The Baron (12 page)

“Halley,” Nick said as they reached the stone gates to the Thorne Estate. “I have a bunch of business details to attend to tomorrow, and tomorrow night I want to see some friends who live a few miles away.” Mostly he wanted to see Halley, but for reasons he couldn’t quite come to grips with yet, he wanted to stop by to see the Melroses.
Needed
to do that. It was a new need, and it felt strangely comfortable and right. He strongly suspected that Halley was the reason he suddenly wanted to attend to his life connections, but he didn’t wish to subject the whole thing to analysis. Not yet, anyway. He’d simply go with the feelings, spend more time out at the Melroses’ place, and see what happened.

Halley nodded. “That’s okay, Nick. I know you have a life beyond the walls of the Thorne Estate Library.” She
knew
it but found it difficult to think about.

“Will you miss me?” He stopped the car at the bottom of the steps.

Halley blushed and pulled her glasses out of her purse.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Go for the glasses when you don’t want to answer me.”

She slipped them on and laughed lightly, then pushed down on the door handle. “Now that’s not true at all, Nick. I fully intend to answer you. I just want to see you.”

Nick reached over and held the door secure while he waited. His eyes sparkled with laughter. “Okay. Say it. Tell me you’ll miss me.”

Halley tilted her head to one side and smiled calmly.
“All right. Yes, I’ll miss you. I’ve become very used to having you around, Nick Harrington, though I can’t imagine why. So I’ll miss you. There, I’ve said it.” He was still holding on to her door, and his face was close to hers—close enough, she thought vaguely, to kiss if she was so inclined.

“That’s it?”

“What do you mean, ‘that’s it’?”

“I mean, aren’t you going to try to convince me to stop by, even for just a moment or two?”

Halley feigned an irritated expression. “No. I’ve survived a day without food before, I’m sure I can manage this somehow …” Her voice grew softer as she noticed a slight mist on her glasses.

His smile moved closer.

“Oh,” she murmured.

“Mmmm,” he said.

When his lips slanted hungrily across hers, and his hand heatedly caressed her cheek, Halley felt a rush of tender passion that convinced her, no matter what Nick said, that there
must
have been something in that crab salad.

Halley walked down the back steps of the library the next afternoon and watched the groups of parents and elderly citizens gathering around the gazebo. Friday. The busiest day of the week, and she was wandering around like a spoiled princess getting nothing done.

Nick might as well have come, she thought as she automatically picked up a piece of paper littering the ground and shoved it in her pocket. His presence was as real to her as he would have been if she could reach out and feel the wonderful, muscular bulk of him. It wasn’t enough that she truly
did
miss seeing him. The images of Nick that filled her mind were confusing and passionate and disconnected and wonderful all at the same time. What
was
it about him that sent off warning signals? He was so right … and so wrong. Yin and yang. She had no idea why, but she knew one thing: It wasn’t what was
said
that was causing the alarms but what
wasn’t
said.

“Halley,” Archie called from the gazebo, “it’s time to proceed.”

“Coming in a minute, Archie. Start without me
and I’ll catch up,” she called back, and hurried around the corner of the massive building to drop the waste-paper in the trash can. In her dazed state she’d almost forgotten that it was the last Friday of the month—Community Day. Archie planned special games for the young kids, which the older folks loved watching, and he always included some kind of a special treat. Today it was to be a lesson in gravestone rubbings out at the old cemetery, and she’d promised him she would show up for part of it.

“Hello.”

Halley yelped like a frightened puppy and dropped the handful of paper to the ground.

“Halley, Halley.” Nick held her gently by the shoulders. “I didn’t take you for the nervous sort. It’s only me.”

“Nick,” she managed feebly, a flush of embarrassment coating her neck. “I … well, it’s a bit like seeing a ghost. Or having a thought suddenly jump out of your mind and look you in the eye—”

“You were thinking of me?” Pleased laughter spilled from his black eyes.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, hedging.

“No, and I can only stay one hour. I forgot to ask you something yesterday, so I came by do to it today.”

“It must be something momentous to require an hour,” she said teasingly.

