Surrender at Orchard Rest (24 page)

A rider on a horse leading another horse came out of the woods suddenly on her left. She thought it was Sawyer for a split second because he rode Bruno, but then she saw it was Phillip. His black hair shone almost blue in the bright light that is the sun’s protest against twilight. He wore a chestnut-colored suit with a peachy waistcoat embroidered in cherry blossoms. It was fortunate that Myra had given her something new to wear, and she gauged from his appreciative look that he found her appearance lacked nothing.

He returned Joseph’s caught-off-guard greeting and swung down off the horse, looking almost as powerful as the animal he rode.

“Good evening,” he said. “I was just at Orchard Rest to see you, and the staff said you’d gone out on a walking party. I thought you might like to go for a ride.”

“You met my brother at the party,” said Somerset. “May I present to you Ivy Garrett? I’m afraid I’m not dressed for riding the back roads, though, Mr. Russell. Won’t you join our little excursion?”

“Miss Garrett, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said as he left the horses to forage for clover. “Walking isn’t the most competitive way to spend an evening, but I’ve no other plans this evening so I’ll join you.”

“Must everything be competitive for you?” asked Somerset as he fell into step beside her.

Joseph increased his pace to move himself and Ivy several yards ahead of them.

“I wouldn’t be well known in the mining sector if I wasn’t competitive. Men who own gold mines aren’t demure creatures, Miss Forrest. I suspect that’s why we’ve taken to each other so well.”

“You’ve said something in that vein since the night I met you, and other than a few poorly planned run-ins, I don’t see any evidence of it.”

Phillip smiled at her.

“Indeed, Somerset? Tell me: what did you do with the print I sent to you? What did you do with the gift so intimate anyone else would have returned it?”

Her cheeks stung from the rush of blood to them.

“I take it you didn’t throw it away then,” he surmised. “Did you find it romantic?”

Somerset tossed her head.

He looked victorious.

“You must have thought it one of the most romantic gestures you’ve ever had. I can tell by your transparent reactions.”

“It was not,” she protested, but her voice gave away the lie.

“Really? Because I gave you the one material thing in this world that you want and don’t have. What ranks higher?”

“Anything Eric ever touched,” Somerset said. “Nothing will ever compare to my engagement ring or the intent to gift me with house itself.”

“What will it take to surpass him?” asked Phillip.

Somerset stopped in her tracks and looked up at him. The slight give in her knees whenever she made eye contact with him was proof enough of her emerging feelings, but she kept her face calm as she studied the uncannily familiar blue eyes.

“The house.”

“You jest!”

A ribbon of satisfaction wound about her insides as she digested the fact that she’d managed to take him aback. Her gaze never flickered from his. She couldn’t see past the pale blue of his eyes or the sharp indentation over his upper lip that was so like the one that she had kissed millions of times in her belle days.

“I don’t jest. I want the Unnamed House. It really is mine even if I don’t own it. If someone could restore it to my ownership, that would be the most romantic gesture to me. The house is the cornerstone, the centerpiece of my adult life. It has stood guardian over me when no one else could. I want to take care of it in return—every corbel, every cornice, each cupola.”

“You’ll never have it,” Phillip said. “No one offloads the last epic piece of their child’s life. If the house is what you ultimately seek, you’ll be disappointed to find the pinnacle of your romance is far behind you forever. Paul and Margaret would choose to be buried in it if they could.”

“You aren’t telling me anything that I don’t already know,” she countered. “What did you think, Mr. Russell? That I expected you to procure the deed to the house for me? Come, you don’t think I’m that naïve, do you? There’s also no doubting that the pinnacle of my romantic life is far behind me.”

He laughed aloud, and the sound rang out in the open section of the field they were in. Somerset imagined it carried at least to Buchanan’s Loft. Joseph turned and looked at them but Ivy nudged him to make him turn around.

“I do enjoy sparring with you,” he said. “I can’t remember the last time I had such a good time in the company of a lady. I said before that you are complex, but I find your unapologetic realism most stimulating.”

“I like sparring with you as well,” she winked. “Tell me something. Did you imagine yourself in the silhouette you sent me?”

“Is there any difference between the one I sent you and the one on the bedroom wall?”

“Not that I did notice.”

“Then why does it matter? I’m no school chap in love, Somerset. I don’t know what you’re accustomed to, but I’m not about to make some tremulous confession in the middle of a field. I’ve made it obvious that I’m interested in you.”

Somerset began walking again as she realized Joseph and Ivy were beginning to dwindle out of sight as they took a curve on the path that would lead them back to Orchard Rest. From that distance, Joseph’s gait looked as smooth and controlled as Ivy’s, and they were only two people-shaped blotches against a coppery sunlit sky.

Her pulse thrilled at the prospect of being left alone with Phillip. There was something so provocative, so animated about Phillip and his inherent lack of frivolity that every time she was around him she found herself moving away from him. Some primal part of her desired nothing more than to push him into the copse of trees nearby and kiss him over and over. She wanted to know once and for all where his hands would come to rest when he pulled her close to him.

“I see. You are ‘interested in me.’ I am interested in why you’ve never married.”

“I’ve never met a woman whom I thought could endure the life I lead,” Phillip replied. “I travel even more than I would like, which is unfortunate because I enjoy travel to a new place. A man with as many assets as I is not a popular fellow, either, when everyone else is struggling to fill their plates. So I would subject my chosen wife to a lifetime of loneliness and required independence. I don’t want a marriage if it’s going to be fraught with discontent.

