Betina Krahn (26 page)

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Early the next afternoon, Bear sat propped against a thick tree trunk on a blanket placed to overlook Gracemont’s picturesque orchards. The air was still sweet with the remnants of apple blossoms and the linen cloth at his feet was littered with the remnants of a sumptuous picnic meal. Diamond lay beside him on the blanket, warm and openly content in the dappled sunlight pouring through the tree limbs. Her face was alluring in its softness and as he watched he felt that curious ache spreading through his chest again.

It had started last night when he entered the bedroom and saw her on the bench before her mirror clutching her nightgown under her chin, her eyes huge and uncertain. And it had continued through a steamy night and into the cool of dawn … through the pleasure of watching her rise and dress and share with him the endearing intimacies of the ordinary. He had never really watched a woman brushing her hair or selecting a dress for the day or slipping stockings over her toes and up her legs. And he had certainly never seen a woman as beautiful as Diamond walking naked across a room toward him … her arms open and her eyes glowing with invitation.

He marveled at the astonishing transformation in her as she came through their wedding night. And he was still more in awe of the way she had placed her trust in him, and the serious way he had responded to that trust.

“Well, Mrs. McQuaid, what do you think of married life?” he asked.

“Well, Mr. McQuaid, I think it’s a lot like being rich.” She rolled onto her stomach, propped her head on her palm, and regarded him with a twinkle in her eye. “For every problem it creates, it also creates an opportunity. The best way to get along in such a situation is to concentrate on the opportunities. And I have to say”—she rolled
her eyes—“the kind of currency involved in marriage is a lot more interesting.”

He laughed and shook his head as he reached for her, drawing her against his side and into his arms. “Who but you would think of marriage in such terms: ‘the currency involved in marriage.’ You sound like a real tycoon.”

“Heaven forbid.” She feigned horror. “Anything but a tycoon or a magnate or a shipping baron. Just plain heiress is bad enough.”

“You bear the burdens of wealth and privilege well,” he said dryly.

“When wealth becomes this large, it
is
a burden,” she said, nuzzling her cheek against his chest and hearing his heartbeat in the brief silence.

“And so you decided simply to give it all away,” he said, teasing her.

“Exactly,” she responded.

In the next silence, Diamond marveled at the ease with which she’d just admitted her deepest, darkest secret. Everything seemed so easy with Bear, even confessions long in the making.

“Funny. I’ve never told anyone that before,” she said quietly.

“What? That you—” He frowned, unsure of what he was hearing.

“Tried to give all my money away,” she finished for him, unable to look up at him just now. “It all started when I was thirteen. My father had just died and Hardwell and Hannah came to take care of me. They were afraid I would grow up spoiled and vain, and so tried to instill in me a sense of responsibility toward others. I simply saw it as a chance to get rid of the money.

“The cursed stuff made my life miserable. I couldn’t go to school, seldom got to play with other children, and at first they wouldn’t even let me learn to ride for fear something
would happen to me. I reasoned that if I gave the money away … I could have a normal life and do the things other children did.”

“Clearly, your plan didn’t work.”

She nodded ruefully. “I gave away what I could, then after a while, I realized I could get rid of even more by investing in businesses. I began to make loans and buy impossible-sounding inventions and ideas. People heard of my ‘generosity’ and began to plague me every time I appeared in public. I ended up more limited than ever. Worse yet—several of my lunatic investments began to make money. Lots of money. In fact, the more I gave away, the more I seemed to make. I became known as the local soft touch.” She looked up and found him staring at her with the strangest expression.

“You can’t tell me you don’t like giving money away,” he charged. “I’ve seen you do it. You enjoy it.”

“I admit that as I grew older I began to focus more on ‘giving’ than ‘giving away.’ I saw and liked the results of my donations and purchases. I saw the way people’s lives and conditions changed and realized that my money could be a route to making life better for people. Progress. And I had the power to make Progress happen. After a while, my heart and my head finally caught up with my actions. I learned what it was to truly give.”

After a moment, he touched her face and looked deep into her heart … then closed his eyes.

“You’re a wonder, Diamond Wingate.”

“Diamond Wingate
McQuaid
,” she reminded him, with a playful jab in the ribs. “And I’m not a wonder … just a bit of a soft touch.”

Hannah had refreshments waiting in the drawing room when they returned to the house, walking hand in hand, swinging the picnic basket, looking somewhat disheveled and thoroughly enchanted. Robbie, who had complained loudly about being barred from their picnic, came bounding in to see them and attack the cookies and finger sandwiches on the tea cart.

Bear watched him stuffing his mouth until his cheeks bulged and then climbing up onto the settee to sit cross-legged, dirty shoes and all. When he looked up and spotted Bear’s narrowed eyes, Robbie froze. With the motion of one lone finger, Bear both ordered his feet down from the upholstery and warned him against another raid on the refreshments.

“Smart fellow,” Bear said in a quiet voice. “Got to keep your feet off the furniture if you want to get along with the ladies.” Then he winked.

Eager to stay on Bear’s good side, Robbie posted himself beside his new cousin and watched and imitated every move Bear made. Diamond watched the pair for a time,
thinking about that astonishing demonstration of power. Looking from Bear’s magical index finger to her own, she wondered if the ability were bred in the bone or if a body could somehow learn to do it.

“Oh, I almost forgot, Bear,” she said rising from the tea table and setting her cup on the tray. “I have something for you.”

He watched her disappear through the doorway into the hall and return shortly with a ribbon-bound pasteboard box. When she held it out to him, he made no move to take it.

“What is this?” he asked, dread tensing his shoulders and mood.

“A gift.” She thrust it closer to him and he recoiled. “A wedding gift.” He seemed so shocked that she felt compelled to assure him: “It’s commonly done between a bride and a groom.”

