her. Perhaps she'd been blinded by her love for him and that was why she'd been able to tolerate this lack of choice, of independence. But now, like the bird wildly seeking escape, her wings were beating frantically, seeking freedom.

She took her brother's letter out of the envelope. For the third time, she read it. Every word was a form of torture.
Things she'd taken for granted returned to haunt her. Bently and the funny way he had of speaking out of the corner of his mouth; the dining-room chairs that were a family heritage; the drapes that hung over her bedroom windows.

Her beloved brother was getting married. Some of the weight lifted from her heart as she thought of David as a husband and someday a father. Marie would make him a good wife. His excitement and joy were evident in the letter. She could almost see him with his eyes sparkling and his arm around Marie's shoulder. How Judy wished she could be with him to share in this special moment.

At noon, although she had no appetite, Judy went downstairs, pausing just inside the dining room. John was waiting for her, standing at his end of the table, hands resting on the back of his chair.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked cordially.

“No.” She dropped her gaze to the table. A small, beautifully wrapped gift lay beside her water glass. She raised questioning eyes to John. “What's this?”

“Go ahead and open it.”

She wanted to tell him that she wouldn't accept any more gifts. He couldn't buy
her
as he'd bought everything else in his life. She wasn't for sale. The only thing she wanted from John McFarland was the freedom to return home, and he wouldn't give her that.

Dutifully, she sat down and peeled away the paper. Inside was a diamond bracelet of such elegance and beauty that she caught her breath. “It's beautiful.”

John looked pleased. “I was saving it for just the right moment.”

Judy gently closed the velvet box and set it aside. “Why
now? Did you want to prove that my shackles are jewel-encrusted? You needn't have bothered, John. I've always known that.”

His face convulsed and, as he stared at her, his eyes grew dark and hot.

Neither spoke another word during their meal, and when Judy walked out of the dining room, she pointedly left the bracelet behind.

 

A week passed, the longest, most difficult week of Judy's life. She didn't ask John to release her again, but her desire to leave the island hung between them at every meeting. Although she avoided him, he seemed to create excuses to be with her. He chatted easily, telling her little things, pretending nothing had changed. Judy wasn't that good an actress; she spoke only when he asked her a direct question. Although she tried to remain distant and aloof, it was hard.

To work out her frustration, she spent hours riding across the island. The sweltering heat of late summer was oppressive. One afternoon, toward dusk, she changed from her riding clothes into her swimsuit.

The pool was blissfully cool when she dove in. She hoped the refreshing water would alleviate the discomfort of the merciless sun and her own restlessness. She swam lazy laps, drawing comfort from the exercise.

She hadn't been in the water ten minutes when John joined her. As he approached the pool, Judy swam to the shallow end, stood up and shook the wet hair from her face. She defied him with her eyes, demanding that he leave and give her some privacy.

He ignored her silent pleas and jumped into the pool.
At first he did a series of laps. Somewhat relieved, Judy continued her exercise. When he suddenly appeared beside her, it was a surprise.

“Remember the last time we were in the water together?” he asked, his voice husky and low.

In an effort to get away from him, Judy swam to the deep end and treaded water. She remembered that afternoon on the beach all too well; he'd held her in his arms while the rolling surf plunged them underwater. He'd kissed her and held her body close to his as the powerful surf tossed them about.

Now his presence trapped her. She refused to meet his look.

“You remember, don't you?” he demanded.

“Yes,” she cried, and swallowed hard.

His face tightened and he lowered his voice, each syllable more seductive than the last. “So do I, Judy. I remember the way you slid your arms around my neck and buried your face in my chest.”

She shook her head in denial.

“You trembled when I kissed you and you clung to me as though I were your life. I remember everything.”

Judy closed her eyes. “Don't,” she whispered. She desperately wanted him to leave her.

“I'm not going.” He saw that her eyes were overly bright and that she was struggling to hold back the tears. “I miss you. I want things to go back to the way they were.”

Her chin rose. “They can't,” she said, her mouth trembling. “They'll never be the same.”

As much as he tried, McFarland couldn't understand what had changed. Why had she all of a sudden asked to
return to New York? He'd tried—heaven knew he'd tried—to understand, but she'd made it impossible. In a week, she'd hardly spoken to him. He'd attempted to draw her out, to discover what was troubling her. All she did was look at him with her large, soulful eyes as though she might burst into tears at any moment. After a week, he was losing his patience.

“Why can't they be the same?” he asked.

