Rexanne Becnel (11 page)

Everyone else had someone to greet them, or some purpose for being there and doing things. But she was entirely alone, Lacie thought morosely. She had no one, other than her students. Being a teacher was all she had. But even that was threatened now, for her life at Sparrow Hill hung on the strength of her terrible lie.

She released a long, slow sigh. How she wished Ada had stayed! She knew that if she’d only asked her to, Ada would have stayed, but that would have been unfair, Lacie acknowledged. Ada deserved to have some time with her family. There was no reason for Dillon Lockwood to ruin that, too.

The high-pitched laughter of a child brought her depressing thoughts to an end. When Lacie turned, she saw Nina and Dillon heading her way.

What an incongruous pair, she thought as she watched their approach. Nina’s bloomer-clad legs took three steps for every one of Dillon’s ground-eating strides. She was pink and white and ruffled, as opposed to his dark and simply garbed silhouette. Her bonnet strings were flying as she scurried up the steps and ran giggling over to Lacie.

“Miss Lacie! Miss Lacie! He says if I ride my pony astride, I’ll get bow legs. Is that true? Is it?”

Lacie smiled down at Nina’s eager young face. “I suppose you might.”

“But my daddy rides astride. And so does he.” The little girl looked back at Dillon. “He doesn’t have bow legs, does he, Miss Lacie?”

Lacie could not help glancing at Dillon as he stood there, tall and straight, his legs a little apart, his hat shading his face. Unbidden, a picture of that same body, but unclothed as if for a bath, came into her mind. His legs were not bowed at all, she recalled. They were long and well shaped, the muscles not disguised a bit by the even sprinkling of dark hairs.

Lacie’s eyes jerked up to his face abruptly. She would not remember such things or think such thoughts, she told herself sternly. Yet gazing into his serious green eyes was hardly a remedy for that, she realized in dismay. Still, she was unable to look away.

“Are you ready to go?”

Lacie heard his quiet words, but she was slow to respond. “I suppose there’s no reason to linger,” she finally admitted, casting a last wistful glance down the now-empty train track. How she wished she had family to go home to! Then Nina slipped a warm hand into hers, and Lacie turned away from the tracks.

“To answer your questions, Nina. I don’t know why some men develop bow legs and others don’t. But I do know that proper young ladies use a sidesaddle and never sit astride.”

“But that’s so hard,” the little girl complained as they stepped down from the platform and crossed to where the school’s carriage waited in the shade of a low spreading oak.

“Yes, it is harder,” Lacie agreed. Then she smiled conspiratorially at Nina. “I doubt either your father or Dill—or Mr. Lockwood—could ride sidesaddle nearly as well as you!”

That brought a delighted giggle from the child. “I bet you’re right, Miss Lacie. I bet I
can
do it better than them. But I’m still not as good as you.”

“Such a sassy little tyke,” Dillon teased. Then he grabbed Nina, raised her up high, and deposited her before the driver’s seat of the brett. As Nina’s giggles began to subside, he turned to Lacie.

“Shall you ride alone in the back? Or will you grace us with your company up front?” His eyes were dark and unreadable, shaded by the brim of his hat, and Lacie wondered what secret thoughts moved through his mind. He was a strange man, unfailingly polite to Ada, patient and kind to Nina, and, on occasion, quite the gentleman with her. But then other times…

“Oh, up front. Up front!” Nina insisted eagerly. “And don’t forget, you said you would show me how to drive a pair,” she reminded Dillon.

The ride into town had been uneventful. The stay had been brief and unremarkable. As long as Nina was there, what harm could it do to ride up front with Dillon? With a small agreeable smile she nodded her assent. But as she turned to place her foot on the high step, he stopped her. Then with a low murmured “Allow me,” he placed his hands around her waist and lifted her effortlessly up to the driver’s bench.

For an instant their eyes locked as she braced her hands against his wide shoulders. Then she found her feet and immediately leaned away from him. But it was a moment before he released his hold on her, and in that split second her pulse began to race.

Flustered, she sat down on the oilcloth bench seat at once. Even after he untethered the pair and climbed easily aboard the other side, she felt an undeniable breathlessness.

