The First Wife (3 page)

“It is.” His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Till death do us part.”

The sun went behind a cloud and a chill, like a shadow, moved over her. “How much
farther?”

“A mile.”

“Then quick, tell me about Paul.”

“My stable manager.”

“Oldest friend and right-hand man.”

“Yup. And he’s going to be really pissed about this.”

More good news
. Logan’s secretiveness had bothered her. She’d called the only two people in her
life who would care, her friend Marilyn and her former boss from the bookstore. Both
had been shocked and had begged her to reconsider. They’d been suspicious of Logan’s
motives.

They didn’t get it. He wasn’t rushing her.
They
were following their hearts. Acting on their certainty that they were meant to be
together.

But for Bailey, it was also about adventure. For once, stepping out and grabbing life
by the horns. About being an active participant in her dreams coming true.

“You should have told him, Logan. To spring us on him and everyone else like this,
it doesn’t seem fair. I’d be pissed, too.”

The light ahead turned red and he rolled to a stop. He looked at her. “I wanted this
to be just ours, Bailey. For a little bit longer.”

A lump formed in her throat. Not secretive. Holding on to and cherishing this special
time together.

The light changed and Logan eased forward. “Besides, you’ll understand when you meet
everyone.”

“They’re a pack of hungry wolves, is that what you’re saying?”

“Pretty much.” He reached across the seat and caught her hand. “Look, just up on the
right. Abbott Farm.”

CHAPTER THREE

Logan reached the drive and turned in, rolling through the open gates, emblazoned
with an ornate
AF
.

“Wait!” she said. “Stop.”

He did, eyebrows drawing together. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She hoped he didn’t hear the quiver in her voice. “I just need a moment.”

To calm her thundering heart. To harness the sudden wave of uncertainty that rose
up in her. This was it. Her new home. She had tied herself to this man and this place,
everything familiar a thousand miles away.

She was alone here.

No, she had Logan. And as long as they were together, she’d never be alone.

Life by the horns, she reminded herself. True love and everything that went along
with it.

She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay,” she said. “Ready.”

“Second thoughts?”

“No.” She forced a confident smile. “Hell no, in fact.”

Logan put the car in gear. The gravel drive snaked its way back to the main stable—they
called them barns here, Logan had told her—and training arenas. He had shown her pictures
of the estate online. It consisted of the barn and training facilities, acres of pastureland,
three residences sitting on ninety wooded acres.

But the photos hadn’t prepared her for how breathtaking it was.

Rolling pastures lined with white fencing. Sprawling grounds. Mature oaks, maples
and birch trees. Two mares grazing in the pasture nearest the entrance, foals at their
sides.

They reached the barn. Logan swung the Porsche into a spot under a tree and killed
the engine. Two dogs scampered out to meet them—a corgi and a chocolate Lab—followed
by a man in blue jeans, boots and a cowboy hat.

Logan glanced at her. “A word of warning. Paul has supersonic hearing. He misses nothing
that’s said in the barn.”

“So no sex talk when I think he’s out of earshot?”

“Right.” He grinned. “Though it kills me to say it.”

A moment later Bailey watched as the two men embraced.

“You sorry S.O.B.,” Paul said, slapping him on the back. “I was beginning to wonder
if you were ever coming back. One week turned into three and a half? Damn, man.”

Logan smiled. “I considered living in paradise, but figured this place would go to
hell without me.”

Paul laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. “You wish.” He looked her way and smiled. “And
I see you brought a friend. Hi, I’m Paul.”

She pulled off her knit cap, shook out her shoulder length, wavy blond hair and smiled.
“I’m Bailey. Logan’s told me so much about you.”

Paul looked startled, then cleared his throat. “Hopefully nothing I have to deny too
vehemently?”

“Not at all. It was all glowing.”

Logan turned toward her and held out a hand. She crossed to him and took it, liking
the way his fingers curled around hers. He pulled her close to his side.

“Paul,” he said, “I have news. Try not to be so pissed you make an ass of yourself.”

