A Woman of Choice Page 12

  The room did darken, but it was Nicolas who manifested in the doorway. Sydney looked up from her soup and gasped.

  His shirt was slung over one broad shoulder and his muscular body was slicked with sweat. Tiny wood chips covered his hair, and stuck to the skin of his arms and the blond fur of his chest. The waistband of his breeches sagged so low that the line of darkening hair, which pointed from his flat stomach downward, was clearly visible.

  Rickard or no, Sydney could not look away.

  “Pappa you been choppin’ wood!” Stefan laughed. “You look like a woodchucker!”

  “I have and I’m mighty hungry.” Nicolas frowned as he glanced from Sydney to Rickard. “Has your Onkel Rick left me any food?”

  Rickard stood quickly and indicated that Nicolas should take his seat. “I just stopped by to say hello. Go ahead, Nick.”

  Nicolas sat at the table. He glanced at Rickard as Addie set a bowl of the meaty soup in front of him, but Rickard watched Sydney. She looked away and could not force herself to watch him back.

  Then Nicolas looked at Sydney. She slid the loaf of bread closer to him. Eyes now fixed on her meal, she ate another bite of soup-sopped bread, though her stomach was strongly disinclined. But she was at a complete loss for any other course of action in the inconceivably awkward presence of these two particular men.

  The silence between the three adults was as taut and noisy as Nicolas’s fiddle strings.

  Stefan, on the other hand, thoroughly enjoyed his peppermint.

  Chapter Fourteen

  May 12, 1819

  By the end of the week, Fyrste wore a saddle and allowed Sydney to ride him in the paddock. She broached the idea of taking him for a ride around the Hansen property.

  “Not alone, you’re not!” Nicolas blustered.

  Undaunted, Sydney suggested, “Fine, then. Come with me.”

  “Can I come?” Stefan asked, obviously eager to get away from his chores.

  Nicolas waved his hand. “I can’t, Sydney. I’ve a lot to accomplish today.”

  “It needn’t be a long ride,” Sydney pointed out. “And you have to eat sometime. Addie could pack us a lunch to take with us, couldn’t you Addie?”

  “Even so,” Addie agreed.

  Nicolas leaned back in his chair and cradled his coffee cup with both hands. He stared at it as though it might speak. When it declined, he shifted his gaze to Stefan.

  “Perhaps another time, eh? We need to give Fyrste a chance and he might not behave.”

  “Please, pappa?”

  Nicolas shook his head. “I can’t take you, Stefan. If there’s a problem with Fyrste, Sydney may have to ride back with me on Rusten.”

  “Fyrste will be good. Sydney will make him be!” Stefan insisted. “Please?”

  “I said not this time!” Nicolas barked. “Don’t ask me again!”

  Stefan shrank and didn’t provoke his pappa any further.

  Just after noon, Nicolas saddled his sorrel gelding and packed the lunch in his saddlebags. Sydney tied a rolled blanket behind Fyrste’s seat.

  “Where would you care to go?” Nicolas asked once they were mounted.

  Sydney shrugged. “The property line between your estate and Rickard’s?”

  “We shall only bide as long as you’re able to control that animal. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  Nicolas rode in front. He sat straight but relaxed, reins in one hand, the other resting on his thigh. His hair was tied, as usual, but Sydney imagined it loose in the breeze. He turned to look at her. His eyes out-blued the sky even on this perfect day.

  She smiled, content.

  “How’s he doing?” he asked. His voice wasn’t chocolate. It was an earthquake. And it shook her core.

  “I think he’s happy,” she answered. So am I.

  In truth, Fyrste did seem as glad as she to be out of the enclosures. Head up, tail high, his ears flicked forward and back as he took in every detail of the wooded landscape. The sun darted through branches above them and played peek-a-boo with the leaf-mulched forest floor.

  Comprised of ancient trees that topped forty feet or more, the forest smelled old. Under the sun-warmed aroma of young sprouts, lurked the thick reek of rotted leaves and decomposing wood. In the hollows, fungi flourished, releasing invisible spores that colored the scent of the air. New sap leeched from the bark of pine trees, adding a fresh tang and a reminder of winter.

