Carousel (21 page)

Amanda squealed in delight when she opened the lid to find a pretty rag doll waiting for her hug. "I knew Papa wouldn't forget. Did he say when he would be home?" She raced to Nicholas and gave him a hug.

"Soon, Muffin. He'll be home soon." He returned her hug, but his gaze connected with Jaci's over the top of Amanda's head.

She slowly shook her head when he winked at her. She smiled in return, silently mouthing the words,
"You are wonderful,"
letting him know she knew the truth and understood.

* * *

Sleigh bells jingled as the horse pranced across the hard packed snow. Amanda giggled when Jaci sang a song she called "Jingle Bells", and Nicholas felt content with his world. He hadn't declared himself to Jaci again; he didn't want to pressure her. It didn't bother him at all that she denied his love. The wonder in the kisses they had shared told a different story.

He lightly touched the reins to the back of the horse, clicking softly under his breath, relaxing to enjoy the winter scenery. Brown tufts of grass still showed sporadically, waving stiffly in the cold air. A continuously curving set of parallel lines from previous sleigh runners cut through the snow on the side of the hill. Those would disappear fast enough if another storm came through. The silence of a winter snow was overwhelming. As much power as the swirling masses of moisture contained, the white flakes bombarded everything in sight without a sound.

His musings were cut off when Jaci spoke, her thoughts reflecting his own. "The stark contrast between the pristine snow and dark bark of those bare trees makes me wish for my camera. I'd love to capture the beauty of Wildwood in photographs."

"You take pictures?" He vaguely recalled her comments about being a photographer.

"Yes," she sighed, "I did at one time. My idol was Ansel Adams. He took the most beautiful pictures--the contrasts were vivid--and yet he only used black and white film."

"What other kind is there?" He didn't know much about photography, but he did know it had progressed beyond the brownish tones of a daguerreotype.

She appeared taken back by his question, but shook her head and simply stated, "Never mind. Tell me about Wildwood."

"My family has been here three generations. Grandfather tried farming, but decided breeding horses was a lot less work. He invested a tremendous amount of money purchasing the best thoroughbreds available anywhere in the world. My father continued that tradition, as have I."

"Your house and arenas and track all look well tended."

"Breeding horses, either for show or racing, involves much more than the animals. It takes skilled people and good facilities. The birthing stalls are…well, never mind." He flashed her a grin. "You'll have to excuse me. When I speak of Wildwood, I tend to forget myself."

"You have every reason to be proud. It's beautiful."

He did feel pride--not only in his home, but in Jaci, for she saw the hidden beauty of Wildwood as well as he did.

"Wildwood does tend to be isolated. We have no neighbors for miles around, and as you have probably determined, I'm not much for entertaining. In the winter, trips into the city become even less frequent."

She responded as he hoped she would, although she couldn't have realized how important her answer was to him. "I don't mind the solitude. I never was much of a socialite."

He clicked the horse into a trot for home, feeling good about his decision. He had no doubts that Jaci would marry him, though she might need convincing. He loved the lady sitting on the seat beside him, and knew she had intense feelings, too. He intended to explore those feelings more fully once he had released Lycinda from any obligation.

"I must go to Philadelphia," he said without preamble.
The sooner the better,
he added to himself. "Tomorrow."

"But Uncle Nicholas, you promised to take us ice skating. You even got me new skates for Christmas, 'member?"

Nicholas sighed. "You're right, Muffin. I'll go to Philadelphia the day after."

* * *

The day dawned crystal clear, and as promised, Nicholas bundled Amanda, Jaci and Molly beneath blankets and furs in the sleigh, allowing Amanda to sit up front with him. At the last minute, Sir Lancelot jumped into the sleigh and snuggled down at Amanda's feet.

"Go on with you now; scat." Molly tried to shoo the dog away, but Amanda protested, hugging the dog around the neck.

"He's an Irish Setter, isn't he?" Jaci asked. "Aren't they hunting dogs?"

"Well, Sir Lancelot here isn't much of a hunter." Nicholas playfully reached down to scratch behind the dog's ear. "Unless you count hunting for a scrap off Amanda's plate." Sir Lancelot whined as though in protest and everyone laughed.