“Would you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

His hands were still on her shoulders, and Halley felt the gentle heat of his touch begin to circle through her. “Dinner? That sounds very nice, Nick.”

“Good. It’s kind of a family affair. I’d like to show you off.”

Halley gulped, then pulled off her glasses. “There’s even more, isn’t there? That’s why you saved a whole hour to ask me—”

“No.” Nick laughed, and when it rumbled up from
deep in his throat, Halley could feel it in her fingertips. “Absolutely not. I saved an hour because I
have
an hour—wedged in between work and visiting the Melroses—and there’s nowhere I’d rather spend my hour than right here with you.”

Halley smiled softly. “Oh. Well, that’s nice, Nick.” Beyond his shoulder she spotted Archie’s group heading for the cemetery. “But as much as I’d like to, I can’t, Nick. I promised Archie …” She pointed toward the group of people disappearing beyond the rise in the distance.

“No problem. I’ll come too. It wouldn’t be my first choice of places to spend a valued sixty minutes with you, but I’ll settle for what I can get.”

His arm went around her shoulder naturally, and just as naturally Halley lifted her hand and wound her fingers lightly in his where they rested near her neck. “Lead the way,” he whispered into the loose strands of her hair that rubbed against his cheek.

They headed across the yard at a leisurely pace, intending to catch up but reluctant to hurry.

“What’s up with Archie?” Nick asked as they walked beneath the tangled branches of ancient elm trees.

“Archie is about to give the Friday Community Club—which is a loose assortment of people between the ages of five and eighty-five who happen to be free on the last Friday of each month—a lesson in gravestone rubbing.”

“Hmm.” Nick considered her words. “The only rubbing I can imagine, Halley, is something I’d like to do with you.”

Halley swung her hip playfully into his. “This is serious business, Harrington. Shape up now.”

“May I wait until we get there?” His fingers slipped from hers and walked down across the slight rise of her breast.

“Nick!” Halley said, but no reprimand found its way into the hushed exclamation.

The clipped rhythm of small feet running across crisp leaves separated them in an instant.

“Well, hi, Mickey!” Halley said, brushing her hair off her cheek and calming the fleet of unleashed butterflies in her stomach.

The small boy ran up and happily wedged himself between them. “I’m late, Aunt Halley. You too! Hi, Nick,” he added shyly.

“Hello, Mickey,” Nick said.

The youngster grinned up at Nick, then reached instinctively for his hand.

Halley watched curiously. At first Nick looked surprised, then uncomfortable. Mickey didn’t notice and simply grinned and tugged Nick’s arm until he could grasp firmly on to his fingers. Then he bounced along contentedly beside him. When Halley finally caught Nick’s eye, all she could detect were dwindling traces of the passion Mickey had dampened so quickly, and the odd uncomfortableness. Well, she thought as she smiled regretfully at him, so her Baron wasn’t very used to children. Most bachelors probably weren’t. It took exposure, that’s all.

“Mickey is explaining gravestone rubbings to me,” he said solemnly over the sandy curls covering the youngster’s head. Halley nodded, and they walked toward the group of people gathered around Archie in the small cemetery.

Nick was still ill at ease, Halley could see. “Mickey’s an expert at this,” Halley said.

“It seems like a strange pastime,” Nick answered.

They walked up to the edge of the crowd, and when Mickey left them to crouch down in the front row, Halley looped her arm through Nick’s and squeezed his hand. “Nice to have you back again,” she whispered in the brief second before Archie hushed them all and began his short lecture.

“This is Whisper Cloud’s grave,” Archie explained carefully and thoughtfully, so the kids wouldn’t miss
a word, “She was a brave Indian maid who lived many, many years ago.” He pointed to the dates on the gravestone.

As Nick and Halley listened, the kindly hobo retold the tale of the young girl and how she courageously left her family to travel many, many miles through a devastating winter to bring back medicine for the tribe.

Then he showed them how to place their paper on the letters of the gravestone and rub with the lead until the words appeared in relief.

“Mr. Harrington will try it first.” Archie swept the air with his hand, motioning for Nick to step up to the gravestone.