  Soon Sydney rode abreast of Nicolas. They didn’t talk much, other than Nicolas pointing out the occasional landmark. But something about him was different. There weren’t lines on his face today.

  That was it. No tired lines. No irritated lines. No worry lines. No anger lines.

  No laugh lines.

  Nicolas led her to his estate’s border, and they followed it along the edge of the forest. A field of ridges, with tiny green fingers stretching out of the dark earth, came close to the forest rim.

  “This is the leased land,” Nicolas explained. “Looks like corn this year.”

  Sydney’s stomach growled assertively.

  “Did you say something?” he teased.

  Her cheeks warmed. “I reckon I didn’t have as big a breakfast as I thought.”

  “The creek is up ahead to the left. There’s a likely spot for a picnic.”

  When they reached the clearing they hobbled the horses. Nicolas pulled Addie’s provisions from his saddlebags while Sydney spread the woolen blanket on the ground. They ate without much conversation, and then Sydney asked the question that gnawed at her.

  “This isn’t the creek you found me in, is it?” She looked skeptically at the idyllic brook that gurgled down the gentle slope.

  Nicolas nodded and gestured with a nearly naked chicken bone. “It is, but you were upstream a ways, closer to town. Don’t be fooled by how it looks now, Sydney. With the winter melt and spring rains this creek gets very nasty.”

  “And cold,” Sydney remembered.

  “And cold.”

  Her vocal stomach now quieted, Sydney lay back on the blanket. She watched the leaves overhead, costumed in multiple shades of green, dancing with the breeze. Nicolas tossed the chicken bone into the water, and stretched out on his back next to her. He sighed deeply and rubbed his belly.

  “Lying here this way makes it seem as though time has stopped,” Sydney whispered.

  Nicolas rolled on his side to face her and propped his head on one elbow. “That it does.”

  Sydney was sensible of Nicolas’s vibrant masculinity lying only inches from her. The space between them was charged, like the air before a lightning strike. Desire eddied low in her belly, and sent out ripples.

  She needed a distraction. “Tell me about something.”

  “What do you wish to hear?” How could an earthquake be so soft and so devastating at the same time?

  Sydney couldn’t think of an answer. Her thoughts brimmed with how much she desired to pull Nicolas to her and do again what he did the night of the ball. She turned her face to his. Her lips parted—hoping for words—but none came out.

  Instead, Nicolas kissed them.

  His mouth was inquisitive at first, and then deliberate. She answered him eagerly, rent by the implicit lightning into two women. One recoiled in disgust at the wantonness of her behavior; the other knew she’d die without his touch. That need overshadowed all else.

  Nicolas’s arm reached to pull her closer when he halted in mid-kiss. His lips abandoned hers. He leaned back, incredulous, and looked over her shirt and breeches.

  “Are you wearing a corset?”

  A dousing of icy water would have been slightly less effective in killing the mood.

  “Ohhh!” Sydney groaned. “Don’t you believe in allowing a woman at least a modicum of dignity?”

  “I—I’m just surprised,” Nicolas stammered. “Taking into consideration what else you’re wearing.”

  Sydney sat up, rested her elbows on her knees and covered her face with her hands. She could not i
magine ever being as humiliated as she was at that moment. Would that dashed tornado never appear when she needed it?

  “It’s necessary for support,” she explained from behind the stiff bars of her fingers. “I took the corset I was wearing when you found me and cut the bottom off at my waist.”

  When he didn’t respond, Sydney glanced back at Nicolas through her splayed fingers and, seeing the confusion on his face, shook her head.

  “You’ve never had a bosom, have you?”

  Nicolas’s mouth popped open, but his astonished expression didn’t require explanation.

  “Well, as attractive as they may be, they’re rather heavy. And riding horseback is hard when the front half of you ‘gees’ and the rest of you ‘haws’!”

  Nicolas stared at her in wide-eyed shock.

  And then he burst into thunderous laughter. He laughed so hard, he couldn’t stop; his raucous guffaws echoed through the forest. He sat up to catch his breath, but still he laughed. He held his sides until tears ran down his cheeks, and still he laughed. He rolled to his hands and knees, pounding the blanket with his fist.

