The Midsummer Auction Part 9

"h.e.l.lo, Ben," Emma replied. "Miss Nicola is home from England for the holidays, and we've come over to see Sailor. She's dying to ride him."

"Welcome home, Miss Nicola," Ben said.

"Thank you, Ben," she said. "I'd like to ride Sailor this morning, if you would be kind enough to saddle him up."

"I'd advise against it, Miss Nicola. He hasn't been himself lately. Off his feed for one thing. He should be right as rain tomorrow, though, as long as you don't ride him too hard."

Nicola hesitated, disappointed. But one thing she knew about Ben. He was good with the horses, with all the animals, in fact, almost as though he had a sixth sense that they understood. If he said Sailor shouldn't be ridden today, she was willing to accept that. She swallowed her disappointment.

"Okay," she said. "Tomorrow then. Bye, boy," she whispered, patting the horse affectionately.

"That's too bad," Em said consolingly. "But never mind, Nicola. I'd just as soon have a nice stroll and chat. Thanks, Ben," she said to him as they moved off.

"Bye, Miss Emma. 'Til tomorrow then, Miss Nicola," he called after her.

Chapter Twenty-One.

The next day was the eve of Christmas Eve, and she helped Emma all day preparing boxes of food that the church people would collect and distribute to the poor. Their mother had instilled in them the philosophy that no matter how poor a person was, there was always someone poorer, so Emma had decided that regardless of their changed circ.u.mstances, there was no question of whether they could afford to do the boxes this year or not.

"You go ahead," she said, seeing that Nicola was itching to get away. "I can finish up. I can see you're dying to get out and it's getting late."

"I'll help some more when I get back," she promised. She dashed upstairs, showered, donned the same riding outfit she had worn yesterday and drove over to the stables. She didn't mind walking, but she couldn't wait to get on her horse again.

She parked the Jeep under a grove of coconut trees, looking up automatically to a.s.sess whether there were any coconuts ripe enough to drop and damage the Jeep. The vehicle parts were expensive, and the last thing they needed was another bill.

"There is nothing to be concerned about," someone said, and she turned around in surprise to see a young man walking toward her. "It is completely safe. The coconuts are green." His English was perfect, but his voice held a p.r.o.nounced Spanish accent. He approached her smiling, and she had an uncanny feeling that she knew him from somewhere. He was tall, maybe an inch or two shy of six feet, with a full head of dark curly hair cut short and fas.h.i.+onably moussed at the crown, dark eyes and gleaming white teeth in his healthily tanned face. He was wearing a white polo s.h.i.+rt, khakis, and boots. There was an expensive-looking watch on his left wrist and a heavy gold man's ID bracelet on his right. Everything about him screamed rich playboy.

"I hope I didn't startle you too much. I am Antonio Mendoza Torres," he said, holding out his hand.

"Oh," Nicola exclaimed. The new neighbor. She had the grace to blush, recalling her flippant comment about snagging him for Emma. If only!

"How nice to meet you. I'm Nicola Edgerton," she said warmly. She extended her hand, and he took it, conveying it to his lips and holding it there for a fraction of a second before releasing it. Her color deepened, and she suppressed the urge to rub the spot his lips had touched against the back of her jodhpurs. It tingled somehow and induced a slight feeling of discomfort.

"I know," he replied. "Ben told me you were coming over to ride your horse, so I thought I should take the opportunity to meet you."

"I'm glad you did," Nicola replied, remembering her manners. "I would have called on you in any event, but now that we have met I must tell you how grateful I am to you for allowing Sailor to be boarded in your stables."

"It is nothing," he replied graciously. "Let us not even speak of something so trivial. Tell me," he said, changing the subject, "may I ask how far you plan to ride today?"

"Not all that far," Nicola replied. "I might just follow the river bank for a while. All told, I'll probably be back in about an hour. Why?"

"I wondered if you would do me the honor of allowing me to accompany you. It is very seldom that I am fortunate enough to find such a charming and lovely riding companion."

Nicola hesitated for a moment. She had really been looking forward to her solitude, to just enjoying the scenery, the lush vegetation, being on her beloved Sailor again, without having to make conversation, especially not with a total stranger.

"How can I say no?" she said, smiling at him.

It was a glorious day for a ride. They took their time, giving the horses their head and chatting desultorily as they meandered off the beaten path, seeking protection from the blistering sun in the shade of the dense bamboo. Every now and then she would rein in Sailor, needing a moment to stand still and drink in the spectacular coastline some twenty miles away and the magnificent Blue Mountain peak to the east. A shadow crossed her face as she thought of her parents, and for a few seconds, the peak seemed to s.h.i.+mmer in a watery haze.

Antonio glanced at her and then reached across and gently pressed her hand as it lay still, holding the reins loosely. "Whenever you think of them, you will only see them as the vibrant and beautiful people they were, Nicola. They will never have to endure growing old," he said gently.

She turned to him, surprised that he had discerned her emotions so easily. She nodded. "That's a nice way to look at it, Antonio. Thank you," she said huskily. "Okay, boy," she said to Sailor, patting his neck.

Sensing they were homeward bound the horse's ears p.r.i.c.ked up, and he set off at a brisk pace. They got back to the stables just before dark and Ben was waiting to lock up for the night.

"If you wish, I can follow you home in my car, to be certain that you arrive safely," Antonio said courteously.

"Oh, thank you, but no," Nicola said. "That won't be necessary. It's barely a two-minute drive. I'll be perfectly all right."

"Very well. All the same, I will telephone in ten minutes to make sure that you are safe."