The single horse had no trouble pulling the sleigh across the hard packed snow on the lane, and Nicholas assured them the pond lay close enough to the road that they wouldn't have far to walk. Immediately upon arriving at the pond, he gathered enough wood to start a small fire should they get chilled while skating.

While Molly helped Amanda put on her skates, Jaci struggled with her own, swatting aside petticoats and heavy velvet skirts. "It was much easier in pants and a sweater," she mumbled under her breath, wondering how on earth she would ever stand up, much less skate across the frozen pond.

"What's that, miss?" The ever vigilant Molly lifted her head from lacing Amanda's skates.

"Never mind. It's of no consequence." Jaci stopped in the middle of knotting the second skate.
Dear me, I'm even beginning to talk like them.

Her thoughts were immediately diverted when Amanda squealed. She straightened her skirts carefully around her legs as she watched the child glide out onto the ice, her cheeks rosy with cold and excitement. For such a young child, she skated exceptionally well, and Jaci assumed it was the circumstances.

At Wildwood, the pond was always available in winter, and cost nothing. By contrast, she and Mandy used to go to the indoor rink at the Galleria, paying for the privilege of skating for an hour or two. Because of that, the opportunity hadn't come along very often.

"Miss Eastman, perhaps you would stay warmer if you got off that log and moved about."

She glanced up sharply as a shadow crossed her vision. Nicholas, handsome as always in his greatcoat and wool trousers, extended a hand to her.

She wondered when she had fallen in love with him. The words didn't surprise her today, even though two days ago she had protested such an idea. Deep in her heart, she had already known the truth. She shook her head in wonder.

For most of her adult life, she had tried to avoid macho males who wanted to run her life, and yet here she was, stuck in the wrong century with just such a man. And the problem? She didn't seem to mind it.

Nicholas had a magnetic personality which drew others to him, herself included, and his smile was enough to make a girl faint, or swoon, or whatever they did in 1874. He had a terrific sense of humor, talked to her intelligently and not in a condescending manner, and seemed to value her as an individual. Of course, when they argued, it was as violent as the thunderstorms that shook the earth, but even their fights had sent shivers of excitement through her.

So what's the problem?
she asked herself. Aside from the fact that she didn't belong here and didn't know how long she would stay? She shook her head to clear it as she allowed him to pull her out onto the ice, deciding today wasn't made for worrying.

"You're much more graceful on skates than the back of a horse," he teased as he skated in front of her.

Her skirts billowed out about her, but she found they didn't inhibit her movements like she thought they would.

Nicholas was showing off by tipping forward, one foot lifted behind him in the air. She pushed him, catching him off balance. He wobbled and fell on his fanny.

"Alas, it's too bad you're not. Do you always end up on your as...derriere?" She stood in front of him to judge his reaction.

His grin was infectious, and she threw back her head and laughed, tossing all her dire thoughts to the wind. She turned and skated away, but he quickly caught up with her.

"Here, try this," he challenged as he expertly turned in front of her, capturing her hands in his and resting one of them on his shoulder. With no apparent effort on his part, he skated backwards while guiding her into the steps of a waltz. Though awkward at first, she soon found she actually did move more gracefully on skates with all her petticoats than she did on dry land. She began to hum a tune in time to their movements.

"I cannot figure you out. You have no apparent skills; you have said yourself you were not reared in any of the womanly arts. Yet you adapt to almost any task set before you--cooking, teaching Amanda, riding; even dancing on ice. However do you manage?"

He spun her in a graceful circle, his movements bringing her closer. She knew they could only have a relationship based on honesty, and her newly awakened love made her reckless. She flashed him an impish grin as she answered his question. "Television."

"What?"

She had to clutch his shoulder tightly to keep from tumbling when he jerked her tight against him. She had tried to explain before, but he always refused to listen, forever falling back on that age-old male doctrine that women didn't know what they were talking about.

"Television. It's a machine that shows moving pictures to educate. You see, I watch the cooking shows on PBS, ice skating at the Olympics, and all the old movies on Saturday nights."

He stopped abruptly and she slammed into his hard chest. She curled her fingers around the lapels of his coat before bringing her gaze up to the silver gleam of his eyes.