A gift. A
wedding
gift. Coming from her lips, those words sank straight to the core of his conscience. His self-serving logic and the self-interest it was constructed on began a slow, mortifying crumble. Red crept up his neck and brightened his ears.

“I have everything I need.”

Now, his conscience added. Since he had married the richest girl in Baltimore. Since he and Vassar had sat down five days ago and hammered out documents that would allow him to take three hundred thousand dollars on loan from the combined Wingate assets. Since Halt had left for Montana the following day with letters of credit and cash money orders that would allow him to close the deals for their right-of-way land.

“I’m fairly sure you don’t have one of these,” she said with a tentative smile. “Go on. Open it.”

“I can’t accept a gift from you, Diamond.” He set the
box down on the seat beside him and rose to deposit his cup on the tea table. His hand shook.

“Don’t be silly. This is something you’ll like. Something you’ll use. Something you need.” Seeing that her words made no dent in his determination, she picked up the box and carried it to him at the table. Holding it out, she delivered an ultimatum. “I’m not going to sleep tonight until you open this.”

“What makes you think I want you to sleep tonight?” he said, raising one eyebrow, hoping to divert her.

She blushed, just as he planned. But in truth, he was the one who felt embarrassed. How could he have known that she expected a gift from him? When he met her gaze for a moment, the anxiousness in her blue eyes struck him as oddly girlish. Standing there with her hair wind-teased and her cheeks glowing from an afternoon with him in the sun, she was the embodiment of every boyhood dream he’d ever harbored.

“I can’t accept anything from you, Diamond.”

“And why not?”

With his conscience groaning and his pride burning under Hardwell’s and Hannah’s eyes, he determined to be honest with her, at least in this.

“I had no idea you would expect to exchange gifts.” His face began to blaze. “I didn’t get you anything.”

“Exchange? As in ‘trade gifts’?” She smiled and wagged her head with exaggerated patience, and looked to Hardwell and Hannah for sympathy. They smiled back. “A real gift is given to enlarge the heart of the giver and to gladden the heart of the receiver, not because a gift is expected in return.” She thrust the box against his chest. “Open it.” When he didn’t move, she added: “It’s all right. Really. I give things to people all the time without expecting anything.”

If those words were meant to reassure him, they failed
miserably. They merely reminded him of how she gave and gave to others and got nothing in return except the “satisfaction of giving.” And he was forced to choose between denying her that lone satisfaction and refusing to take further advantage of her.

Then she looked up at him with her angel-blue eyes and he took the box from her and carried it to the tea table.

Inside the bows, pasteboard, and layers of tissue, he found a miniature railroad passenger car, painted black and green, with burgundy trim, complete with interior furnishings and external coupling equipment. It was perfectly authentic, down to the last bolt and rivet. Lifting it out, he held it up to the light. The glass of the windows glinted golden, like the gilt lettering on the side. Pullman. He swallowed hard, recognizing it. This was her little car—from the library.

“But this is yours.” He frowned as he saw the expectation in her eyes turning to pleasure.

“Not anymore. I thought it would be the perfect gift for a railroad man. His own private railroad car.” Her shrug had a self-conscious air about it. “I never use it. It just sits there in the roundhouse, collecting dust. And it can make your work in Montana so much more bearable … since you may have to work under difficult conditions.” She paused, searching his turbulent expression. “Sometimes the difference between success and failure can be as simple as a good night’s sleep.”

“Wait a minute—you mean—” He looked between her and the miniature Pullman car in his hands, then at Hardwell and Hannah, who were beaming. “You mean this is—you’re actually—”

“Giving you the Wingate private car, for you to take to Montana.” She laughed. “You didn’t think I meant for you to sleep in
that
, did you?” Feeling more assured, she drew
closer and ran her fingers over the little car, brushing his in the process. “It’s not big enough to hold anything but a few dreams.”

The scent of her, the warmth of her tone, the incidental touch of her fingers … he was suddenly reeling from her presence and from the unthinkable generosity of it. She was giving him his own private Pullman car, velvet drapes, brass spittoons, and all. He felt his blood draining toward his knees.

“Diamond, I don’t know what to say,” he murmured, unable to take his eyes from that miniature representation of the massive turn of fortune he was experiencing.

“How about ‘I like it’?” she prompted. “Or ‘It’s perfect.’ ”

“I do and it is,” he said. He looked up to find her loveliness enhanced by her delight. He felt his throat constricting.

“Robert, I believe it’s time for your chores in the stable,” Hannah said.

“Oh, I got plenty o’ time for—” He was staring raptly at the newlyweds, sensing something juicy was about to take place. “Hey!”

Hardwell had seized him by the ear and was ushering him toward the door. “Do as Hannah says, boy, and save yourself a night of bread and water,”

Diamond and Bear were vaguely aware of the others’ exit and of the closing of the great double doors behind them.

“I’m not very good at saying thanks,” Bear confessed, grateful for the privacy. “I haven’t had much practice.”

“Me, either.” She beamed up at him, her eyes glistening.

He touched her cheek and ran his hand down her neck, summoning words.

“Thank you, Diamond McQuaid.”

“You’re welcome, Bear McQuaid.”

Desire erupted out of the core of him, setting his hands quaking. Afraid he might drop the little car, he set it on the table. Then he reached for her with both hands and a wide-open heart. From the moment their lips touched, there were no more thoughts of weddings and fortunes and marital duty. There were only Bear and Diamond. Man and woman. Lovers.

Minutes later they emerged from the drawing room, ruddy-faced and glowing, to announce that they were going down to the train yard to see Bear’s gift. Bear suggested Hardwell and Hannah not wait dinner on them, saying that they might not be back in time, and as she climbed into the coach, Diamond gave Bear a puzzled frown.