The Ring on Her Finger (22 page)

“Actually—” Rosemary tried again.

Again, Nathaniel cut her off. “What’s this I hear about a new yearling?”

He and the Garamonds fell into avid conversation. Horses were clearly a subject they all knew and loved, and once the topic was out there, everything else in the world disappeared. For a good fifteen minutes, the three of them talked about horses in general, and this new yearling in particular, until Livvy suddenly remembered she’d fixed a snack for all of them, since Nathaniel and Rosemary were bound to be hungry, and she knew how much he liked her corn fritters, and the boy just didn’t eat right, which she could see for herself since he was all skin and bones.

This time it was Rosemary who smiled in response to Nathaniel’s blush. Of course, he had nothing to be ashamed of. He wasn’t anything resembling skin and bones. The man had quite a bit of meat to him, and every inch of it was nicely arranged. Oh, yes. Quite nicely arranged, indeed.

“Not too much, Livvy,” Nathaniel said. “Just a snack. Rosemary and I have something special planned for lunch later.”

Did they? This was the first Rosemary had heard about that. Naturally, she expected to eat at some point during the day, but he hadn’t specifically mentioned a “plan” until now. Or anything “special,” either.

“Just a snack,” Livvy promised. But she winked at Rosemary when she added, “And then the two of you can have your special thing later.”

Nathaniel was immediately unimpressed with the horse. Not that he’d had high hopes for it in the first place since the twenty thousand her owner was asking was hardly the price tag of a champion. But he’d thought he might spot some potential in the animal that the owner missed. After all, Real Quiet, who’d come this close to winning the Triple Crown in ’98, had gone for seventeen thousand dollars at auction. This horse...

He considered the yearling from the other side of the paddock fence. She had beautiful chestnut coloring, to be sure, and her gait was steady and strong. She was on the small side, though, and her legs were a little short. Nothing really jumped out at him from where he stood.

“Her name’s Destinations South,” Silas said. “Sire was Southernmost Comfort, and dam was Blue Destiny. She’ll be fine for breedin’. You might even get a race or two out of her if you can find a good trainer.”

Nathaniel pushed the gate open and entered the paddock beside Silas, who whistled to the filly. She turned immediately at the summons and trotted to Silas, who caught her halter in one hand. Nathaniel made a slow circle around the animal, inspecting her form and figure, height and weight. But even up close, he couldn’t find much about her that was compelling. All in all, she was no more special than dozens of others he’d declined to purchase in the past.

“Oh, my, she’s magnificent,” Rosemary said from behind him, her voice hushed and laced with reverence. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a horse so beautiful.”

When Nathaniel turned to look at her, her gaze was fastened on the filly, and her expression was filled with delight.

“That’s right, you used to work with horses,” he said, remembering their conversation of Friday night. “I guess you know a lot about them, too, don’t you?”

“Enough, I suppose. Though, mind you, it’s been a long time since I was around one for any length of time. I don’t even see much of Mr. and Mrs. Cove’s horses, since Abby’s afraid of them. This one, though...” Her voice trailed off into something reminiscent of a sigh. “I’ve never seen an animal like her before. She’s so beautiful. And so gentle.”

“How can you tell she’s gentle just by looking at her?”

Rosemary looked at him, her expression puzzled now. “Well, can’t you?”

“No,” he said honestly. “I’d have to ride her. Or at least watch someone else ride her. You can’t just tell an animal has a gentle nature by looking at it.”

She seemed to mull that over for a moment. Finally, “Oh,” she said, offering him not a clue as to what she might be thinking.

“Wanna take her for a spin?” Silas asked. “Got the keys right here,” he added with a wink, giving the halter a gentle tug.

Rosemary’s eyes widened in surprise. For a moment, they shone with excitement like two bright emeralds. Then, “Oh, no, I couldn’t,” she said. But there was obvious reluctance in her voice.

“Sure you could,” Nathaniel told her.

“No, I can’t. I’m not dressed for riding.”

Silas uttered a sound of derision. “Don’t let that stop ya. Livvy’s ’bout your size. You can borrow somethin’ of hers.”

“No, really,” Rosemary said, shaking her head more vehemently. Her gaze ricocheted from Nathaniel to Silas and back again. “I couldn’t. Thank you. But no.”

