Rescuing Mr. Gracey (33 page)

She smiled sadly. Tragedy loomed, and she must take responsibility for the renewed courtship.

During the last week, Alec coaxed more and more time from Mary, reading, chatting, and taking walks. Isabella had even overheard them arguing politics and religion with hushed whispers. Alec gained strength every day, and as long as Mary lingered, the world paused for their stolen time.

Isabella was relieved that Mary seemed to have forgiven Alec, for her son was so very in love with the lovely woman. Even Mr. Gracey had given Alec the space to court, though her husband believed the girl from a family in southern Ireland. Isabella knew she risked much, but she was gambling that Mary was wiggling into her husband’s heart and that when he discovered the truth, he would not rage against them all.

“I do approve of Miss Frances, Alec,” Alexander said in a low, conspiratorial tone.

Alec burst with mirthful laughter. “Do you now? She is a fine lady, you think?”

“Aye. Aye, ’tis true.”

“She would make a fine wife,” Alec responded.

Isabella’s heart clenched. The elder Gracey eagerly nodded. “Aye. A fine wife, indeed, son.”

Alec burst into merry laughter, completely confounding his father. “I am happy we agree, Father. ’Tis been a long while since that occurred.”

Isabella saw Mary enter, hesitating slightly when she saw Mr. Gracey still at the table. No matter how much time had passed, Mary still feared her husband.
Who can blame her?
Isabella thought, looking guiltily at her hands.

“Daniel said you wished to see me.”

“Well, now, don’t ya look lovely this morn, Miss Frances,” Mr. Gracey replied, rising.

Alec nodded. “We agree again, Father. The morning’s glorious flowers will hide with such competition for beauty.”

Mary blushed, her dimples peeping in her cheeks. She ran nervous hands down the skirt of the blue linen dress. “I believe the Gracey men have kissed the Blarney Stone while the house slept.”

Both men laughed, but Isabella watched as Alec’s eyes, dancing and hungry, caressed the Irish girl. His hand possessively clasped Mary’s. “I’ve a surprise for you today, Miss Frances. How about a horseback ride?”

Mary visibly paled, and her aqua eyes grew wide with alarm. “I don’t believe the idea to be wise, sir.”

“Have ya ridden much?” Mr. Gracey inquired.

“I…can’t…um…no, sir. I can’t say I have…” Mary licked her lips and shook her head no.

Gracey senior chuckled. “Well, now. No one is a better rider than me own son,” he said, slapping Alec on the back. “He trained his black steed himself, though the horse nearly broke his neck. My guess is that Ringo will be anxious to fly across the field, having been locked up while you lay abed.” Gracey diverted his attention back to his son. “Ya must take special care not to go too fast, nor leave Miss Frances behind, son.”

Alec chuckled. “Your concerns are for naught, sir. Miss Frances will not leave my sight.”

Isabella clasped her napkin tight. A huge merging of emotions swept her—guilt, worry, joy, and awe—as she watched her son transform before her. How had she not noticed how burdened Alec had become? Watching him now, his expression delighted, amorous, and full of teasing youthfulness, she realized how long it had been since she had seen him so relaxed.

A sudden blur of tears forced her to look down to recover. How would he bear the ache when Mary was gone? How would any of them live with themselves after the pretense ended? An eerie chill raced up Isabella’s neck as she watched the way the two looked at each other. Isabella rose. “I will see to those items you needed, Alec.”

She touched her son’s arm upon leaving. For a brief space of time, she communicated her warning. He blinked, acknowledging understanding. But then his jaw tightened, and he diverted his attention away again.

Oh, my son. In a few days, I will need to stitch your shattered heart and calm the fury of your father…and cry my own tears of loss.

~ 30 ~

“Never bow down to priest or Pope…”

Her feet dragged, resisting progress toward the horses. “Alec, I insist we return to the house. You’re endangering your health.”

He chuckled and placed an insistent hand upon her lower back to urge her forward. Mary’s terrified fingers clutched his arm more tightly, and he chuckled, freely admitting he’d bullied her into this adventure. “Trust me, Mary.”