  And still he laughed.

  His enjoyment of the moment was so infectious that, despite her embarrassment, Sydney couldn’t help but laugh with him. She wiped her cheeks on her sleeve and giggled without control.

  “What a delight you are!” Nicolas wheezed. “Gees and haws! Å min Gud!”

  And he was off again, his face red, his body shaking, tears streaming. And the more he laughed, the more Sydney laughed.

  Nicolas lumbered to his feet, his laughter as yet undiminished.

  “Please excuse me, madam, I must visit the trees,” he managed before staggering several yards off. Sydney could hear him chortle in the distance, as well as his substantial stream splattering against dry leaves.

  “Gees and haws!” he whooped again. Sydney grinned.

  Nicolas returned and dropped to the blanket, still unable to regain complete control.

  “Oh, Sydney—I’m sorry to have attacked your dignity.” He wiped his eyes. “But I have not laughed this way in years!” And he sniggered again.

  Smiling, Sydney considered the huge man sitting in front of her. His face was a mess of laugh lines now, grooved into his sunburned features. Unrestrained joy replenished as soon as he wiped it away. His navy eyes sparkled. Sydney’s heart tumbled into the chasm of his delight.

  Nicolas was completely at ease for the first time since she met him. She saw the man that hid behind the long-held façade of pain. For a moment, the door was wide open and his silent room blazed with light.

  And then, without forethought or warning, she loved him.

  The day shattered into a million blades of brilliant ecstasy and brutal agony. Her joy and horror at the realization burst outward, and neither could be contained. She felt cut to ribbons by their intensity.

  Thankfully, the earlier sensual mood had now dissipated beyond recall. Sydney and Nicolas repacked their picnic, but she couldn’t look at him. She knew he would see, and he mustn’t see. He mustn’t be allowed to know how her world had shifted so tragically.

   

  As they continued their ride, they neared the Atherton manor. Nicolas shot Sydney a conspiratorial look.

  “Would you care to show Rickard that you can sit that beast? It might be amusing.”

  Nicolas had so many ulterior motives in that suggestion, they could scarce be counted. Let Rick see his own horsemanship bested by this woman. Let Rick see Sydney dressed in her dirty breeches and riding astride, and perchance shock him out of his interest in her. Let Lily see that Nick didn’t pine for her, but instead he relished Sydney’s easy company. Let them both see how glorious Sydney looked in spite of her apparel, and let everyone see what an amazing woman rode this huge stallion by his side.

  A shadow passed through Sydney’s expression, but she nodded.

  When they rode into the Athertons’ yard, Rickard threw open the door and stepped out onto the porch. Nicolas noticed signs of Fyrste’s discomfort, presumably at seeing Rickard again. Sydney dismounted quickly. She stood still on the lawn and kept a firm grip on the stallion’s reins. Nicolas tied Rusten to the hitching post and took the porch steps two at a time.

  “Rick!” He held out his hand. “We’ve missed you! We decided to come by and say hello!”

  Rickard shook Nick’s hand but he stared at Sydney. He turned disbelieving eyes to Nicolas.

  “Can you fathom the progress she’s made with that beast?” Nicolas waved a proud hand at Sydney. “I scarcely can, and I see it every day!” He thumped Rickard on the back.

  “Nicolas! I thought I heard your voice!” Lily danced out the front door. She wore a rose colored dress and matching slippers; her copper-streaked auburn hair was tied in a blue ribbon that matched her eyes. She beamed up at Nicolas.

  “What brings you—”

  Lily stopped and faced Sydney in the stained breeches and dusty work shirt. Her jaw opened in a silent shout, then wiggled its way around to an enormous grin. And then she began to laugh.

  In fact, she pointed and laughed until tears ran down her cheeks. She fanned her face, wiped her eyes and gripped her waist, gasping against her corset. That recalled to Nicolas’s mind Sydney’s unique, though unseen, garment.

  Twice today Sydney’s unconventional attire had inspired the same response, but on this occasion she did not join in the revelry. In fact, she frowned intently at the clear sky, as though she expected a storm.

  “Oh my!” Lily gasped. “In all my born days, I’ve never seen the likes! What in heaven’s name are you wearing?”

