Fairy Tale Weddings (19 page)

Judy assumed Butterman was his attorney. “What did he have to say?”

John's expression was thoughtful. “Not much. But he seemed to think the new strategy would work. Unless United Petroleum wants to play games, I should hear back sometime this afternoon.” He tipped back the brim of his hat and glanced at his watch. “The fact is, I should probably cut our ride short and get back to the office in case they contact me this morning.”

Judy was aghast. “You don't intend to work, do you? Good heavens, you've been away on an exhausting business trip.”

“So?”

“You haven't slept in who knows how long!”

McFarland's mouth thinned. “What's that got to do with anything?”

“Everything,” she cried, losing her own temper. She
didn't know what was wrong with him, but she had a hunch that a few hours' rest would cure it.

“Just what am I supposed to do?”

“Sleep.”

“I'm expecting a phone call.”

“Avery will wake you.”

“What are you? My nurse?”

Judy's gloved hands tightened around the reins at the harsh edge to his voice. “Someone needs to look after you.”

“And you're volunteering for the job?” McFarland didn't want to shout at her, but he couldn't seem to make himself stop. She was right. He hadn't seen a bed in over forty-eight hours, but he sure didn't want a woman dictating his actions.

Judy clamped her mouth shut, refusing to rise to the bait.

They rode together for half an hour without saying a word. McFarland derived little pleasure from the outing. He regretted having snapped at Judy, especially when he would much rather have taken her in his arms and kissed her. He searched for a way to apologize without losing his pride, and found none.

When they'd returned to the stable, Judy lowered herself from Princess's back and turned toward John. “As I recall, only a few hours ago you considered me wise and insightful. I don't know what happened since then, but I really do wish you'd rest.”

“Why?”

She clenched her fists. “You're killing yourself working day and night for no reason.”

“I call a hundred million dollars a damn good reason.”

“Is it worth your health?” she cried, tears glistening in her eyes. “Is it worth becoming so unreasonable no one can even talk to you? Is it worth saying things you don't mean?”

“You seem to be doing exactly that.”

“No. I mean everything I say.” She paused. “I care about you.”

“Is that supposed to excite me?” he asked. “You care about everything—horses, children…bugs. It would be hard to find something you
didn't
care about. Listen, Miss Bleeding Heart, I can do without your meddling. Got that?”

“No,” she said with pride, her face pale and grim.

“You've been nothing but a nuisance since you came to the island. There isn't a man or woman here who doesn't bend to your every wish. Well, I refuse to be one of them. You'll do what I tell you. It won't be the other way around. Is that clear?”

If possible, her face went even paler, and her eyes widened with unmistakable pain. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. But she refused to look away.

“I won't bother you again, John McFarland,” she whispered with quiet dignity and turned away from him. How quickly everything had changed. She'd missed John desperately. She'd longed to savor this morning's outing with him and instead had been subjected to an outburst she didn't understand.

In her rooms, she sat and stared at the wall as the tears began to flow down her cheeks. She was in love with a beast. The possibility of ever gaining his heart struck her as ludicrous. In his own words, she was a nuisance and, with that, Judy realized that he'd probably never be capable of loving her.

At lunchtime, she sent a message that she wouldn't be
joining him and requested that all her meals be sent to her room. If John found her company so taxing, there was no need to punish him with it. She was determined to avoid him until he saw fit to summon her.

A day passed.

A night.

Another day.

Another long, sleepless night.

A third day came and went, and still John didn't ask for her. She thought about him, yearned for him. She loved him and he considered her an annoyance. All these weeks when she'd treasured every moment with him, he'd seen her as a bother, a pest.

Still, he didn't summon her. To escape her rooms, Judy walked along the beach in the early morning. For the first time in weeks she entertained thoughts of leaving, but ultimately rejected them. They'd struck a bargain, and although it became increasingly difficult, she would stay on the island until he sent her away.

Countless times Judy wondered why he kept her there. She yearned to be with her family.

 

McFarland was not amused by Judy's stubbornness. Perhaps he'd been a bit unreasonable, but her reaction was even more so. For four days, she'd refused to have anything to do with him. That had been her choice, but enough was enough. The entire house was in an uproar.

Earlier McFarland had discovered the chef arguing with Avery. French insults gushed like water out of a spigot while the four-star chef gestured freely with his hands. The entire time, the man glanced accusingly in McFarland's direction.

“What was that all about?” he'd asked his assistant later.

“He—ah—is concerned,” Avery commented, looking embarrassed.

“Concerned? Is there a problem with the kitchen staff?”

“No.” Avery busied himself shifting papers around his desk.

“Then what is it?”

“He's concerned about Ms. Lovin.”

McFarland's grin faded and his eyes grew cold. “Judy? What's wrong?”