"I think we have had this conversation before." Puffs of frosty air punctuated his remarks. "I wonder perhaps if you will ever fully recover from your original injury. I doubt you would still spout nonsense about magic boxes and flying machines if you had." He had not let her go; his arms circled her in a cocoon of warmth, his breath only adding to the heat of her blush.

Did he feel the electricity like she did--the need to touch him even when she knew she shouldn't? She tilted her head back, her gaze taking in the wayward lock of black hair falling across his forehead, the gray at the temples that only enhanced his appearance. When she shrugged nonchalantly to relieve the tension, he grinned, his full sensuous lips parting to reveal straight white teeth. She lightly tugged on his lapels to bring him closer.

As often as they had kissed recently, she should have been prepared. Even so, it amazed her at how quickly passion ignited in his gaze. His lips swiftly descended to hers, capturing the breath from her body and bathing her in warmth. She had always laughed at her sister's description of jolts of electricity from a simple kiss, but now she realized it could happen--it was happening.

The buzzing in her head reminded her of the accident at the carousel, and she wondered if she would open her eyes and be back in Dallas. Perhaps becoming involved with a man from the wrong century was what she needed to return to her own time.

When the pressure on her spine and mouth lessened and she opened her eyes, however, she found Nicholas staring strangely at her. Her mittened fingers shook as they touched her mouth, still tender from his kiss; her heart pounded a rhythm too fast to count. She had remained in Nicholas's time. Tears stung her eyes as she realized she was immensely glad she had
not
been transported.

"Uncle Nicholas, Miss Eastman--watch!" Amanda called for their attention and she didn't have time to dwell on her mixed up emotions.

She did notice that Molly, who preferred not to skate, sat by the fire, her gaze carefully averted. Even so, Jaci blushed. She didn't know how her actions looked to Molly. With a sigh, she switched her thoughts and attention to Amanda, who was turning tiny circles further out on the pond.

"Be careful, Muffin," Nicholas called to his niece, ever mindful of their safety. Jaci heard the yearning in his voice, and knew he thought of Amanda as his own daughter.

"Oh, Uncle Nicholas, you know I am. Don't be an old fuddy-duddy."

Suddenly her scream rent the still morning. Horrified, Jaci watched as, in slow motion, Amanda began to sink through the ice.

"Amanda!" Nicholas bellowed a denial even as he raced towards the hole that had swallowed his niece. Jaci scrambled after him, her heart in her throat and her breath coming in short gasps.

Nicholas fell forward and slid the last several feet as he reached for Amanda. He paid no attention to the popping and hissing, but before her eyes, the ice cracked open further around the hole. She stopped well away from the turbulence, realizing she would do no good if she, too, fell through the thin sheet covering this part of the pond.

She watched, terrified, as Nicholas snatched Amanda from the jagged edges of the ice. Although time stretched interminably, he had reacted quickly and it was actually only seconds before he clutched a wet Amanda to his chest. He jerked his coat off and wrapped it around the little girl.

"Hurry, Nicholas, we must get her dried off," Jaci yelled as Amanda coughed and wheezed, shivering violently. He struggled to his feet, but as he began to skate forward, an ominous crackling vibrated around them. Jaci reached out as the ice gave way with a mighty groan.

Nicholas threw Amanda forward, and Jaci grabbed at her. Together, they fell backward, Amanda's wet dress and petticoats causing her to weigh twice as much as normal. She bundled the girl in her arms, scooting backwards on her fanny, digging the heels of her skates into the ice to give her traction. She scrambled around at the edge of the pond, keeping her gaze focused on Amanda's breathing.

Sir Lancelot yipped, racing around in a tight circle by Jaci, trying to get closer to Amanda.

"Miss Eastman, Mister Westbrooke--he's..." White-faced, Molly pointed.

Jaci turned to scan the broken surface of the pond. Where was Nicholas? Where?

"Nicholas!" Even as she screeched his name, she thrust Amanda into Molly's arms and scrambled back onto the icy surface. Sir Lancelot whined, grabbing a mouthful of her skirts and pulling, trying to keep her from leaving the bank. The pond was literally falling to pieces, and huge cracks now criss-crossed the surface. Suddenly Nicholas's head appeared from where he had fallen through another weak spot.