The Ring on Her Finger (34 page)

He looked even more handsome than she recalled, dressed in a pair of faded Levi’s and a navy blue polo that hugged his lean chest and biceps. She opened her mouth to tell him he wasn’t welcome here, then remembered that here didn’t belong to her. So she turned her back on him and said softly, “Mr. Cove was called out of town yesterday and won’t be back until Tuesday. You might want to try back then.”

“I didn’t come to see Justin, Rosemary. I came to see you.”

A spray of heat lashed her belly, and she cursed herself for letting him get to her. “Why would you want to see me?” she asked without turning around.

He emitted a single, unhappy chuckle. “There are so many reasons, I don’t know where to begin. But mostly, because I miss you.”

That spray of heat in her midsection became a ribbon of warmth at his declaration, one that wound indolently through her entire body. She did her best to ignore it.

“And also because I owe you an apology,” he added. “Not that an apology will ever make up for what I did to you.”

No, it wouldn’t, Rosemary thought. But it was a start.

“And because I want to try and explain. Because I can’t stop thinking about you. Because my life feels pointless without you. And because...” He hesitated, then finished, very softly, “Because I love you.”

She whipped around at that, fixing him with an incredulous look.

“Any of those sound like reasons you might want to hear?” He smiled, but she could tell he was uncertain about what his reception might be.

Good. He had no right to feel certain about anything. Especially when she felt anything but certain herself.

“Maybe,” she said. “I suppose I might listen to an explanation or an apology. Not that I’ll necessarily accept either,” she quickly added when she saw his expression turn hopeful. Why should he feel hopeful after dashing every last one of hers?

He took a few indecisive steps forward, halting when he was within arm’s length of her. Rosemary took a step backward, until her fanny bumped the stall door. The action must have startled the mare, because she whinnied softly and moved away. Rosemary didn’t blame her. She felt like retreating, too. Someplace where she could try and work out what her feelings for Nathaniel were.

He took another step forward, bringing himself within arm’s length again. This time, Rosemary had nowhere to go. Strangely, that didn’t bother her as much as it probably should.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Up close this way, she saw that his lovely green eyes were troubled, smudged beneath by faint purple crescents. Obviously, she wasn’t the only one who was having trouble sleeping.

“I know that’s hardly an apology for what I did, but, Rosemary, I am sorry.”

She dipped her head imperiously. “All right. That’s the apology. Now let’s hear the explanation.”

He expelled another restless sound and shook his head. “I wish I could give you one that made sense. I’ve spent the last two weeks trying to figure it out myself, and I just... I never should have gone along with Justin’s wager,” he said lamely.

“No, you shouldn’t. A gentleman...any decent man,” she amended, “never would have.”

“I wasn’t a decent man,” he said. “I was the Bad Boy of the Thoroughbred Racing Set. Everybody said so.” He smiled sadly. “Everybody but you.”

He lifted a hand to her face, hesitating before touching her, to see if she would pull away. When she didn’t, he traced his fingertips lightly along her cheek. Rosemary closed her eyes and tried not to think about the night she told him he wasn’t a bad man. But the memories tumbled through her head one by one, and she remembered all too well.

“You know, the night you told me that, Rosemary, I actually believed you. Because that night, I wasn’t a bad man. The whole time I was with you, I wasn’t a bad man. I couldn’t be. Not if a woman like you could care for me.”

She opened her eyes, wanting to believe him, but was still too wary to allow herself. She’d been wrong about him once. Hadn’t she? She couldn’t risk being wrong again.

“You did care about me, didn’t you?” he asked, his voice sounding uncertain again.

She nodded, unable to help herself. His fingers tripped along her cheek, her jaw, and her neck, stirring hot little fires in their wake.

“Do you still?” he asked.

Rosemary couldn’t make herself lie. She nodded silently again.

“I care about you, too.”

He started to say more, and she feared he would tell her he loved her again, and she wasn’t ready to hear it. Hearing it before she believed it would only make it harder for her to accept. He seemed to understand her uneasiness, so he went back to trying to explain.

