Saratoga Sunrise (7 page)

Sara walked out of Seawind's stable, dressed again in her pale green lawn gown with the ruffled hem and puffy elbow-length sleeves. It was the lightest summer gown she owned, but the unforgiving sun was making her perspire. Or perhaps it was the thrilling ride on Seawind. Or was it the nearness of Jack that was making her so warm?

Sara watched as he cooled down the two-year old colt with a liniment brace and wrapped the horse's legs. He certainly seemed to know what he was doing.

She couldn't take her eyes off the bulge of Jack's muscles bunching and moving against the fabric of his blue chambray shirt. The seat of his trousers strained across taut buttocks whenever he bent.

Embarrassed at her own frank assessment of Jack's lean body, she forced herself to look away.

Sara saw the other eight horses in the Peterson stable sticking their heads out of the half-doors. "Shall I'll feed and water the horses?" she asked.

She needed something to occupy her hands and her mind and to stop wondering what Jack's skin would feel like.

"Toady's already taken care of them, and I'll take care of Seawind now."

Jack led the horse into the large stall and shut the half-door. Seawind immediately stuck his head out and nickered.

Sara stroked his velvet nose. The horse nodded his head as he saw Jack return with a wooden bucket of water. He held it out and Seawind drank in loud slurps.

Sara turned to Jack. "Will you be riding tomorrow, too?"

"I'd love to, but I don't dare do it every day. Toady can give him his work out."

Oddly enough, he felt a sense of loss already. He wanted her to come back to the stable, wanted to be with her as much as possible, but he didn't want to appear too eager. He needed to pry more information out of Sara Peterson as to the Tempest Wind incident. A picnic would be the ideal atmosphere.

"I know a perfect spot for a picnic," he said too quickly, then shook his head. "Sorry."

"What's wrong?"

"I-I didn't think before I spoke. It's a fairly long walk from here. Let me think of a closer place." He didn't want her to tire or fall. He admired several things about Sara Peterson, and the way she tried to keep up with whomever she was walking with was one of them.

"Jack, I'll be fine. The walk will do me good since I didn't have my mineral bath this morning."

"There's a mineral spring where I thought we'd picnic. It's a place that not many people know about."

"How glorious! Let's go!"

"Are you sure you're up to it?"

"Try and stop me."

# # #

As they walked, Sara could see where the wispy clouds of the brilliant blue sky met the shiny green grass of the field. She steadied herself and intensified her efforts to walk straight. She stole glimpses of Jack out of the corner of her eye. He had been silent since he offered her his arm when they left the stables, and she wondered what he was thinking.

The picnic basket swayed at Jack's side as he walked, and several times she noticed that he slowed his pace so she could keep up. Instead of being embarrassed, she was overjoyed at his thoughtfulness. Monty would never be as kind.

Although it was an effort to walk through the rutted field, she delighted in the smell of the grass and the dance of the colorful butterflies as they enjoyed the wild flowers and clover. She inhaled deeply, letting the sweet-smelling air fill her, then slowly exhaled a long sigh of contentment.

"Let's rest for a while." Jack's rich, deep voice brought her back to earth. He looked down at her with concern and stopped walking.

"I'm fine."

"You sighed just now. Are you tired?"

"Not in the least. I'm just enjoying the wonderful day. It's so beautiful here and peaceful."

"I'm glad you like it. We're almost to the spot I wanted to show you. It's just over that small rise ahead."

"I can make it."

She was getting too warm so she took her bonnet off. Even though she was of fair complexion, she liked the outdoors and the way it turned her skin a golden color. Aunt Trixie always said that a lady should have a porcelain complexion, but Sara thought that such skin color was sickly-looking. At any rate, she would never have a porcelain complexion, for she was always outdoors working with the horses. Jack offered his arm again, and they began walking.

Sara knew she shouldn't be in a man's company without a chaperone, but she trusted Jack and was having the best day of her life since the carriage accident happened.

Her father and Aunt Trixie were much too over-protective of her, and she herself was much too shy. Shy? She suppressed a giggle. Here she was on the arm of a man she had just met a day ago, and who had conspired to help her ride her horse, and now she was going to picnic with him–alone, no less! A shiver of excitement at her daring coursed through her.