Mary chewed her lower lip, pulling his attention to her lush mouth. The memory of the taste of her sweet lips, heated breath, and frantic hands tightened his stomach with desire. How had he forgotten that farewell kiss? Regret kicked in his chest. Until this moment, he thought the gauzy memory was a feverish dream of hopelessness and frenzied desperation mixed with passionate departure. The shared intimacy had quite slipped away from his memory, he thought with amazement.

Now, as he locked his gaze on those slightly puffy, very pink lips, desire slammed into him with brutal force. He longed for another chance—a less frantic moment where her delicate frame would fit against him, and the haunting scent of roses would surround him, and when his aching fingers would thread into her silky hair, and he might fully enjoy her without anguish.

He swallowed and darted his gaze away. Best not think of that now lest he send her screaming toward the house. ’Twas enough he challenged her to ride a horse.

Poking her pride, he said, “Have I discovered something that frightens you, Miss Frances?” He let his teasing smile provoke her further. “Has a well-trained pony defeated the famous Smyth courage?”

As expected, Mary tilted her proud chin. “Don’t doubt me courage, sir,” she replied, the slip of accent betraying fear.

“That’s what I thought.” He could not help grinning. Pointing to the tiny brown horse whose head hung with sleepy indifference, Alec tried to recover the urge to laugh. “Miss Mary, may I introduce you to Bell, your gentle ride for today.”

Mary eyed the little horse as if confronting a ferocious beast. His own huge black stallion nudged his arm and redirected his attention. “You’ve missed me, Ringo.” He laughed, stroking his horse’s long nose.

Mary lifted a worried brow.

“I’ve been a wee bit sick,” he said to his horse. “But this fine lady healed me well. Give her a bow of gratitude.” The tall horse stretched a long leg and lowered his head toward the ground.

Eyes wide with wonder, Mary giggled, her gaze reflecting a childlike glee. “There’s a fine gentleman indeed, Master Ringo.” Ringo nodded his head as if he agreed, and she laughed again.

Alec placed a sugar cube in Mary’s small palm. “Bell has a fondness for sweets. Extend your hand and see if you don’t befriend her.”

Suspiciously, she looked at the sugar. Slowly, she stretched her hand forward. As expected, Bell closed the short distance to Mary. Alec watched as her trembling hand remained open. Bell nosed her palm, blowing a ticklish puff of air before her thick lips enclosed the sugar.

As if she had just completed a great feat of bravery, Mary beamed. Two hesitant fingers stroked the horse’s soft nose. “Perhaps you are not so terrifying, little Bell.”

An odd joy streaked through Alec’s heart. He pondered the impossible gift of Mary, here, seeing his life, sharing his home, family…horse. His hopeful smile expanded, and he folded his arms against a wildly thudding heart.

The fragile ribbons of trust, so gently presented to her, were being accepted. He prayed he had the patience to continue the courtship at a leisurely pace. To do otherwise meant her departure for home.

“You know, this is the first time I’ve been this near to a horse,” she said, redirecting his thoughts. Her delicate hand stroked Bell’s neck. “Such an animal does not visit my world.”

Alec hated being reminded of the obstacles. “We are about to remedy that lack of education,” he said, hoping he sounded unconcerned.

Mary glanced over her shoulder, her aqua eyes sparkling. So tempting. So very delicious. Mischievously, he curled his hand around the small of her back and, with a gentle tug, snuggled her near his chest. Her eyes grew larger still. “Shall I help you mount her?”

She flicked her tongue over her lips, and his gut tightened. “She looks too big.”
 

The statement, beyond ridiculous, tickled his mood. “Mary, we use Bell to teach toddlers how to ride.” Her sweet rose scent, her small but supple frame against his, the breath from her lips puffing on his face all stimulated something long denied. He lowered his voice. “We could skip riding if you wish to stay here with me.”

Her gaze, intrigued and terrified, dropped to his lips. His hand, of its own accord, caressed the silk of her neck and urged her closer.

Her mouth opened; her breath caught. “I…I tink…” Blinking, she shifted her focus toward the horse. She cleared her throat and pulled back. “I’m thinking the horse looks more harmless than the human.”

