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He recalled her peculiar comments about something called television and satellites while he clung to life at the pond. Was it delirium from the cold? Had she actually spoken of making moving pictures and flying through the air? He scrutinized her, trying to see something different, perhaps something mystical. He actually considered for a moment that she might--perhaps that was why--

No, he dismissed the thought.
No one
traveled through time.

He lay in his bed, content for the first time in ages with Jaci beside him. He would doze only to awaken when she moved her hips, or an elbow, poking him in the side or the hip. Late in the afternoon, Selkirk came in to see to his needs, but Nicholas waved him away with a smile. Though the butler raised an eyebrow at the two of them in bed, he said not a word. Nicholas wondered exactly how many seconds it would take for that news to reach the rest of the staff.

As the sun began to set, he glanced out the window to where his horses raced about the paddock. Wind Dancer pranced, commanding the most attention, and indeed the mares did seem to stop and take notice of him. Nicholas smiled, for inside Wildwood, unlike the paddock, the females appeared to be in control rather than the males.

Even in her sleep, Jaci must have sensed his thoughts, for she rolled over one last time and awakened. She shot straight up in the bed, glancing wildly around as she brushed her hair from her eyes.

"Oh, my heavens. What did I do?" Her wide green gaze met his and her cheeks blushed a delightful rosy pink. Obviously embarrassed, she bounded out of bed, at least not crawling over him this time.

"I do hope you feel quite rested. Do you know you toss around quite a lot when you sleep?"

"I do not," she huffed as she flounced to the door.

"And you snore," he couldn't resist adding.

She turned sideways to look at him, her mouth gapping open. "I most
certainly
do not."

He watched her quickly disappear and for the first time since his accident, he laughed outright. If the prickly Miss Eastman meant to stay around Wildwood, she had better get used to being teased.

His horses caught his attention again, and this time when he looked, his thoughts took a different turn. Amanda had told him that Miss Eastman had said he had to fight back to get better. Of course, everyone in the house quoted Miss Eastman, including Cameron, but it appeared to Nicholas, now that he had gotten past his initial bitterness, that perhaps she was right. She seemed to adjust, no matter the circumstances, and he supposed for the interest and welfare of his niece, and Wildwood, he must do the same.

However, if the inordinately stubborn female thought to rearrange his life without his permission, she had better think again. He rang for Selkirk. By the time the butler appeared, Nicholas already had a drawing of what he needed from Mackey.

Selkirk dryly asked what kind of mess Nicholas planned on making with the wood and tools he ordered, and Nicholas grinned.

"Quite a large mess, Selkirk. I trust you'll take that news back to all concerned?"

Chapter Fifteen

Jaci smiled as she exited Nicholas's room. She had no idea what he was carving out of the wood Mackey and Sam had hauled into the study last week. She didn't care, either, for at least he had decided to do
something.

The first day it happened, she had hollered about the wood shavings scattered across the floor. The second day, an even bigger mess had appeared. She nagged again and he simply grinned at her. It was then she realized the game he played.

He had very little control over his life at the moment. No doubt this was one way of getting back at her for taking charge. The more she hollered, the larger mess he made. It was childish, to be sure, but she decided to play along, for it was good to see him sitting in a chair instead of laying on his bed. In the event he never did walk again, carving would serve him well and allow him to find usefulness for his life.

Of course, she hadn't given up on his walking, for she saw evidence every day that his nerves responded to her therapy. Sometimes, she swore a muscle twitched, or that his toes curled in response to her massage. Whenever she mentioned it, though, he would become agitated, and she soon learned to keep quiet. It seemed if he couldn't jump out of bed and run as fast as Wind Dancer, he wouldn't acknowledge any change.

She deposited his breakfast tray in the kitchen. Her smile stayed in place, for she knew in her heart that he would get well. Then he would decide he loved her after all, and they would live happily ever after. She almost laughed outright, for her attitude had taken quite a turn over the past several months. She didn't mind, for love did that to a person.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of voices. Selkirk was speaking to someone--a female. Jaci hurried towards the front of the house, rounding the staircase as a skirt disappeared into the parlor.