It was harder than she had expected to walk up the small incline. She felt winded, and her bad leg was tiring. But it was forgotten as they reached the crest of the hill. She gasped at the beauty of the scene in the distance. Not far below, the sun shone on a silver ribbon of water as it twisted and turned through a tree-lined gash in the field. Wild daisies, yellow buttercups, and purple and pink wild flowers made a beautiful carpet leading to the creek.

"It's breathtaking, Jack."

He smiled, his eyes twinkling. "I've always loved coming here," he muttered absentmindedly.

Sara was puzzled. "Than you're from Saratoga? You grew up here?"

He looked at her, startled. "Um...no. I mean...yes. I lived here for a while when I was younger," he said, then quickly added, "Can you make it down the hill or should I carry you?"

Her cheeks burned in embarrassment as she remembered Jack carrying her at the train station the day before as everyone looked on. Actually, she'd love to be in his arms again, but to tell him that she couldn't walk would be deceitful of her. Regretfully, she told the truth. "There is no need to carry me. I will just take my time."

"I'll help you."

His arm went around her, and when she felt the pressure of his hand splayed on her waist, she was filled with an inner excitement. It was the same fluttery feeling she had been experiencing since the first moment she saw him.

"We'll take it slow," he said.

Her body struck his with every other step she took, but he didn't seem to mind. He kept his promise to go slow, and she trusted him, never fearing that he would let her fall. They laughed until they reached level ground.

# # #

Jack stopped and released his grip on her. The smile left his face when he looked at Sara. She had tears in her eyes. "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?"

"Y-You didn't hurt me, Jack. That was fun. It's been a long time since I've had so much fun."

He put the picnic basket down. Slowly, he cupped her face in his hands. Twin pools of violet met his gaze. He let his callused thumbs wiped the tears of joy from her soft, warm skin. She was so courageous, so full of life. He admired the great inner strength in her slight body, the strength she called upon to challenge herself physically.

He damned himself for making her walk this far, particularly after she had just ridden Seawind. She must be exhausted. He mentally cursed the carriage driver and the horses that caused the horrible accident that left her maimed. And while he was at it, he cursed himself because he was going to use her to his own advantage.

Bending down, he couldn't stop himself from gathering her into his arms and kiss her ever so gently, fearing she would bolt from him like a skittish colt. But she didn't bolt. Instead, she stiffened, then relaxed. Hesitantly, she kissed him back, tentatively at first, then with more passion. He could feel her heart flutter against his, like a butterfly in the field surrounding them.

What am I doing? He broke the kiss and pulled away, remembering that she was the daughter of his enemy–the man who destroyed his family. He was going to use her, that was certainly true, but not use her like this. Not like this.

"I shouldn't have done that," he said. "I apologize."

Her face flushed pink, and Jack wondered if she did so because of passion or embarrassment for enjoying his kiss. Even though he had just chastised himself, he couldn't help but hope that it was both.

"That's correct, Mr. Summers, you shouldn't have done that. I am an engaged woman," she said without much conviction in her voice. She held her chin high and squared her shoulders.

“Ah. . . yes. Engaged to the charming Mr. Fordice.” He snickered. "I guess you must have also forgotten that small matter when you kissed me back, Miss Peterson."

"Humpf."

He laughed, and she joined in after a while. Confident that the light mood between them was restored, he picked up the basket and held his arm out. "Let me show you that spring. It'll make your leg feel better."

"Mr. Summers, you can't actually believe I will bare my leg while you are present. Why that's positively indecent!"

He heard a faint thread of hysteria in her voice. "I'll turn my head, of course."

"Oh, of course," she said quietly.

# # #

Bea almost dropped her parasol in shock. "Clara, I thought you were with Sara at the track!"

The young girl looked at her in astonishment, her feather duster halting in mid-air. "What?"

"Have you seen Sara today?"

"No, I haven't, although I've been dusting the lobby most of the day."

Bea wrung her hands. "Oh dear."

Clara let the feather duster drop to her side. Her eyes were round with concern. "Is something wrong, Miss Bishop? Is Sara all right?"