Lacie was silent as Dillon expertly guided the team through town. Once they had passed the Half Moon and he began to show Nina how to handle a team, there was no real reason for Lacie to speak. Nina was too full of questions and Dillon too willing to answer each one for Lacie’s reserve to be noticed. As he showed the girl how to thread the reins through her fingers and keep just the correct amount of tension on them, Lacie’s mind wandered in the most disturbing direction.

Why must she react so perversely toward this man? Him above all others? Richard Beasley’s courtship had left her unmoved; Walter Reynolds’s single kiss, pressed so politely against her forehead, had only annoyed her; and Angus Hawsley’s avid attentions had not affected her whatsoever. They had all been respectable sorts—well, perhaps Angus had been a trifle questionable on that score, but at least he’d been sincere.

But this man? His reputation was hardly sterling. And despite his wealth, his motives were completely selfish. She knew that without an ounce of doubt. Yet he was the one—he alone—who turned her knees to jelly and her mind to mush. She who had always prided herself on her logical thinking and unemotional reactions was time and time again undone by his slightest touch.

She was so engrossed in her own agonizing thoughts that she did not at first respond to Nina’s call.

“Look! Look, Miss Lacie! I’m doing it all by myself!”

Lacie forced a smile to her troubled face. “So you are. So you are, my dear. My, how quickly you’ve caught on.”

“That’s ’cause I’ve got a good teacher.”

“So you do,” Lacie murmured as she glanced cautiously at Dillon. He was leaning back against the seat, one arm stretched out behind Nina, his hand resting near her own shoulder.

“Perhaps I have more in common with Frederick than we thought,” he said slowly, his gaze trained steadily on her.

Lacie averted her eyes at once. Although she did not know precisely what he implied, she knew there was some further meaning hidden in his softly spoken words. Everything he said, everything he did, seemed calculated to taunt and test her. But she was no fainthearted miss to buckle under the double-edged sword of his masculine appeal and his barbed words. He might consider her prey to his predatory stalking, but she would not be an easy victim. She lifted her chin and continued to stare straight ahead.

“Frederick was a very particular horseman. The two of you do seem to share that trait.”

“That’s odd, wouldn’t you say? Our father’s concern for his animals extended only as long as they won on the track.”

She glanced sidelong at him from beneath her thick lashes, unable to mistake the hard edge that had crept into his voice. “Frederick was never cruel to the horses he kept.”

“No, he wouldn’t be.”

“I wouldn’t ever hurt a horse,” Nina threw in as she concentrated on holding the reins just so.

They continued in silence for a little while, following the hard-packed road that led past fields of ripening tomatoes, strawberries, and beans, and through dense stands of pine trees. There was something soothing about the rhythmic rocking of the well-sprung carriage. That, taken with the pleasant warmth of the afternoon sun, conspired to make Lacie relax against the tufted back of the seat. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she stiffened in alarm.

Her angry glare, however, was met only by Dillon’s crooked smile.

“I think our driver has fallen asleep,” he murmured quietly.

“Oh.” Lacie looked down at the dozing Nina, who was leaning comfortably against Dillon’s side. She felt quite foolish for her hasty reaction to Dillon’s touch.

“Take these reins,” he instructed. Then before she could question him, he scooped Nina up and deposited her gently on the wide seat immediately behind theirs.

Then he settled himself back on the driver’s seat and stretched out his long legs, watching her as she drove.

“You’ve a good hand for driving,” he commented. It was the first nice thing he’d said about her, and it unexpectedly pleased her. “You’re apparently a good horsewoman as well, if Nina is any judge. And I have to assume you’re a more than adequate teacher if Frederick kept you on staff. So tell me.” He paused, and Lacie once more felt the light movement of his fingers upon the starched lace that circled the neckline of her modestly cut blouse. “Are you good at everything you do?”

Lacie leaned forward at once. Whether from his unexpected touch or his suggestive words, she could not say, but her heart’s pace most assuredly trebled.

“A lady strives to excel at everything she does,” she blurted out, but she knew he wasn’t really looking for an answer.