“He claims she isn't eating properly and that she sends back her meals untouched. He's tempted her with his most famous recipes and nothing seems to work. He's afraid she's making herself ill.”

A muscle jerked convulsively in McFarland's clenched jaw.

“I realize this isn't any of my business, Mr. McFarland, but…”

“You're right. It isn't.”

Avery squared his shoulders, his own jaw tightening. “I've been with you for several years now, but these last three days have been the most difficult. You've been impatient and unreasonably demanding, and I can see no excuse for it. You have my notice, Mr. McFarland.”

McFarland was stunned. Perhaps he
had
been a bit more demanding in the past few days, but that wasn't any reason for Avery to resign. “As you wish,” he answered with some reluctance.

The afternoon went smoothly after that, but when they'd finished, Avery presented him with a brief but precise letter of resignation.

McFarland read it over twice, convinced there must've been some mistake. There wasn't; Avery was leaving him.

In an effort to think through this unexpected turn of events, McFarland got two cold beers and decided to visit Sam. To his additional shock, he discovered that the stableman regarded him with a black scowl.

“Don't tell me she's got you on her side, as well?” McFarland barked, angry because he should've known better. She'd had Sam twisted around her little finger from the minute she'd tamed Midnight. “Doesn't even one of you recognize the hand that feeds you? I don't believe it. Not you, too?”

In response, Sam chuckled, ambled to the back of the barn and brought out two rickety chairs.

“Women aren't worth the trouble they cause,” McFarland said, pulling the tab from the aluminum top and guzzling a long swallow.

Sam joined him in the toast. “Can't say I blame you. You'd do well to be rid of her.”

McFarland wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What do you mean?”

“You don't plan to keep her on the island? Not with the way she's been acting.”

McFarland planned exactly that. He had no intention of letting her leave. She was there of her own free will—at any rate, she'd chosen to come. This disagreement between them was a spat, nothing more. She'd infringed on his private life and he wouldn't stand for it. Given time, she'd acknowledge that and she'd apologize and the situation would return to the way it used to be.

“She's a busybody, that one,” Sam added. “Why, look at the way she stuck her nose in your affairs, dictating how you should run your business. No man should be expected to put up with that kind of intrusion.”

McFarland nodded slowly, a little taken aback by Sam's vehemence.

“Look at the way she's always needling you, making one demand after another. I hear she constantly wants gifts.”

McFarland shook his head. “She's never asked for a thing. Not for herself, anyway.”

Sam took a swallow of beer. “If I were you, I'd put her in a rowboat and cast her out of my life. Let her fend for herself. As you said, she's a nuisance. She isn't worth the trouble.”

McFarland mumbled something unintelligible. “Who said she was a nuisance?”

“You did! I heard you tell her so myself. You should've seen the look in her eyes.” Sam's laugh was loud and boisterous. “She's full of pride and spirit, that one. You'd better break it if you intend to keep her around.”

“What else did I say to her?”

“Oh, lots of things.”

“What things?”

McFarland felt sick as Sam told him. He'd been so exhausted that he didn't remember half of it. Now, every word, every syllable, was like a vicious punch to his abdomen.

McFarland crushed the aluminum can with his hands and stood.

“Where are you going?”

He didn't answer.

“You're going to get rid of her, aren't you?” Sam asked, and noting the expression on McFarland's face, he chuckled, pleased with himself.

A little reverse psychology wouldn't go amiss, Sam figured. It worked with stubborn horses. Why not their owners?

O
nce again McFarland was in the uncomfortable position of having to seek Judy's forgiveness. His behavior gnawed at his conscience and wouldn't let him sleep. He rolled over and stared at the darkened ceiling. His heart constricted and his first serious doubts concerning what he was doing with Judy began to surface. He'd seen her picture in some newspaper and his interest had been awakened. He didn't quite understand what craziness had driven him to bring her to his island. In the weeks since her arrival, his life had been drastically affected. She'd been open, happy, guileless and unbelievably gentle when she had every excuse to hate him. He'd berated her, lashed out at her and still she turned those beautiful eyes on him and managed to smile.

By everything that was right, he should send her back to her family. His heart pounded slowly, painfully, at the thought of never hearing the sound of her laughter again, or having those eyes smile into his, or seeing her ride across his land with her hair in disarray. A heaviness weighed on his chest.

He couldn't do it—sending her away was unthinkable. The tenderness in her eyes and her smile filled him with an exhilaration he couldn't analyze. He wasn't even sure he wanted to. She made him feel things he'd never experienced, emotions he'd fought against most of his life. All he knew was that he needed her on St. Steven's for now. He'd deal with tomorrow later.

 

Judy punched her pillow and battled another wave of depression. She was wide awake. With nothing better to do, she climbed out of bed, dressed and crept out of the house, heading for the stables.