“You like her, though, yes?” Nathaniel asked.

The breeze kicked up, tugging an errant wisp of hair from her braid to make it dance about her face. Without thinking, he reached toward it, though whether to restore it to its rightful place or hasten the undoing of that braid completely, he wasn’t sure. Before he could make contact, though, Rosemary snagged it herself and tucked it capably back where it belonged. As she did, she laughed lightly, a sound that was so intimate and so incredibly sweet, Nathaniel felt something inside him go a little weak.

Never in his life had he felt weakened by a woman. Never. But Rosemary, by her simple presence, made him feel as nervous and unsteady as an adolescent. Never had he been swayed by a woman’s laughter, either. Or her smile. On the contrary, usually, when a woman smiled at him, Nathaniel went immediately on guard. He was always able to see something else behind the smile, and nearly always, it was a something that stemmed from self-interest or greed. Rosemary didn’t smile that way, though. Her smiles were generous and uninhibited, free of deception. Hers was a smile of kindness, of gentleness, of happiness. When Rosemary smiled, she—

He halted himself when he realized how sappy his thoughts were becoming. He was getting maudlin in his old age. The last thing he needed to be doing was getting weak-kneed over a woman and singing psalms about her smiles.

“Oh, yes,” she said softly, jerking him back into the present. Back into her smile. Back into his sappy simpering. “I like her very much indeed.”

His gaze wandered from Rosemary to the horse, then back again. “You think I should take her then?”

She deliberated, considering the filly once more. “If you want her.”

“I do want her,” he said without hesitation.

When she looked at him this time, he told himself he couldn’t possibly be seeing in her expression what he thought he saw in her expression. It was too soon. Too easy. Rosemary Shaugnessy shouldn’t be easy. Couldn’t be easy. Because if she was...

“Then you should take her,” she said softly.

Nathaniel grinned, but something inside him went cold. Jackpot, he thought grimly. Rosemary really was his for the taking. He was as confident of that as he was his own name. So why didn’t he feel triumphant? Why didn’t he feel smug? Why did he feel...nothing?

He looked at the horse, then back at Rosemary. “Maybe I will take her then.” He nodded once, feeling more than a little sick to his stomach. “Maybe I will.”

Lunch was indeed something special, Rosemary discovered later that afternoon. And it had indeed been planned, right down to the red-checkered tablecloth that Nathaniel spread beneath a sweeping maple some hours after concluding business with the Garamonds. She never would have guessed he could come up with such a whimsical, romantic idea as a picnic, but here they were, a mile from the Garamonds’ house—though still on Garamond property, he’d told her—and he was anchoring the tablecloth in place with a willow basket. He had driven his car up a dirt road, then off the road into a flat field, parking it on the other side of the tree. Rosemary thought they must look like a magazine ad for Jaguar, so unlikely and idyllic must the scene appear.

“Have a seat,” he invited, kneeling on the tablecloth.

Rosemary chuckled. “I can’t believe you did this.”

She followed his lead, curling her legs around her as she sat. Maybe a dress hadn’t been such a good idea after all. She wished she had been more prepared. And not just for the picnic, either.

“‘A loaf of bread, a jug of wine,’” Nathaniel recited as he removed one of each from the basket. “‘And thou,’” he finished with a smile.

“Oh, my, he even spouts poetry. I think I shall be quite overcome and swoon.”

He laughed. “No swooning until after lunch. I worked hard on this.”

“You mean some restaurant worked hard on this.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he conceded. “Whatever. I’m the one who did the selecting.”

And he’d selected enough to feed an army, pulling what looked like a dozen containers from the basket, along with chill packs he’d added to keep them cool.

“What have you got there?” she asked.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like. So I got a little bit of everything.”

His expression was that of an eager little boy, anxious to please. His green eyes rivaled the color of the rolling hills behind him, and a thick lock of black hair had fallen over his forehead. He was nothing like she’d thought him. He was so thoughtful. So sweet. So everything. He could have any woman he wanted. Why was he with her?

She decided not to think about that. Instead, she said, “You look as if you bought out the entire restaurant. You’re a man of many surprises, Mr. Finn.”