“I knew it.” Paul put his fists on his hips, mouth curving into a wry smile. “You
bought a horse, didn’t you?”

Logan glanced at her, laughter in his eyes, then back at Paul. “In a manner of speaking.”

“You son of a bitch. The two-year-old from Miami. I told you they wanted too much
for him. So did August.”

Bailey tried not to laugh. “The horse, it’s not a him. It’s a her.”

“Bailey’s more than a friend, Paul. She’s my wife. That’s the news.”

Paul let out a bark of laughter. “You met on the beach, fell in love and got married.
Makes perfect sense to me.”

At their silence, his smile slipped. Again, he moved his gaze between the two of them,
before settling it on Logan. “This isn’t a joke?”

“Nope. We got married two days ago.”

Paul flushed and turned to her. “I’m so sorry,” he said stiffly. “I didn’t mean any
disrespect, I’m just … speechless.”

“I understand,” she said, and held out her hand. “In a way I am, too. It’s good to
meet you, Paul.”

She supposed it all sounded ridiculous to him; she knew he didn’t appreciate the position
Logan had put him in. But instead of being a jerk about it, he ignored her hand and
pulled her into a bear hug. “You’re in South Louisiana now, we hug down here. Besides”—he
held her at arm’s length—“you’re family now.”

The simply stated words took her breath away.
Family. What she’d lost when her mother died
.

“That means a lot to me, Paul. Thank you.”

He looked at Logan. “Does Raine know?”

Logan shook his head and Paul’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s one way to do it, but I
would’ve thought that through a little more.”

“I’m not scared,” Logan shot back with a laugh.

“But I am,” Paul said, and winked at her. “Like we always say, wind and Raine—”

“—thunder and lightning,” Logan finished. “She’ll get over it. She’ll have to.”

He led Bailey to the car, then called back to his friend, “By the way, you’re coming
to dinner. Bring wine. The good stuff, we’re celebrating!”

A moment later, they were back in the Porsche, heading away from the barn. “What did
you think of Paul?”

“I liked him. It’s your sister I’m worried about.”

“Raine’s emotional, that’s all.” Logan maneuvered the vehicle up the winding gravel
drive, the grounds changing from manicured to wild.

“Emotional?” She cocked an eyebrow. “Wind and rain, thunder and lightning?”

“Like I said, temperamental.”

“And possessive of you?”

“Very.”

“And August’s a son of a bitch.” Bailey mock-moaned and brought her hands to her face.
“I’ve got a really bad feeling about this.”

“Remember, Paul’s nice.”

“Thanks for reminding me, but I still have the feeling I’m screwed.”

“I’ll protect you.”

“You’d better, since you got me into this.” They left the sun behind. Under the canopy
of trees the temperature dropped, and she huddled deeper into her coat.

They came upon another set of gates, smaller this time with no insignia. He reached
across the seat and caught her hand. “Excited?”

She nodded and he drove slowly through. The brick walls that surrounded the property
looked a century old, though from what he’d told her, the house had been built less
than fifty years ago.

Bailey caught her breath as the house came fully into view. She’d expected a Southern
plantation or a manor house, not this sprawling … hacienda.

She told him so and he corrected her. “Spanish-style
cortijo
.”

“Cortijo,”
she repeated.

“Farmhouse. My mother named it Nuestra Pequeña Cortijo. Our little farmhouse.”

“Has it occurred to you, there’s nothing little about it?”

“You didn’t know my dad. He wanted a grand, French country manor, Mom had other ideas.
As you see, she won him over.”

She heard the sadness in his voice and squeezed his hand. “I love it already.”

He parked. They climbed out. She stood a moment, drinking it in with all her senses.
It smelled earthy and alive. But it was so quiet. Just the rustle of leaves, chirp
of the birds and water trickling in a nearby fountain.

“It feels like we’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“Our own private world.”

He grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers. “C’mon, I’ll show you around.”

At the front door, he scooped her into his arms and carried her across the threshold.
“Welcome home, Mrs. Abbott.”

As he set her down, he kissed her. She clung to him, wondering how this had happened,
how her life had become the fairy tale she had fantasized of as a young girl but given
up on.