"Selkirk, who just arrived?"

"Miss Edwardson," the butler responded, but appeared a little out of sorts.

Her heart started pounding.
Lycinda.
It had been months since she had thought of the woman Nicholas was suppose to marry. The woman who hadn't even shown up to find out how he fared. She instinctively lowered her voice. "What's she doing here?"

"I don't know, miss. It's not my place to ask. I put her in the parlor for the moment. I wasn't sure if she should go to the study, since it is now Mr. Westbrooke's bedroom."

"Well, she can't see him." Jaci squared her shoulders, ready for a fight.

"Excuse me?" Selkirk looked at her askew.

She paced back and forth. "I won't have her upsetting Nicholas." She actually didn't know whether that would happen. She only knew that Nicholas didn't need anyone else in his life for whom he felt responsible, but unable to help at the moment. "Oh, where is Cameron when I need him?" she muttered to herself before grabbing Selkirk's arm.

"Stall her." She grabbed her cloak and flew out the front door, hoping Cameron was by the track and not clear down at the barn.

The warmer weather had begun melting the snow, and she tried sidestepping the puddles, for her slippers weren't the kind of shoes to wear outdoors, even on fair days. She finally gave up, grabbed her skirts high and walked in a straight line, regardless of the water.

Her gaze darted back and forth, looking for Nicholas's brother, but her mind was back at the house, trying to guess what would happen. She envisioned Lycinda, remorseful and sympathetic about the accident and Nicholas marrying her out of gratitude. Jealousy bit and Jaci decided Lycinda had come instead to demand Nicholas fulfill his obligation and marry her, but all the woman really wanted was his money and Wildwood.

She stopped and turned in a circle. Not finding Cameron anywhere within her vision, she started back to the house. Lycinda's arrival at this particular time might cause irreversible damage, crushing Nicholas's fragile ego, right when he had begun to think himself capable again. She was not about to let that happen.

Her foot slipped coming up the steps and she had just recovered her balance when the door opened and Lycinda hurried out. The other woman didn't acknowledge her presence, but Jaci saw her watery eyes and evidence of crying on her face. She watched as Lycinda climbed into her carriage and the driver whipped the horses into action. The carriage rumbled down the drive and out of sight.

Great.
All her work, all the energy she had spent getting Nicholas to take hold of life again. If Lycinda left in tears, Jaci had no doubts that Nicholas was in just as fine a mood. She kicked off her slippers and tossed her cloak at the rack, determined to get to the bottom of their conversation as quickly as possible. There was no sense letting him brood too much.

She entered the study to find the curtains closed and Nicholas back in bed. He hadn't spent a day in bed all week. It must be worse than she imagined.

She got right to the point. "What did Lycinda say?"

"Nothing; get out."

She jerked open the curtains. "Don't even think about starting that with me again." She turned back to him, but he faced the wall and she couldn't read his expression.

"Nicholas, talk to me." She didn't touch him. His body was taut and she knew he would only pull away.

He still wouldn't look at her as he spoke, his voice anguished, even though he tried to sound nonchalant. "Who would want to be saddled with a husband who can't make lo...fulfill his duties to sire offspring?"

"She
broke up
with you?" That was one scene she hadn't contemplated.

Nicholas scoffed. "It seems the lady wants a whole man for her husband, not an invalid."

"Well, it's her loss," Jaci stated emphatically. "She doesn't deserve such a man as you."

"And what kind of woman would?"

"I don't understand. You are a good, kind, loving person, and soon you'll be well and on your feet again--"

"That seemed to be the other part of the lady's dilemma." Nicholas interrupted her as he dragged himself upright. She saw the anger in his eyes, and wondered if perhaps it was a good sign, rather than bad, that he was showing some spirit. "Apparently Miss Edwardson's father is very concerned for my health."

From the insinuation in his voice, she knew his words weren't to be taken at face value. "What is that suppose to mean?"