She felt incredibly weary.

The sky remained dark, but the promise of dawn lay just over the horizon. She could hear Sam stirring in the back of the barn as she saddled Princess and rode toward the beach.

 

Sam's features were twisted in a scowl as he searched McFarland's face in the half light of early dawn.

“She's gone,” he announced harshly.

“Who?” McFarland stood beside Midnight, already saddled and waiting for him.

“Princess.”

McFarland's eyes widened. No one would dare steal the mare. Only Judy rode her. “Has anyone checked the house to see—”

“The maid says there's no one in her room. Her bed barely looks slept in.”

McFarland's own features hardened with determination, and in a single motion, he swung his weight onto Midnight's back. “What direction does she usually take?”

Sam gestured widely with both hands. “North. Sometimes east.”

“I'll head west.”

Sam's nod was curt, his eyes boring into McFarland's. “You bring her back. She belongs here.”

McFarland raced out of the yard. He wouldn't come back until he found her. He'd punish whoever had helped her in this underhanded scheme. What good was security if she could carry out her own escape? He'd fire the lot of them, but first he had to find Judy.

McFarland would've ridden from one side of the island to the other, torn down the entire jungle to stop her. To his utter astonishment, all it took was a wild fifteen-minute ride. He came upon her with such ease that his heart began to slam against his chest. He paused, his frantic heartbeat stilling as he raised his eyes in gratitude.

She was walking on the beach with Princess following behind. The reins were draped over her shoulders as she ambled along. Although McFarland was high on the ridge above, he could see how distressed Judy was. Her head hung low, her shoulders were hunched and she moved slowly, despondently. He didn't need to see her tear-streaked face to know she'd been crying. That realization had the oddest effect on him. Guilt overwhelmed him and his chest constricted with a pain that was razor sharp. He couldn't take his eyes off her. Witnessing her sorrow brought such an intense desire to protect her that he could hardly breathe.

Since the night Sam had told him about the things he'd said to Judy, McFarland had sought a means of apologizing while salvaging his pride. He could give her a token gift, perhaps. Something that would convey his message
without costing him emotionally. Watching her now, a sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach and he admitted that he'd gladly fall to his knees and beg her forgiveness. He was a selfish bastard and Beauty—his Beauty—deserved so much better.

 

Judy wiped the tears from her cheeks, angry with herself for being so melancholy. From the first, she'd known it would be difficult to love John. She'd thought she had accepted that. In the long days since their ride together, she'd come to understand the cost that love demanded. But she had her pride, too—in some ways it was as great as John's—and she would die before she'd let him know that he held her heart in the palm of his hand.

A flash of ebony caught her attention and she turned and spotted John on the ridge above her. He pulled on the reins and she realized with a start that he was planning to meet her. It was one thing to know he'd found her, and another to let him see her tears.

Frantic to escape, she mounted Princess and slapped the reins hard. The mare shot across the beach, kicking up a flurry of sand. Judy decided her best chance of escape was the jungle and went in that direction. Risking a look behind her, she was astonished to see that John had already arrived at the beach.

“Hurry, Princess,” she cried as the horse charged ahead.

Judy didn't see what darted across the beach, but Princess reared, her front legs kicking in terror. Unable to stop herself, Judy slipped sideways in the saddle. She made a desperate effort to regain her balance, but it was too difficult to stay on the bucking horse. A sense of unreality filled her. She hadn't been thrown by a horse since she was a child.
She refused to believe it, but the ground that rushed up to meet her was certainly real. With a cry of panic she put out her arms to break the fall. Then the impact of her body against the beach brutally drove the air from her lungs.

McFarland saw Princess buck and watched helplessly as Judy teetered, frantically trying to regain her seat. He saw her fall and knew she'd landed hard. Swearwords scorched the morning mist and his heart thundered with alarm. The thoughts that flashed through his mind were completely illogical. He'd sell his business interests around the world if she was unhurt. If that didn't satisfy the powers that be, he offered his life, his soul—anything—as long as Judy wasn't hurt.

He pulled Midnight to an abrupt halt, vaulted from the stallion's back and ran across the sand, more frightened than he could remember ever being.

Falling to his knees at Judy's side, he gently rolled her over. The steady, even pulsing at the side of her neck made him go weak with relief. He yanked off his jacket and placed it under her head. Then, not knowing what else to do, he held her limp hand in his own, rubbing the inside of her wrist.

Judy's eyes fluttered open to see John leaning over her, looking sickly pale. “Princess?” she whispered and tried to sit up.

It took McFarland a moment to realize she was worried about the mare. He was astonished; Judy could have been maimed, or worse, killed, and she seemed to care nothing for her own well-being.

“Is she hurt?”

