Where Love Runs Free (Tales from the Upcountry) (14 page)

Angelina watched as Isabella tenderly
smoothed a lock of hair from Ben’s brow, oblivious to the observation of
others. A pang of guilt stabbed through her gut, and her eyes welled up with
emotion. The painted French clock over the mantle chimed four times, signaling
an alarm inside of her, telling her—warning her—that she had to talk to
Edward—now.

“No, I have some business to
attend to,” she said, her voice sounding very far away.

“Business?” Jessie asked.
“Before supper?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you ain’t got no
business with anyone, ’cept with me in the kitchen puttin’ up them tomatoes,”
Ella snorted. “Where’re you goin’?” Angelina slipped past both Ella and Jessie
and glided down the staircase. “Miss Angelina?” Ella called. “I’m talkin’ to
you, girl!”

But she didn’t dare answer.
If she waited another minute, she might not be able to go through with seeing
Edward again and feeling his dark, empty eyes comb over her. The thought
repulsed her, but she had no choice. She couldn’t bring Mighty Wind back and
help Ben ride the Challenge, but she could make things right. She could get his
land back and keep him from falling into the arms of Isabella and what her
daddy had to offer.

As she saddled Eagle’s Wing
and led the horse through the barn, a shudder went up her spine at the thought
of what Edward would require. A sick, foreboding settled down deep in her heart
as she swung into the saddle and made her way to Rutherford Hall.

Rutherford Hall was one of
the grandest houses in the county, but to Angelina, it was monstrous and
hideous, like its owner. It resembled more of a European castle than a South
Carolina horse farm. The exterior was a marbled combination of brown and gray
stone with very few windows except a few grated portholes across the front and
several large, picture windows overlooking the back garden and the surrounding
fields. The grounds were beautifully manicured by Mason, the butler, and his
crew of housekeepers. Everything from roses and tulips to snapdragons and
irises filled the gardens, but there was no life to any of it. The other farms
around Laurel Grove were surrounded by lush, perennial blooms of azaleas,
impatiens, dogwoods, and live oak trees, with texture and depth to the
plantings that gave the homes character and an old, Southern feel. While
Edward’s house was immaculate in every way, it was void of that timeless beauty
that defined Fairington and Middleton. Every time the big, wooden door creaked
opened, it was as though Angelina was walking into a prison.

“Oh, Miss Raeford!” Mason
said, his dark face lighting up with a big smile that revealed one missing
tooth. “You come at jus’ the right time. Mr. Edward’s on the back terrace
restin’ ’fore he has his supper. Come on in.”

As she stepped across the
threshold, Angelina felt the cold, chill in the air and the echo of emptiness.
The door shut behind her with a boom, reverberating into her bones. “Thank you,
Mason,” she said, trying to steady her nerves. “It is good to see you. You
doing all right?”

“Yes, ma’am. Got a little
back trouble and pain in the knees when it rains, but otherwise, I’m all
right.” She followed him through the expansive foyer that was filled with
Edward’s collection of Italian art, English weaponry, and hunting trophies. A
rich tapestry of a Franciscan monk hung on a mahogany paneled wall near the
staircase, and above it were two sixteenth century French daggers with ivory
handles hanging in a cross pattern. Above the massive, stone fireplace was the
head of a fourteen point stag whose eyes reminded her of Edward’s. Angelina
couldn’t imagine living in such a dreary place.

“That’s good to hear,” she
said, being careful to step around the edge of a black bear-skin rug stretched
out on the floor.

“It’s Mr. Edward who ain’t
all right. Not since you broke off the engagement. He’s been in a mood for
weeks now. Bertie cooked up all his favorite foods and still, he ain’t no
better. I sure hope you plan on settin’ things straight.” He gave her a sad
look, almost pleading with her, which brought on a fresh wave of guilt.

“We’ll see,” she said, trying
her best to smile.

He nodded and turned the
latch to the large, wooden door that led to the terrace. Angelina noticed the
head of a stray nail that had been pounded deep into the wood, a slight
imperfection that had passed Edward’s notice. “I’ll get you a glass of iced
lemonade,” Mason said as he swung the door open.

Angelina wanted to tell him she
wasn’t thirsty, but suddenly, a gust of wind blew through the room, taking her
words with it. A long strand of hair blew across her face, threatening to steal
her resolve, but she simply brushed it behind her ear, took a deep breath, and
stepped outside.