"If I can't be on my feet, Wildwood horses won't be trained to win races, and Wildwood studs won't breed colts to sell." He wouldn't look her in the eye, trying to preserve some of his dignity. "Since Lycinda's father holds bank notes to this place, it might very well be the end of Wildwood."

"We'll see about that." She was livid and marched right over to the door, intent on seeing justice done. Nobody was going to take Nicholas's home away.

"Ironic, isn't it?" His voice caught her attention. She turned back. "Lycinda beat me to the punch by breaking our engagement. Although I was going at it for entirely different...well, never mind. It doesn't matter now."

"You mean you don't love me any more?" Jaci knew she pushed him, but felt they had reached a real turning point in his recovery.

"I never meant to say that. It makes no difference now."

"Like hell," she muttered as she slammed out the door, plans already racing around in her head. They had not come this far to have Nicholas give up on himself, and her.

* * *

That evening, Jaci had Cameron take Nicholas's dinner to him with explicit instructions that he discuss the horse racing and breeding aspects of Wildwood. If they were to keep Wildwood profitable, Nicholas's work would have to continue until he could see to it himself.

In the meantime, she visited with Mackey and Selkirk about a different project. Mackey started shaking his head the moment he entered the parlor.

"What is it, Mackey? I haven't even told you what we're going to do," she said to the old trainer.

"Doesn't make no difference, miss, if you'll pardon my saying so. Your schemes tend to raise the roof right off this place." He doffed his hat and stood there twisting it in his big hands, clearly uncomfortable in the formal sitting room.

"Mackey, would I do anything to upset--well, never mind; of course I would--but it's for his own good."

Both Selkirk and Mackey groaned at this, but she proceeded to lay out the plans for her newest project to help Nicholas. Both men left the room shaking their heads, but assuring her they would do as she wanted.

Now it was up to her. That night, she soaked in a warm bath in front of the fire in her room, daydreaming about the plot she had concocted. If Nicholas thought to roll over and ignore her, he had another thought coming.

She had refused all her life to give her heart away, and now that she had, she wasn't about to let any man stomp on it. She chewed her bottom lip. Was Nicholas ready for her latest scheme? What if she were wrong?

* * *

"Lady, I told you to get out."

Jaci smiled as she quietly locked the door. Nicholas called her Lady in that peculiar tone of voice when he was super mad; when Jaci, or even Miss Eastman just didn't convey his scorn at her interference.

"Nicholas, I can help you, if you will only let me." She slowly approached the bed where he lay, pillows propped behind his back. She thought they had been making progress, but he looked so lost. A man who was used to being in control and active couldn't confine his spirit to a bed. That fact was quite evident today.

His hair was in wild disarray, the curls at his nape and falling across his forehead much longer than fashionable. The bed covers were tangled, and she wondered if he fought battles even in his dreams.

She quietly set the overturned chair upright--further evidence that he had tried to get out of bed. She didn't care if he dragged himself clear across the room. It meant he was trying, and that meant her assumptions were correct.

You would think he'd give up telling her to leave him alone, because she always ignored him. They had the same argument almost every afternoon when she entered his room. Why did nineteenth century men think they had to dominate everyone and everything? Why couldn't they accept the fact that sometimes they needed someone else, as much as that someone needed them?

That was the crux of the matter. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed Nicholas, and had fallen in love with him. Her gaze came up and locked with stormy gray eyes.

The battle they fought always ended the same. He would tell her to get out; she would stay, wordlessly massaging his legs and exercising the muscles. He would glower at her, but she wouldn't leave; and he wouldn't admit that he liked having her there.

Now she was tired of the stalemate, and decided to press the issue. Her feelings were mixed. She wanted him and felt, despite his verbal abuse, that he wanted her, too. What if she pushed him and he didn't respond, or didn't find her desirable enough to make the effort? She didn't know what would hurt worse--her feminine ego, or his sense of manliness. She was willing to take the chance. Was it fair of her not to ask him to do the same?