“I'm your prisoner.”

“No, you aren't,” he shouted.

“You brought me here as an amusement.”

“In the beginning, perhaps, but that's all different now.”

“But it isn't,” she said flatly. “Nothing is. I'm your prisoner,” she repeated.

“But you were happy.”

She flinched at the truth. “Yes, for a time I was.”

“What changed?”

“The walls,” she said in a tormented voice. “I could see the walls of my cell closing in around me.”

McFarland had no idea what she was talking about. Walls? Cell? She had more freedom now than she realized. She ruled his heart; he was hers to do with as she wished.

“Judy,” he said, trapping her against the bright blue tile of the pool. His face was only inches from hers. “You're talking nonsense.”

“To you, maybe. You don't understand.”

“I understand this,” he said, weaving his fingers into her wet hair. He kissed her then, pressing his body against her own as he hungrily claimed her mouth.

Judy pulled away, and he didn't stop her. But he said, “It was good with us. You can't have forgotten how good.”

“Yes, I remember,” she wept. Instinctively, her body arched toward him and she slipped her arms tightly around his neck. She was trembling when he kissed her once more and when she arched against him, he nearly lost his grip on the pool's edge.

“I can't let you go,” he whispered. He kissed her gently, slowly, again and again until she was weak and clinging in his arms. His body burned with need for her. Raising his head, he looked into her eyes. “I'll give you anything.”

Tears scorched a trail down her face. “I only want one thing.”

Knowing what she was about to say, McFarland closed his eyes to the pain.

“I want my freedom,” she sobbed. Her shoulders shook uncontrollably as she climbed out of the pool. “I want to go home.”

Guilt tore at him. He could deal with anything but her pain. Judy was using his conscience against him and in that moment, McFarland thought he hated her.

Then, seeing her tear-streaked face as she reached for the towel, McFarland realized something more—he hated himself twice as much.

Her tears didn't diminish, even when Judy returned to her room. She was shocked by the power John had to bend her will to his. How easily he'd manipulated her. She had to admit that his kisses were even more potent than her desire to go home to her family. Within minutes she'd been willing to give him anything he wanted.

 

When McFarland returned to his office, his mood was dark. He was short-tempered with anyone who had the misfortune of being within earshot. It was as though he
wanted to punish the world for trying to take away the only woman he'd ever cared about.

“Mr. McFarland,” Avery said, late that same afternoon. He stood in the doorway, not daring to approach his employer's desk.

“What is it?” McFarland barked. “I haven't got all day.”

“It's Ms. Lovin, sir.”

The pencil McFarland was holding snapped in half. “She's staying, Avery, and there's not a damn thing you can say that'll change my mind.”

“But her family…”

“What about them?”

“They've personally appealed for your mercy. It seems the Lovin boy is getting married and requests his sister's presence at the wedding.”

“They appealed for mercy! I hope you told them I have none.” McFarland shuffled through some papers, paying unnecessary attention to them.

“The family's requesting some indication of when you plan to release Ms. Lovin. The wedding can be delayed at…at your convenience.”

“Mine.” He snickered loudly. “I hope you told them I don't plan to release her.” He couldn't explain to Avery that he was
afraid
to release her. Afraid to lose her. Afraid she wouldn't come back.

“You won't let her off the island even to attend her brother's wedding?”

“No.”

“But, sir…”

“That will be all, Avery.”

McFarland's assistant took a deep breath, as though gathering his courage before speaking.

“Listen, Avery,” McFarland said, unwilling to listen to anyone's opinion regarding Judy. His mind was made up. “Feel free to submit your resignation again. Only next time I may not be so willing to give it back.”

 

That evening, McFarland sat alone in the library. During the years he'd been on the island, he'd spent countless nights in this room. Now it felt as cold and unwelcoming as an unmarked grave. When he couldn't tolerate it any longer, he rose and stepped outside, heading toward the stables. A beer with Sam would relax him. He was halfway there when he saw Judy, silhouetted in the moonlight, sitting on the patio by the pool. Her head was slightly bowed, the soft folds of her summer dress pleated around her. The pale light of the moon shone like a halo around her.

The scene affected him more than all her pleas. He remembered standing on the ridge, watching her play with the island children on the beach below. He recalled how her eyes would light up just before his mouth met hers; he recalled how she clung to him. With vivid clarity, he remembered the fall from the horse and how he would've given everything he owned not to see her hurt, not to lose her. Now, he was losing her anyway.