Edward sat in a wooden
plantation chair on the stone terrace with his black riding boots propped up on
the balcony railing, staring out into the open fields. The late afternoon sun
enhanced the color of the lush, green fields, which were bordered by a thick
row of live oaks on either side. A number of horses romped through the grass,
some feeding, while others trained in the rings. The sight of so many sleek,
beautiful animals was breathtaking to Angelina, and yet, there was a cold, deadness
to the setting that mimicked the lifelessness of the house.

Edward didn’t move a muscle
but sat very still with his hands folded in his lap, staring into the distance.
“Well, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

His eyes didn’t deviate from
their cold stare, and for a moment, Angelina wondered if he knew to whom he was
addressing. “Good evening, Edward.”

He finally looked her way and
smiled. The mustache was gone, leaving his face a smooth, golden brown that
made him look years younger. His thick hair was wet and slicked behind his
ears, indicating he had just washed, as evidenced by a waft of talcum powder
that hung in the air. A clean, white shirt was open at the throat with a red,
patterned neck scarf peeking through, and his dark riding trousers were tucked
neatly into his boots, accentuating his long legs. Angelina thought he looked
more like an English lord now than he did at the Promenade.

“Yes, it is a good evening.”
He stood to his feet and came toward her, smiling even more. “Is this business?”
he asked, taking her hand. Then bringing her fingers to his lips he arched one
eyebrow and a soft, warm look flashed through his eyes. “Or pleasure?”

“You know it’s business,” she
said, pulling her hand away before he could make contact.

Immediately, his look
darkened, and the cold stare returned. “I hear your heathen stall-shoveler has
gotten himself into a heap of trouble.”

“Don’t call him that.”

His eyes roamed over her face
and hair, taking a full examination. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“He can’t ride the Challenge
now—you know that—with his horse gone, and his leg all mangled.”

“He was never gonna beat me
at the Challenge,” Edward said, chuckling at this notion. She caught a whiff of
brandy on his breath that smelled like it had just been consumed. “A shame,
though. I figure that means I won’t get the pleasure of seeing him hightail it
out of this town.” He smirked, flashing a set of white teeth. “Doesn’t matter.
I’ll find another way to send him back to those savages he comes from—once and for
all.”

“You’re the savage, Edward
Millhouse.”

“Am I?” His eyes narrowed,
and he stepped closer, drawing her into his arms. She tried to pull away, but
his grip was firm.

“All he wants is his land,”
she said, struggling against him. “You wanna sell it, then sell it to me.”

Edward tossed his head back
and laughed. “You? I’m not gonna sell it to you. I know for a fact you can’t
afford it.”

“You don’t know what I can’t
afford.” She pushed him away, finally getting free. “Two hundred dollars an
acre is what I heard from Sam Turner. I’ve already talked to my bankers, and
they say I can borrow against Fairington with no trouble. They say they can
draw up the papers in about a week.”

“Well,” he said, returning to
his plantation chair and easing into the seat. He propped his boots back on the
balcony railing and stared out into distance once more. “That was
before
.”

“Before what?”

“Before you went off
half-cocked, deciding you wanted to end our wedding engagement.”

“Don’t use that kind of
language with me—”

“Your little charade made the
price go up, sky-high,” he said, ignoring her objection.

“Why do you care about that
land? It’s sat there for years, wasting away,” she said, aware that her voice
was taking on a shrill, high-pitched tone. “Everyone knows how you got it in
the first place, even if you do say you bought it fair and square.” Her eyes
bore down with a hard look, wanting to shame him into a confession. She had
ignored the rumors floating around town about Edward and Ben’s mother and had
never wanted to listen, purposely closing her ears. But now, for some reason,
she knew—Edward Millhouse had done a terrible thing. “Don’t think you’re gonna
get away with evil and not pay. Everyone knows what you did. The Lord knows.”

“That’s enough, now.” He
stood to his feet and grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her close so that she
could see the fire leap from his eyes. “You’ve been listening to too much of
that heathen Indian talk,” he said, his jaw pulsating.