Force of will moved him away. He kicked the step aside, and as easily as plucking a beautiful flower, he deposited her into the saddle. Her hands clutched his shoulders. Her bottom teetered for balance. “Trust me, Mary. I am very intent on seeing to all your needs, especially your well-being. I promise you are safe.”

“If that were the case, I would not be astride a horse.”

Alec chuckled as he settled her with reins and inserted her feet into the sidesaddle stirrups. Bell sighed and stomped one hoof.

Mary screamed. As Bell lunged forward, Mary dropped the reins and encircled her arms about the horse’s neck. “Alec… This cannot be healthy. I’m tinkin’ ’twould be wiser to walk.”

Never having witnessed this quivering side of Mary, he was unable to suppress a hearty laugh. Her eyes flashed like lightning. She bolted up and straightened her back. Lifting her chin, she tossed fallen locks from her eyes.

Aye, here is the Mary I love,
he thought, swallowing the smile that wanted to burst forward.
Adorable.
He could gobble her whole, trapping her forever inside his arms. “Mary, you must trust me,” he said, lacing each word with gentle patience. “Bell’s temperament is such that she will likely fall asleep while you try to move her forward.”

“I am not sure you warrant my trust, Mr. Gracey.”

Careful, Alec.
Though potentially dangerous, Alec approached her pride. “Is this the fearless lass who nightly walked through dark forests and in and out of dangerous streets? This is but a wee horse that barely reaches your waist.”

Her brogue bubbled out as she placed her hands upon her hips, looking down at the stirrups. “Since me feet are a ways up off the ground, I’m tinkin’ the dark forest is safer.”

Every nerve tickled, but he maintained a calm, indifferent poise and shifted through strategies. “Well, if you wish, we can walk. Sadly, the spot I had in mind for a picnic is a good distance away, and I thought perhaps a horse ride would be less physically demanding on me.” He shrugged and let his face look downcast. “However, if you think the ride too terrifying, I will attempt to walk the distance there and back.”

As he hoped, contrary emotions—dread and reason, apprehension and concern—warred for dominance and fluttered across her face. “I’ve reconsidered,” she reluctantly said.

Hurriedly, before she changed her mind again, Alec mounted his horse and handed the reins to Mary. “Now kick Bell’s sides,” he instructed quietly.

A vibrant blush colored her cheeks, and adorable freckles dotted her nose as she debated the instructions.
You are one lovesick puppy.
He sighed with awe.

Mary misunderstood the sound. Thinking him impatient with her delay, she sat erect and tapped the horse with her small foot. Bell twitched her ears and blew air.

“A wee bit more force, Mary.”

Mary’s irritated side-glance preceded a determined kick. Bell startled, lurching slightly before trotting forward a few feet. “Help me, sir. She’s runnin’ away with me,” she screamed, frantically clinging to the horse’s mane.

“Bell. Stop.”

Instantly, the horse bumped to a stop. Alec tried not to laugh as Mary’s unbalanced bottom bounced from side to side.

Wearing a ferocious scowl, Mary tried to straighten her fallen hair. “I’ve determined horse ridin’ is no’ for me.” She jerked her disheveled gown. “Remove me from this huge animal.”

Wiping his face with his hands, he hid his grin. The hilarious images of “huge animal” almost defeated the effort. “I’ve been remiss in explaining the function of the reins.” He lifted the leather straps and threaded them inside her hand. “Inside the horse’s mouth is a bit—a metal bar—that, when pulled, like this, indicates to the horse that you wish to stop. If the reins hang loose, the horse knows you wish her to move forward.” He wrapped his hand around Mary’s tight fist and demonstrated the motion for steering the horse left and right.

He hoped his smile looked more assuring than teasing. “But if you get nervous, Bell will follow voice commands. ‘Gee-up’ with a little kick tells her you want her to go. ‘Stop’ or ‘whoa,’ and she will halt.” Her face was now pale, and Alec knew that pride alone kept her seated on that saddle. “Go ahead,” he encouraged. “Kick her once while holding the reins a little tighter.”

Mary nibbled her lip, then, with trembling fingers, stroked the animal’s soft neck. “
Beidh curmach einin.
” Bell bounced her head, as if she understood Gaelic. Straightening her back and holding the reins too high, Mary gently kicked the horse. “Giddy-up.”