  Sydney glared at her. Then she glared at Nicolas.

  Rickard didn’t speak. Nor did Nicolas come to her defense. He glanced from one woman to the other as his mouth flapped impotently. He finally faced Rickard, who appeared as inept as he felt.

  Sydney stepped forward and deliberately tied Fyrste’s reins to the hitching post. She climbed the porch steps with straight-backed, high-chinned dignity and stopped in front of the three adults.

  “Good afternoon, Lily. Rickard.” Her voice drooled honey. “Nicolas and I haven’t seen the two of you since the May Day Ball, so we rode over here to invite you to dine with us tomorrow night. Will you come?” Sydney directed a dazzling smile at Rickard.

  Rickard’s gaze melted over Sydney. “We would love to! Isn’t that so, Lily?”

  Lily frowned.

  Nicolas was surprised by the invitation. He deduced that whatever dampened Sydney’s spirit the last time she saw Rickard, was now behind her. That deduction blew a cannonball hole through his belly.

  He was also surprised that Lily was not as pleased by the invitation as he would have expected. While that was puzzling, it was of no consequence.

  “Wonderful!” Sydney oozed. “We shall expect you both at candlelighting tomorrow, then.”

  “I am—that is, we’re looking forward to it.” Rickard returned Sydney’s smile.

  Sydney turned and walked regally down the porch steps to the hitching post.

  Nicolas followed her willingly, though a scowl pressed his brow down. This visit did not end in any way in the same manner it began. What flipped it around?

  Fyrste was skittish, not pleased with being mounted again. Sydney bent over and checked his shoes. She raised her face to his.

  “May I ride with you, Nicolas?” Her eyes begged him for an affirmative answer. “It seems Fyrste has picked up a stone.”

  Without a word, Nicolas jerked a nod and gave Sydney a leg up into his saddle. He looped the stallion’s reins around Rusten’s saddle horn, and then mounted behind Sydney. He forced a pleasant expression and tone.

  “See you tomorrow night, then!” He waved at the pair on the porch. Sydney waved as well.

  Nicolas urged Rusten to an easy canter across the green manicured expanse. Once out of sight of the manor, Nicolas slowed the horses to a walk.

  “So, do you mind telling me what the helvete that was all
about?” he demanded.

  Sydney presented a tentative profile. “Uh, which part in particular?”

  “Let’s start with the invitation to dinner.”

  Nicolas entertained the uncomfortable notion that Sydney manipulated the afternoon to end up this way, so she could arrange time with Rickard. Never mind that the visit to the Athertons’ was entirely his suggestion.

  “Lily humiliated me and I felt the need to redeem myself. All I could think of was to turn the other cheek. Inviting them to dine with us was the first idea that came to mind.”

  “It’s not your place to do so.”

  The profile was replaced by a black braid and a stiff back. “Well some one needed to do some thing.”

  Nicolas clenched his jaw. Embarrassment washed through him; an emotion he was unaccustomed to and didn’t know how to deflect. He reviewed the conversation until he unearthed his failure.

  Lily’s attack. He didn’t defend Sydney. And to make it worse, he mistrusted her motives.

  But he didn’t know what to say to her.

  “I’m sorry, Nicolas, if I did overstep.”

  Her brusque apology startled him out of his mortified silence.

  “No, Sydney,” he said in her ear. His lips brushed against her neck. “I’m the one who must apologize. You were right to act the way you did.” He tightened his hold on her waist. “I’m sorry.”

  After a minute or two, she relaxed against him. “Accepted,” she whispered.

  He enjoyed the feel of her weight against his chest. “Did Fyrste really have a stone?”

  The words poured out of her. “No. He was tired of being ridden. And I believe he got nervous when he saw Rickard. But after what occurred with Lily, I couldn’t bring myself to say that I wasn’t able to ride him. So I concocted the stone story.”

  Sydney twisted around and looked Nicolas in the eye. “If you wish to put me down, I could try him again.”

  “No, it’s quite alright. We’re almost halfway home. We’ll give the poor animal a break; after all, he’s had a big day.”

  “You don’t mind?”