McFarland shook his head and responded in a husky voice. “She's fine. She's already on her way back to the stable. What about you? How do you feel?”

Her smile was little more than a slight trembling of her lips. It was too soon to tell. She felt like she might throw up and the world spun crazily. “I'm all right,” she said weakly.

“You're sure?” His eyes burned into hers.

“The only thing bruised is my pride.” With some difficulty she stood, then stumbled and swayed toward him. Her ribs hurt badly, but she successfully hid the pain.

McFarland caught her, wrapping his arms around her, holding her against him, grateful for the excuse to bring her into his embrace. He brushed her disheveled hair away from her face, and Judy noted that he was shaking as much as she was.

“I'm fine, John. Something must have spooked Princess. I think it was a rabbit.” She tilted her head back and saw the torment in his expression as he relived the moment of her fall.

Their eyes met. Neither moved; neither breathed. Slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers. Judy could find no way to describe the turbulent sensations that jolted her. It was as though she realized she could've been killed and forever denied the feel of John's arms around her. Judy wanted to cherish this moment forever and forget the pain.

They remained locked in each other's arms long after the kiss had ended. Timeless seconds passed, each more precious than the one before.

“You have to see a doctor,” he said at last.

“John, I'll be fine.”

“You're shaking.”

She smiled, unable to tell him his kisses contributed to her trembling as much as the pain.

His low whistle brought Midnight to their side. “You'll ride with me.”

“But…”

One look cut off any argument. McFarland climbed into Midnight's saddle first.

Judy stared at the stallion and felt her knees go weak. The last thing she wanted to do right now was get back on a horse. Although she strove to reassure John that she was unhurt, she felt as though someone had taken a baseball bat to her ribs. It hurt to breathe and she ached everywhere. Nothing seemed broken, but something wasn't right, either. “What if he won't let me?” she asked shakily.

John dismissed the idea with a curious smile. “You said yourself that Midnight is your friend.”

She nodded, staring at the hand he offered her. She took it, and his strong fingers closed over hers as he prepared to lift her onto the stallion's back. However, the simple act of raising her arm caused her to gasp with pain.

Hurriedly, she drew it back to her side, closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against John's leg. The next thing she knew, she was on her knees in the sand, clutching her side.

“You idiot!” he shouted, dismounting. “Why didn't you say something?”

Tears welled in her eyes as she lifted her gaze to his. “Why do you always yell at me?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.

“Beauty, I'm sorry.”

She held her arm protectively across her ribs. “Only my father calls me that.”

“It's true, you know,” he said, kneeling beside her, holding her with such tenderness that she couldn't identify the greater pain—loving John or the ache in her ribs.

“I'm not beautiful.”

“Yes, you are. You're the most beautiful woman I know. Now, don't argue with me anymore.”

She gave him a weak smile.

The trip back to the house was torture and seemed to take hours. She pleaded with him to leave her there and send someone back for her. The injury wasn't so bad that she couldn't stand to be alone for half an hour. John adamantly refused and, in the end, she did ride Midnight, cradled in John's arms.

She rode facing him, her head against his chest, her arms around his middle. Their progress was slow and by the time they arrived she was hazy with pain and incredibly sleepy.

Sam and several others rushed out to greet them.

“Send for a doctor,” John shouted urgently. That meant flying one in, which would take time, but there was no alternative.

With some effort, Judy lifted her head. “I thought you weren't going to yell anymore.”

“I said that?” He pretended to be surprised.

She frowned and drew in a slow, painful breath. “Maybe you didn't.”

He buried his fingers in her hair. “If it'll make the hurt go away,” he whispered, “I promise never to raise my voice again.”

The ache in her side immediately lessened.

He issued other orders, but in a subdued voice that moved her deeply, not because she found his shouting objectionable, but because he cared enough to try to please her. After the last four days of the bitter war that had raged between them, this sweet attention was bliss.

John helped her off Midnight and carried her into the house. She protested when he started up the stairs to her room, but it didn't stop him.

“I'm too heavy,” she cried.

“Now look who's yelling.”

“John, please, you're the one who'll need a doctor if you insist on hauling me up these stairs.”

“I'll risk it.”

“I wish you wouldn't.” But it was useless to protest. Besides, he was already halfway up the stairs.

When he reached the hallway outside her suite, he nudged her door open, crossed the room and placed her carefully on the bed. Judy immediately recognized that lying down wasn't the thing to do and kicking out her feet, she struggled to a sitting position.

“What's wrong?” McFarland saw the flash of pain in her eyes and felt it as strongly as if the agony were his own.

She shook her head and closed her eyes. “Nothing. Just go away, please. I'll be fine in a minute.”

To her surprise he did leave her, but two maids were in her room within seconds. They were followed by the security guard who'd met her the day of her arrival.