"I'm sure she's fine. Her father wanted someone to accompany her to the track, that's all. I'm sure Johnson is with her."

Clara shook her head. "I saw Johnson drive into the carriage house a while back, as I was cleaning the windows."

"Then Sara is alone." Beatrix shook her head. "Why that little scamp!"

"What has Sara done?"

"I'm afraid she's embarked on an adventure that could ruin her reputation or incur her father's wrath if she's found out. Possibly both." In spite of the circumstances, she smiled.

Clara was clearly puzzled. "You don't seem upset, Miss Bishop."

"For some reason, I trust the man she's with more than

I trust that idiotic windbag she's suppose to marry."

"Then you think that she's with Jack Summers, the groom?"

Bea nodded.

"She told me about him last night. I think Sara's likes him very much."

"I do, too." An idea flashed in Bea's mind. "Clara, how about if I tell Mr. Tompkins that I need you for a while to help us unpack? Instead, you hurry to the carriage house and have Johnson ready to take us to the stables. I'll be right behind you. We have to get Sara before her father finds out."

"Yes, Miss Bishop."

Bea smiled warmly. "You used to call me Aunt Trixie."

Clara fussed with the handle of the duster and looked down. "I didn't know if you still wanted me to do that. I'm just a maid still and–"

Bea held a hand up to silence her. "You know I don't believe in all that silliness. A friend is a friend. A good person is a good person no matter what their income is or their social standing. That's why I like coming to the Springs. All that meddlesome class system is somewhat forgotten."

Bea took Clara's hand. "You've been a dear friend to Sara for many, many years. Your letters helped her through a very difficult period of time when her mother died and she was recovering." She took the feather duster from the young woman's hand. "Don't you ever say you're just a maid."

Bea reached out and dusted the frame of the painting of the Battle of Waterloo on the lobby wall as Clara doubled over with laughter. "Aunt Trixie, stop! What if someone should see you!"

"Then let them! Now go. Get Johnson ready. I'll take care of Tompkins."

Clara scurried off as Bea turned around to see three faces staring at her in astonishment. They were none other than the formidable Maude Dredmar and her haughty daughters Suzette and Leanne, two silly, spoiled girls.

"Oh, hello, Maude...girls...are you waiting to try dusting?" she said in a mocking tone. "It's really becoming fashionable to dust at the Springs. Here have a try." She thrust the handle of the duster at Maude.

If she lived to be a hundred, she'd never forget the expression on Maude's face as she stared at the foreign object and then looked at the painting, trying to decide what she should do.

Looking over her shoulder as she walked away, Bea half-expected Maude to begin dusting for Maude Dredmar would never tolerate being out of vogue at the Springs. Never.

Maude must have sensed she was being watched for she looked over at Bea. Bea couldn't suppress the laugh that escaped her throat nor the laugh that rumbled up from her toes as she watched Maude throw the duster to the marble floor and storm away with her daughters.

# # #

Sara opened the picnic basket and handed Jack a white linen cloth with the monogram of the United States Hotel in gold. He shook out the folds and let it drift to the thick, rich grass. He helped her to sit down, and he sat down next to her.

From the basket, Sara took out two jars that appeared to be iced tea. Then she found a variety of cheeses, fruit and meats all packed on a block of ice wrapped in brown paper and more linen. She handed Jack two sets of flowered dishes and two sets of silver wrapped in a pink napkin and tied with a yellow ribbon.

She smiled. "Chef Morris packed enough food for ten people."

"Maybe not. He knew it was for you and knows how much you like to eat, although he seemed to know that you'd be sharing your picnic." He chuckled as he helped her to sit down.Laughing, she smoothed out her skirt then handed him a jar of tea. "I think I can spare a small slice of bread and a tiny piece of cheese for you, since I'm watching my weight!"

They joked and ate and passed the time in light conversation about Seawind and other horses in the stable, about the weather and Sara's home near New York City, and whether or not the springs in the area really had curative powers as everyone believed.

"There are about one hundred and seventy-five springs in the area," Jack told her. "Some are saline, some alkaline, some have a high iron content, some are sulfur and many are a combination of these."