“I wasn’t thinking the night I made the bet with Justin. Truth be told, though, even if I had been, I still would have accepted it. I wouldn’t have cared about how it affected anyone but me. Hell, I never did any thinking or caring back then.” He laughed nervously. “It sounds like I’m talking about a long time ago, when it was really only a matter of weeks.”

He turned his hand and grazed her cheekbone with the backs of his knuckles, stirring a sweet wanting deep in her belly.

“But that’s just the point,” he continued, his voice softer now. “It was a long time ago. It was before I met you. Meeting you changed everything. Because meeting you changed me. The way I started to feel about you... I’d never felt that way about anyone. And once I started feeling that way... I felt different about myself. I felt different about everything. Before you came along, Rosemary, nothing was important to me. But after you came along...”

“After that?” she prodded when his voice trailed off.

He smiled, and for the first time, there was a hint of happiness in it. “After that, you were important. You became everything to me.”

She told herself not to believe him. But why he would come here and say these things, unless they were true? He’d won his wager with Justin Cove. He had what he wanted, a pocket full of money. He had nothing to gain by being here, opening himself up so completely. Nothing except her.

“You were right that morning when you told me I didn’t value anything I have. After you walked out, I couldn’t think of a single thing in my life that, if I lost it, I would feel badly about it. Except you. The thought of losing you, Rosemary...” He took another step forward, lifting his other hand, framing her face in both of them. “I can’t imagine my life without you. I can imagine it without anything else. But not without you.”

She felt herself swaying toward him and quickly jerked herself back. She didn’t need him muzzying up her thinking and keeping her from being as outraged as she knew she should be.

“That’s easy for a man to say when he’s just pocketed four million dollars.”

“There was nothing easy about that four million, believe me. And I didn’t pocket it,” he added.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You let Mr. Cove keep the money and the horse?”

“Hell, no, I didn’t let him keep the money. I took the winnings that were due me.”

Her heart sank again at the memory. “If you didn’t pocket it, then what did you do with it?”

At first, she didn’t think he was going to tell her, and that made her feel sadder still. Then, as if he were embarrassed by what he’d done, he said, “I divvied it up between all the Catholic churches in Derry.”

Rosemary’s mouth dropped open at that. “You gave away four million dollars? To churches?”

He nodded, still looking self-conscious. “The money didn’t have any value to me. Hell, it cost me the biggest loss of my life. But I figured it would be worth a lot to some of the people where you come from, you know? Maybe it could help ease some of their losses or something.”

She shook her head mutely, having no idea what to say. Nathaniel took another step forward, seeming a bit less uncertain now about what he was doing. He cupped his hands over her shoulders, his gaze meeting hers.

“There is nothing, Rosemary...and no one...I care about more than you. I’d give away everything I own if it would win you back. No matter how much I have, without you, it’s worthless. I’m destitute without you. I love you,” he said again, more adamantly this time. “I’ve never loved any woman, but I do love you. Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it. I just...” He sounded almost desperate when he added, “You have to believe me when I tell you I want to be with you forever.”

Rosemary studied him closely, still not sure what to think. She knew what she felt, but she didn’t trust those feelings. Not just yet.

“Did you really give all that money to the Catholic churches in Derry?”

He moved a hand to the back of her neck, halting his fingers at the hair she had coiled at her nape. “Yes.”

“If I call your accountant, he’ll verify that?”

“She can show you the cancelled checks when they come back.” He moved his other hand down her arm, around her shoulders, pulling her close.

“Do you really love me?” she asked.

“I really do.” His voice was softer, gentler than she had ever heard from him. He splayed his hand over the small of her back, cupping his other lightly over her nape, and she felt the warmth of his touch all the way to her core.

“And you really can’t imagine your life without me?” she asked.

“I really can’t.”

“You want to be with me forever?”

“I do.”

She smiled at the words. “Why, Mr. Finn, that almost sounds like a marriage proposal.”

“Almost?” he echoed. “Then I must not be doing it right.”

Her eyes went wide. Was that what he really wanted? Was it what she wanted? She hadn’t been able to think past working everything out with him. Clearly, Nathaniel had every intention of working everything out, whatever it took. So the question now was, Did she?