“You’re crying,” he said as he released her. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just so happy. I just … I thought you’d never come.”

“But here I am.”

For long moments, they simply gazed into each other’s eyes, then he led her from room
to room. Like an eager little boy, showing off his treasures. The place was magnificent.
Both rugged and elegant. Cutting-edge convenience and old-world charm. Large windows
and exposed brick. Reclaimed cypress doors and heart-of-pine floors; state-of-the-art
electronics and Viking appliances in the country-style kitchen.

She crossed to the French doors and peered out. A lush courtyard, she saw. Complete
with a pool, outdoor fireplace and the fountain she had heard from the drive.

She looked over her shoulder at him to find him carefully watching her. “I think I
know where I’m going to be spending a lot of my time.”

“Other than the barn, I remember it being my mother’s favorite spot as well. Come,
I’ll show you the rest of the house.”

Moments later, he swung open a door. “My study.”

Bailey stepped in, stopping at the painting that dominated the room. A portrait of
a woman and a horse. The woman was beautiful, with dark hair and light skin, her mouth
was curved into a small secretive smile identical to Logan’s. Somehow, the artist
had caught the bond between horse and his master.

“It’s your mother.”

“You look just like her.” He circled his arms around her and drew her back against
his chest. “This is the way I remember her.”

“She was lovely.”

“She was.” He rested his chin on her head. “The horse’s name is Sapphire. She raised
him from a foal.”

Bailey recalled what he’d told her. That horses had been his mother’s passion; that
she’d ridden dressage, making the U.S. team for the 1980 Summer Olympics.

“Did she medal in the games?”

“She did. Come see.” He led her to the mantel. There, displayed in a shadow box were
several photographs of a young Elisabeth Abbott competing and the Olympic bronze medal
she had won.

“She gave up competing after. Married Dad, had us. Devoted her energy to training
young riders.”

“Is this the same horse from the portrait?”

“No. Sapphire was his offspring,” he said softly. “He died the same year she did.”

At the pain in his voice, a lump formed in her throat. His mother had died tragically
young. Bailey didn’t know the details, only that she drowned. Logan had been almost
sixteen, Raine ten. He’d promised to share the details someday; she’d agreed, they
had their whole lives to learn about each other.

Someday
. It had seemed so far away a few days ago. Now, here, surrounded by his mother’s
things, it had arrived. Bailey longed to know everything. About his mother and everything
else that had helped shape the man she loved.

She opened her mouth to ask, but as if sensing it, Logan drew her away. “Come, I’ll
show you the upstairs.”

Three bedrooms, she discovered, including the master. Each with a balcony that looked
out over the courtyard and pool.

“This is the master,” he said, swinging the door open.

She stepped into the room. A king-size poster bed. Serene blues and cream, with touches
of gold. Furniture that looked as if it had been made for the room. Beautiful, but …
something about it felt wrong. Anonymous, like a well-appointed hotel room.

Bailey stopped in the center and turned slowly around.

As her gaze landed on the bed, she wondered if this was the same bed he had shared
with True.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She forced thoughts of the other woman away. “It’s lovely.”

“You can redo it, any way you like.”

Bailey crossed to the balcony door, opened it and stepped out. He came up behind,
looping his arms around her and easing her against his chest.

“Who’s that?” she asked, indicating a man trudging through the woods beyond the brick
wall. A white dog was with him, running ahead, then circling back, only to dart ahead
again.

“Henry. He’s worked for our family forever. When you meet him, don’t be scared by
the way he looks, he’s a sweet, simple man.”

“Why would I be frightened of his looks?”

“He was mauled by a stallion. One of ours.”

“Oh, my God.”

“He sacrificed himself to save Mother. By the time we got him out, his injuries were
extensive. His body healed, but his brain didn’t. And his face … well, after a half-dozen
reconstructive surgeries, it seemed kinder to stop.”

“Does he live here, on the property?”

“He does. He has a small cabin on the far northeastern side.”

“What about the dog? What’s its name?”

“Tony.”