“Of course, someone is always willing to let me escort them to the opera, the symphony, or the newest restaurant in town. There’s no shortage of ladies happy to help me spend my money and have a sophisticated evening out. I haven’t been lonely in the slightest, but at the end of an evening it would be a relief to discuss something other than the weather, the church fundraiser, or the audacity of Reconstruction. Every woman has the same cultured opinion about every well-bred topic to discuss. I’m not lonely but I am bored. I believe I’ve learned how to sleep with my eyes open over the last few years.

“I liked you instantly at my birthday party, Somerset. I like to think about the game way you handled me cornering you during Blind Man’s Bluff. I have nothing but praise for the cool way you handled two hundred red-faced country oafs cheering you on when I advanced on you and you cleared the davenport. You’re used to being watched, plagued even, by the expectations of the public eye. The loyalty you express for my cousin isn’t mawkish and miserable. You haven’t dried up like an old apple over him the way other women have over their mates. The torch you carry for him is passionate and bright, and I covet that kind of devotion within my own life.”

“Just what are you trying to say?” asked Somerset.

Her senses whirled around her as she sensed the threads of a proposal being woven together.

Phillip smiled, and the penny-colored light illuminated the creases around his eyes.

“I’m saying that you interest me. What did you think I was saying? I already told you that I wasn’t going to make foolish declarations in a cow field. I like you. I hope that you like me as well, so that I don’t have to keep inveigling visits here and there. I’d like to have permission to see you for the rest of the time that I’m in town. The worst thing that could happen is that you find you like me a bit as well.”

He sounded amused by her distress.

“Don’t bother being coy,” he added. “It doesn’t suit you, Somerset. I think you like me. I think you are more yourself around me than you are around most of the hapless farmers wandering the fields of the Grove.”

“I do like you. I like your assertiveness. Assertiveness in a man makes me feel safe. I don’t feel safe anymore, but the reasons behind that are too numerous and long-winded to go into tonight. When I’m with you, I feel divided between laughter, confession, and outrage,” she admitted.

“Then let’s not play games,” he suggested. “Let’s settle upon an agreement for the remainder of my stay.”

“I thought you liked games,” she quipped.

“So I do,” he agreed and grabbed her.

An indistinct, muffled sound of surprise escaped her as he caught one arm by the wrist and held it to his chest. His other arm wrapped around her lower back, with his hand resting against her hip bone, clasping her to him. They were pinned together muscle to muscle, bone to bone, and Somerset felt exhilarated that she was driving him to recklessness. She was disappointed to feel his heart thrumming away in a dull and sensible beat beneath her palm, though. Her cobalt eyes gleamed up at him, satisfied to find herself in such a position.

“There has been one thought on your mind since the moment I unmasked myself.”

“There’s been one thought on your mind since the moment you unmasked yourself.”

“It’s nothing for me to admit my attraction for you. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. It’s distracting, bewitching—but not blinding. I see the way you look at me, and I’m old enough to be sure of what it means.”

He bowed her backward and bent over her and for a singular moment all she saw was the loved blue pair of eyes framed by expressive eyebrows coming down at her. She hoped in that instant that she didn’t look nearly as elated as she felt because she’d never experienced a hunger like this to kiss anyone. Savoring his evergreen and clove kiss was all she could think of. With the last shred of composure in her body, she put her free hand up and placed it upright against his mouth.

“I’m glad you’re old enough to know what it means,” she said and was glad to hear her words coming out clearly, because she felt she struggled to speak. “I’m glad you’re old enough to know what it means because I’m old enough to recognize many things, too.”

He released her and looked at her with curiosity as she went back to strolling down the path as if nothing had taken place between them.

“I’m old enough to know how I feel, how you feel, and above all else, I’m old enough to have a certain measure of self-worth. As much as I would like to kiss you, Phillip, as attracted as I am to you even—well, if I let you kiss me in a pasture for no good reason, that doesn’t speak well of me, does it? No. I’ll kiss you when you’ve earned it. The nicest part of my advancing age is that I know the full worth of my pedigree, my appearance, and an intact reputation. I won’t let you besmirch any aspect of my being that may be my saving grace later. Know that anyone who has ever laid a hand on me has worked for the privilege. I advise you to get better acquainted with my heart before you try again.”

“What makes you think I’ll come back?”

“I’m not worried about it one way or another, Phillip. You aren’t my last chance even if you are a very nice one, but you’ll be back. I don’t think you’ve ever been quite so interested in someone before.”

She moved away from him with the cool, confident self-assurance of a woman who had the upper hand.

“That didn’t go as I planned, but I’m more than content to take your challenge,” said Phillip as he fell back into step beside her.

He didn’t sound aggravated in the least. There was a thoughtful note in his voice that she had never heard before.

“I’d like to take you out riding tomorrow since today didn’t work out.”

“I’d be happy to go if the weather is nice. It’s one of my favorite pastimes.”

They were approaching Orchard Rest’s back porch. Ivy was resting in Blanche’s favorite cane woven rocker while Joseph sprawled on the steps at her feet. Sawyer Russell stood on the bottom steps, addressing them with his back to Somerset and Phillip. Somerset’s heart gave a jerk and her pace slowed although she was nearly on top of him.

“Brother,” said Phillip.

Sawyer turned and spoke. His verdant eyes rested on Somerset in all of her borrowed finery, and they ached. He swallowed hard as he greeted them.

“Now? I don’t want you to ever go—least of all now!”

Tears shimmered on Ivy’s blotchy face and she jumped out of her chair and threw herself into Sawyer’s arms. He made vague soothing noises as he stroked the back of her sleek hair.

“Bah, you won’t even notice I left. We’re all so busy these days. I’ll write.”

He smiled a rusty, brave smile that had gotten too much practice and set her on the porch as she dug around for her handkerchief and turned to face Joseph.

“I only came because I promised you that I would tell you before I left, Joseph.”