Nick was startled at first, then walked toward Archie, looking, Halley thought, as if he were afraid to step on something he shouldn’t. When he reached the gravestone, he seemed reluctant to touch it. She stood still, watching the incongruous scene: the tall, handsome man whose strength was visible in his very stance, hesitant to participate in the children’s exercise. Then, for just a fraction of a second, she saw pain in his eyes.

Halley was stunned.

“We rub with even pressure,” Archie explained in a gravelly voice, and the moment passed.

“You did very well,” she said, smiling up at Nick when he returned to her side.

“I’m a quick learner.” He returned the smile, and Halley breathed easily again. Perhaps it had been her imagination playing tricks on her.

They passed from grave to grave, with Archie filling the youngsters’ minds with wonderful, colorful stories, and they in turn carefully rubbed meaningful epitaphs off the gravestones to take home with them where they’d retell the stories to brothers and sisters and parents.

“How does he know so much?” Nick asked.

Halley grinned proudly. “The Thorne Estate Library reading room. He’s a smart man, and living here where he can nourish his mind sure beats skid row.”

Nick thought about that for a minute, and then, as the group started to walk back to the library, he held Halley back with a quick, sudden hug.

She smiled. “What’s that for?”

“Things. Things you do. And are.”

Halley slipped her hand into his and walked on. They kept several yards behind the others, close enough to hear, far enough to be lost in their own world.

“Well,” Halley said as they approached the gazebo, “I guess you have to go.”

Nick glanced at his watch. “I have twenty-seven minutes left. Are you trying to get rid of me?” He traced a finger along the lovely rise of her cheekbone. He couldn’t remember when minutes started being so important to him, but he knew it was a recent phenomenon. Minutes were things to get through, to savor, but now Halley had him counting minutes and seconds, and each one with her was becoming more and more special.

“Of course I don’t. But—”

“Hey, you two!’ Mickey yelled as he skidded to a stop at Nick’s feet. “Wanna have a sack race with us?”

Halley pulled away quickly.

“A sack race?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, it’s great!” Mickey assured him. “It’s the last activity for the Friday Club. Aunt Halley?”

“We’ll see. Run along, Mick,” Halley said with a smile.

“Sack race?” Nick furrowed his brow and swung her hand lightly.

“Well, it’s kind of a tradition,” Halley reluctantly explained. “The kids like it when I join in with someone
as my partner. They like to beat me is what they like to do,” she said with a laugh.

“What do we do?”

“Well, the partners get in a sack together—”

Nick’s eyes lit up, and he laughed with enthusiasm. “Now you’re talking! Count me in.”

“A potato sack! And mind your manners, Mr. Harrington. I’m ticklish!”

The raggedy line of contestants was already formed when they got there, two small, wiggling bodies in each huge burlap sack. Archie ceremoniously handed them the last one. “Here you are. Now we shall see which generation is more adept.”

“Hah!” Halley said, and climbed in beside Nick. “We accept the challenge.”

They drew the rough fabric up around their waists and tied it firmly, while Archie fashioned two fingers into a mighty whistle that Joe Finnegan always claimed he could hear clear over in his shop.

“Ladies and gentlemen, on your marks,” he bellowed loudly.

“I think I’m going to like this,” Nick whispered into Halley’s ear.

“How could you have gotten through childhood without sack races?” Halley asked, trying to ignore the tight press of his thigh against hers.

“How I got through puberty without you is more the question.”

“Nick, get your mind on the right track!”

“In the sack, you mean?”

Halley groaned.

“Get set,” Archie intoned, and when he brought his fingers to his lips and blew gustily into the clear air, the race began in earnest.

Mickey and his partner took an early lead, followed closely by the seven other youthful sack racers, while Halley and Nick attempted their first hop. “Come on, Nick, together now!” Halley shouted above
the noise of the laughing kids and the senior citizens and parents who had settled on the grass to watch.

Finally Nick got the hang of it, and the two hopped sluggishly across the lawn. “Hey, I think I could get good at this!” Nick yelled breathlessly. The feel of her body pulled close to him was wonderful; he reveled in having her hips and the long length of her leg pressed against him. He looked ahead and saw the line of kids turning around at the edge of a wooded area and heading back to the finish line. Nick picked up a little speed.