Well, that was one question. The other one was, “Just what exactly are you saying?”

He smiled with great assurance, his confidence obviously having returned. “Marry me,” he said, this time making it a mandate instead of a question.

Rosemary narrowed her eyes playfully. “Don’t be thinking you can order me around now, Mr. High-and-Mighty Finn, just because I’m to be Mrs. High-and-Mighty Finn.”

Only when she said it did she realize he hadn’t been confident of her reply at all. Because his smile went brilliant enough to warm all the places inside her that had gotten so cold in his absence. Oh, yes. The High-and-Mighty Finns definitely had a bright future ahead of them. Provided Mr. Finn got a few things straight right now.

“And just because I’m to be Mrs. High-and-Mighty Finn,” she said imperiously, “don’t be thinking I’ll quit my job, because I won’t. Abby needs me, and I intend to be there for her as long as she does. I love her like my own.”

“Can I at least have you on the weekends?”

She grinned. “When you can have me, Mr. Finn, depends.”

“On what?”

“You still have a lot to answer for, boyo. It’s going to be a good, long while before I’ve forgiven you for what you did. I see much groveling in your future.”

“I’ll start right away,” he vowed. “Just as soon as I’ve kissed you within an inch of your life.”

And before she could sputter a response to that, he did.

It wasn’t until suppertime that Rosemary discovered what happened at Harborcourt earlier in the day, and how Lucy French, housekeeper, turned out to be Lucinda Hollander, heiress. Or perhaps Lucinda Hollander, murderess, as Alexis Cove insisted before voicing her horror that they’d housed a killer in their home. Rosemary, of course, took exception, even if she kept it to herself. For one thing, Lucy hadn’t stayed in the house proper, so Alexis hadn’t exactly had her in the Cove home. For another thing, Alexis ought to worry more about the morals and convictions of other people she’d housed at Harborcourt, starting with herself and Mr. Cove. There was no way Rosemary would ever believe Lucy killed anyone. She was much too kind and caring.

The heiress part, however... That Rosemary believed. There had been that conversation the two women shared where Lucy herself revealed that her family was wealthy. Rosemary had assumed she simply estranged herself from her loved ones, for whatever reason she might have had. Recalling some of the wealthy families Rosemary had known, she could think of more than a few reasons why one might want to estrange oneself. She knew Lucy had been happy enough at Harborcourt not to want to return home. Now that she realized Lucy had in fact been here because she was hiding out to escape an arrest for murder, well...

Actually, that changed nothing. The murder charge was ridiculous. Rosemary was confident Lucy would be proven innocent of any such malarkey. And once she was proven innocent of such malarkey, she would return to Harborcourt. This, Rosemary also knew. Lucy had friends here. In a way, Lucy even had family here. She had Max, and she had Rosemary, and she had bonded with Abby in a way that would never allow her to abandon the little girl. Lucy French might be many things—not the least of which was Lucinda Hollander, a totally different person—but she wasn’t one to turn her back on those who cared about her. Lucy would come back to Harborcourt. Rosemary had no doubt of that.

Still, Abby and Max probably wouldn’t be quite so philosophical as she was. Abby would have trouble because she was an eight-year-old. Max would have trouble because he was a man, and therefore the equivalent of an eight-year-old. Abby, however, would eventually come around, once Rosemary explained things and promised Lucy would be back. Max wouldn’t be quite so easily convinced.

Men, fragile creatures that they were, could never be philosophical when it came to things like murder and lies and abandonment. So, after supper, Rosemary put together a plate of food and made her way to the carriage house.

She wasn’t surprised when Max didn’t answer her first knock. Or her second. Or her third. Or her fourth, fifth, or sixth. Which was why she began to kick at the door after that, and shout, “Max, you idiot, answer the damned door!” until he complied with her request.

He looked wretched and unhappy when he opened the door. “Whattayawant?” he growled.

“I’ve brought you your supper,” Rosemary told him calmly.

“Don’t want it,” he said, pushing the door closed again.