He smiled again, and a concussion of delight exploded in her belly, spreading heat throughout her body. “Am I? In what way?”

Oh, where to begin, Rosemary thought. “You’re just not the kind of man I thought you were, that’s all.”

He seemed to give great thought to that, then asked, “What kind of man did you think I was?”

She didn’t see any reason not to be honest. “I thought you were shallow and self-centered. I thought you were the kind of man who cared only for himself and who was driven by nothing but personal gain.”

A slash of something turbulent darkened his eyes for the briefest moment. “And you don’t think I’m like that anymore?”

She shook her head. “No. I can see that you’re a good man.”

“But I’m the Bad Boy of the Thoroughbred Racing Set,” he reminded her. “Everybody says so.”

She shook her head again. “No, you’re a good man. I know it.”

“How can you know?”

He seemed intent on contradicting her. Or perhaps he was just fishing for compliments. Rosemary shrugged. “Just my feminine intuition, I suppose. That and the way you act. You’re polite and attentive. You’ve been kind to me. And you were grand with Mr. and Mrs. Garamond.”

He dropped his gaze at that, ostensibly to work the corkscrew out of the wine bottle, but somehow, Rosemary got the impression it was because he didn’t want her to see his face when he talked about the Garamonds. Either that, or he was uncomfortable with the other things she’d said about him.

“Silas and Livvy are practically my grandparents,” he told her, dismissing everything else she’d said. “I’ve known them all my life. If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t have anyone who—” He halted abruptly, leaving the statement unfinished.

“Who what?” she asked.

“Nothing. Never mind.”

“No, what?” Rosemary insisted. “If it weren’t for them, you wouldn’t have anyone who what?”

He sighed heavily, and she could tell he was reluctant with his reply. “If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t have anyone who... Well, I wouldn’t have anything remotely resembling a family, that’s all.”

“Your parents are gone?”

“In a manner of speaking. They split up when I was a kid. My mom went to California to live, and my dad stayed here. Well, his house...our house,” he corrected himself, “was here. My father was usually in Europe. My grandfather lived with us, and he pretty much raised me. He passed away when I was seventeen.”

“Has your family always been in the horse business?”

He nodded. “My father was a breeder, and my grandfather was a trainer. I learned things from both of them that helped enormously when I opened my own stables.”

“Is your father still in Europe then?”

This time, Nathaniel shook his head. “No, he died four years ago. My mother is still alive, still living in California, but I haven’t seen or heard from her for years.”

“I never knew my parents,” Rosemary said. “They both died when I was a baby. Lost to the Troubles, both of them.”

Nathaniel snapped his head up at that, and only then did Rosemary realize how matter-of-factly she had spoken about the tragedies of her childhood. But tragedy was a way of life for every family where she came from. People couldn’t help but be matter-of-fact about it.

“The Troubles,” he repeated. “That’s another word for the animosity between the IRA and England, isn’t it?”

“Animosity,” she echoed mildly. “Trust me, Nathaniel, it went well beyond animosity when I was a child. But yes, I lost both parents as a result of the violence and the hatred and...” She let her voice trail off. Why spoil a beautiful day with talk of such an ugly topic?

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“It was a long time ago. I don’t remember anything about my parents. And I had my aunt Brigid to care for me.”

For all the good that had done. Then again, where they came from, staying out of trouble was next to impossible. Still, she wished her aunt had shown a little more affection. Or any at all. Then again, in Derry, whenever you loved something, it usually got taken away. Violently, more often than not. Maybe her aunt had only been anticipating another tragedy, and that was why she’d kept her distance.

“Just like I had my grandfather,” Nathaniel said softly, his voice softer now. “And after he died, the Garamonds.”

“Yet you don’t see them very often,” Rosemary noted. “That’s what Livvy said.”

He turned his attention back to opening the wine. “A lot of people don’t see much of their families.”

“That’s because a lot of people don’t get on with their families. You seem to get on very well with the Garamonds.”

“That’s because I care a lot about them.”

“Then why don’t you see more of them?”

“I don’t know,” he said impatiently. Though she suspected his impatience was with himself and not her. He tugged the cork free of the wine, then looked at Rosemary again. “No time, I guess. Demanding job. Lots of responsibilities. All that. I really don’t know.”