Angelina stared into his dark
expression, thinking he might strike her. She tried to read his thoughts, but
it was like they were hidden behind a thick, black veil. “If it’s the money you
want—”

“You know what I want.” His
breath was on her cheek, and then his mouth latched on to hers, pressing down
with a firmness that frightened her. She tried to breathe, but his hands were
on the back of her neck, pulling her closer, suffocating her, like she was
drowning in a pool of deep, cold water. “Oh, Angel—you know I could make you
happy—”

“No,” she groaned, trying to
get free. “You will never make me happy.” She scrunched up her face and buried
her cheek into his shoulder, sickened by what stirred within her. She pounded
on his arms, but still, he refused to let her go. Then looking into his eyes,
she saw something that resembled hurt or perhaps a trace of torture. She was
glad she could wound him—it gave her a fleeting moment of pleasure, even though
she knew it was wrong and unchristian. “You will never have my heart,” she
whispered.

“I don’t want your heart,” he
said, pushing her away. “Just what comes with it.”

“I know how much you want
Fairington.”

“And why shouldn’t I want
Fairington? It’s the best horse land around,” he said, his look roaming over
her once more, settling on her waist and then her face. “And I always get the
best.”

“You won’t get one ounce of
dirt from Fairington,” she hissed. “Not while I’m alive.”

“We’ll see.” His eyes
glistened as he smirked in a way that made him look like that leathery old man
she encountered at the Promenade. “Jessie owns half. I’ve seen the way she’s
been coming around, being friendly, reporting back to you—I’m not ignorant of
your schemes. She’s a pretty little thing, and I do think she likes what she
sees. Could be I’ve been courting the wrong sister this whole time.”

“Jessie leaves all the
business of Fairington to me. You know that.”

“Well, that could change.”

Angelina grit her teeth and
glared at him. “You stay away from her!”

“Then you do what you agreed.
Wear my ring and be my wife.”

“No—”

“And allow
me
to run
Fairington, as
I
see fit.”

“I will never marry you.”

“I can make Fairington
everything you’ve dreamed it could be—the finest horse farm in the country,” he
said, his words dripping from his tongue like honey. “And you’ll be there with
me, by my side. We’ll have children, and a family, trips to Europe—whatever you
want.” He drew close and caressed her arm. “I’ll give you that old run-down
strip of farmland outright. And he can do what he wants with it, I don’t care.
Turns out it’s only good for seed and raising pigs, if that.” She stared at
him, trying to figure out if he seriously expected her to consider his request.
“You can’t change me on this one, Angelina. I’ve already heard from Isaac
Richardson and he’s prepared to pay me three hundred an acre.”

“You can’t sell it to him.”

Edward shrugged his shoulders
and said, “Seems Isabella’s got the same taste in heathen half-breeds as you
do. And you know how Isaac is—she’s all he’s got now. He’ll do whatever it
takes for his little girl.” His look was sinister now, almost evil. A chill
passed over her, as if she was in the presence of a demonic spirit.

“I’ll never forgive you if
you do that, Edward Millhouse. You sell that land to Isaac Richardson and you
will never set foot on Fairington again. And I mean it!”

“Well, then—looks like you
only have one choice.” He reached for her hand and the engagement ring was
there, resting in his palm.

She stared at the diamond,
noticing the sparkle of the stone and how it glistened in the light. Even
though it was familiar to her, it seemed foreign all the same—an object of evil
that must be removed. With a wild jerk, she turned away, fighting to keep from
tossing it in his face. But as much as she wanted to run away, something
wouldn’t let her.

“Angelina.” His voice was
calm and void of emotion as his fingers dug into her arm. “Look at me.” Fear
gripped her heart as she stared into his dark eyes, thinking of what life would
be like married to him. It was what she had wanted, so long ago. And she
could’ve tolerated it if Ben had never returned to Fairington. But the
possibility of being Mrs. Edward Millhouse and then seeing Ben in passing
during trips to town or at horse shows and events—and with another woman like
Isabella on his arm—was more than she could bear.

Edward stiffened and stood up
straight and tall, staring back at her with a look that meant he was serious,
and this was the last time the offer would be made. “Take it,” he said, holding
the ring toward her.

“No,” she whispered.

He drew her in his arms where
there was no escape from the scent of brandy and talcum powder that hovered
over her like a dense fog. He caressed a lock of curls that fell over her
shoulder as he kissed her lightly on the cheek. “You know you could never be
with a man like him.” His fingers stroked her neck, and the touch was firm and
hard. Raising an eyebrow, he waited for her to agree. “’Cause you were meant
for me.”