“Everything?” His voice held a distinctly amused tone. “That may explain how you’ve covered up your trail so well. I do have to give you credit, Lacie. I made some subtle inquiries while you and Ada waited for the train, and there certainly appears to be no real reason to doubt your tale of a marriage to Frederick.”

“It’s no tale!” she snapped.

“If it
is
true,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard her at all, “that may also explain Frederick’s unexpected death so soon after your marriage.”

Lacie shot him an uncertain glance. “What is that supposed to mean?” Then she became alarmed. “Are you accusing me of somehow doing something—of having anything to do with Frederick’s death?”

“No, no, nothing quite so terrible as that. I only wondered…” His eyes moved down slowly to take in her entire body. Then they returned to her face gleaming with some new and unknown emotion. “Well, if you
were
married to Frederick and if ladies
do
strive to excel at everything, it’s reasonable to assume that despite your prudish demeanor, it was your passionate lovemaking that caused his heart to give out.”

Lacie could not muster the words to respond to such an outrageous idea. She was too astounded. But as he continued to stare at her, waiting for her reply, she felt a violent blush stain her cheeks. How could he have said such a dreadful thing? Did he dare to jest about her wifely relationship with his own deceased brother?

But he was hardly smiling, and Lacie became even more confused by his serious demeanor. With a flick of the reins she forced her attention back to the horses. Then she felt his finger once more, toying this time with a wisp of her hair that had come loose at the nape of her neck. In an instant all her confused and distracted emotions jelled into the security of righteous anger, and she turned a furious face toward him.

“You may assume whatever you wish, Mr. Lockwood. I refuse to be drawn into your greedy little game. And I consider it the height of callousness to speculate so crudely on Frederick’s death!”

“Actually, it was Doc Cromwell who suggested that possibility. Of course, if you’re sure that can’t be the reason…” He trailed off with a shrug.

From anger to caution, Lacie’s expression suddenly altered, and she bit her lower lip in concern. Was it possible? she wondered. Could the private doings between a man and his wife actually cause his heart to fail? She’d never heard of such a thing. But if Doc Cromwell had brought it up…

If.
That was the catch. With one last searching look at him, Lacie turned her attention once more to her driving. He could be lying, or he could be telling the truth. She was not sure which. No doubt he did one as easily as the other.

Taking a breath, she finally replied. “If that was the doctor’s speculation, he did not mention it to me. But then,” she added caustically, “he’s far too polite to make such a crude observation to a grieving widow.”

So saying, she sent him a smug look.

But her remark, intended to cut him down, only brought a grin to his ruthlessly handsome face. “If you think me crude and lacking in manners, Lacie, say so. You don’t need to beat around the bush with me. I told you, I like direct women, not docile ones.” Then he gave her a knowing wink, pulled his hat down over his eyes, and settled down for a nap.

Lacie was irate. She could not win with him! she fumed. She just could not! If she said she was not docile, then she was direct. But she did not want to profess to be the sort of woman he preferred. Likewise, although she was willing to claim Frederick as her husband, it was another thing entirely to take the blame for his death due to—due to—

Oh, he was truly the most devious, hateful man who had ever lived!

L
ACIE WAS GETTING QUITE
an education. She thought she had known everything about Sparrow Hill School and about Frederick. And certainly everything she
needed
to know about Dillon Lockwood.

But as the days went by, she realized she had known little more than nothing.

As Dillon went through the myriad files and the confusing account books for the school, she kept an eye on him to protect herself and the school. But at his elbow she was finding out all sorts of—often unpleasant—information.

How in heaven’s name had Frederick kept the school going? she wondered in amazement as she studied the column of entries for the previous semester’s accounts. Tuition barely covered the salaries of the staff and the household expenses. Everything else—the school books and supplies, the heavy taxes on the property, and the exorbitant cost of maintaining the stable of riding horses—seemed to be financed by Frederick’s own personal funds. But at such a rate, with no outside income, even a fortune would eventually be depleted. How long would the school have been able to maintain itself at that rate?

Lacie rubbed her forehead in dismay.

“Not a pretty picture, is it?” Dillon closed the account book with a thud, then sprawled back in his chair. His jade-green gaze was sharp upon her as he laced his fingers casually across his stomach.