Nicola smiled. He really was quite charming. He would be perfect for Emma. "Merry Christmas, Antonio," she said, extending her hand.

"And to you, Nicola. Will you be spending it at home?"

"Oh yes. Just Emma and me. I'm really quite looking forward to it. What about you."

An indecipherable expression crossed his features for a brief instant. Then he smiled. "I, too, will spend it at home."

"Oh." It sounded lonely, but she didn't feel she knew him well enough to pry. "Well," she said after a moment's hesitation, "I guess I'd better be going." She got in the Jeep and gave him a friendly wave as she drove away.

As she pulled into the driveway, Emma came out onto the porch.

"There you are," she said, relief evident in her voice. "I was almost beginning to worry. Did you have a nice ride?"

"I had an excellent ride," she said. "And, I met our new neighbor. In fact, we rode together." She watched Emma's face closely, looking for some telltale sign of something that might indicate she had given Antonio more than a pa.s.sing thought, but Emma only seemed genuinely pleased.

"He seems very nice, as far as I can tell."

"You know, Em, I have an idea," she said. "I think he's going to be spending Christmas alone. He'll be calling any minute now to make sure I got home safely. Why don't we invite him to have Christmas dinner with us?"

"What a nice idea. I should have thought of it myself. It can't be much fun for him, alone in that big place all the time."

"Well, so are you," Nicola pointed out.

"Touche." Emma laughed. "But somehow, with all there is to do around here and getting on with my writing in my spare time, most of the time I'm just happy I don't have any other distractions."

"Well, while you're becoming a famous novelist, there's no harm in a little fun," Nicola said wisely. "You know what they say about all work..." She broke off as the telephone shrilled.

"That'll be him. You get it, Em. And ask him over for dinner tomorrow. Tell him it'll only be us three so we're not doing anything fancy. Go on," she urged.

She eavesdropped shamelessly, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, listening to Em rea.s.sure Antonio that yes, Nicola had arrived home without mishap. She held her breath when Emma tendered the invitation to Christmas dinner and was relieved when it became obvious that Antonio had accepted.

"Well, it looks as though there'll be three of us for Christmas dinner," Emma remarked as she hung up the phone.

"I'll help you," Nicola offered quickly.

"Oh pooh," Emma said. "It's just as easy to cook for two as for three, four or five. Just do what you always do," she said smiling. "Perch yourself on the counter and help yourself to everything while you engage me in conversation so I don't notice what you're up to."

Both girls laughed aloud.

"Was I so obvious?" Nicola said, still grinning.

"Not to Mum and Dad," Em said, smiling. She gave Nicola a hug, seeing her smile falter for a minute. "No sad thoughts, Nicki," she said softly. "Mum and Dad wouldn't have wanted it. Now go take your shower and get changed. Dinner's waiting, and after that, we'll put the tree up."

Chapter Twenty-Two.

They spent Christmas Eve quietly. There really wasn't that much to do. Their faithful servant Alberta had left the house spotlessly clean before departing to spend Christmas with her family. Alberta depended on that job to make ends meet so despite their own very precarious financial situation, Emma had decided to keep her on.

By the time Christmas Day rolled around, both of them were genuinely looking forward to Antonio's company. He arrived almost hidden behind a ma.s.sive bouquet of flowers and an enormous box of chocolates, apologizing profusely for being so unoriginal.

"Don't be silly," Emma said. "The flowers are beautiful and both of us love chocolate. I wish we had something for you," she ended, somewhat wistfully.

"But you have. You have given me the pleasure of your company and saved me from being completely alone on Christmas Day," he said with a charming smile.

After dinner, which was quite a success, the three of them pitched in to tidy up the kitchen and went to sit on the veranda, watching the mountains fade from dark green to indigo to black as night descended with its customary tropical abruptness. Antonio, sitting across from her, scrutinized Nicola's face covertly, noting the unmistakable sadness that seemed to linger in the depths of her eyes. His intuition told him she had a lover, and he wondered if that was what was making her sad. The man must be a complete idiot. She was so gorgeous.

"A penny for your thoughts, Nicola," he said.

"Oh, I wish they were worth even that," she replied. Something caught in her voice and made him look at her even more attentively.

"Don't, Nicola," Emma said. "Let's just enjoy Christmas Day."

She couldn't help it. She felt so responsible, and so helpless to prevent what might happen. In two days she would be visiting the loan officer at the finance company again, and unless she could pull some rabbit out of a hat, they were finished. This might be their last Christmas Day in this house, on this land, unless she slept with him. Just the thought of it made her shudder. Even if she had never met Anthony, that was never going to happen. As if she could even bear the touch of anyone after Anthony. There had to be another way to save her inheritance. She propped her elbow on the arm of the rocker and rested her forehead against the palm of her hand. Emma looked distressed.

"There is something wrong," Antonio blurted out. "Please tell me what it is."

Nicola shook her head and Emma remained silent.

"Nicola, Emma," said Antonio. "Forgive me for being so presumptuous, but I so desperately want to be your friend. If there is a problem nothing would make me happier than to try to help you to find a solution."

Nicola raised her head and looked at him, and he knew the suspicious brightness in her eyes wasn't moons.h.i.+ne.

"Thanks, Antonio," she said gently. "We appreciate that, we really do. But this is something we have to work out for ourselves."

He found her use of the word we significant. It signaled to him that whatever the problem was, it concerned both of them, not just Nicola. Ergo, not a lovers' quarrel. He felt relieved. It wasn't love. It couldn't be sickness. Both girls looked extraordinarily healthy. There was only one other problem that had the capacity to create so much worry, so much fear-money, the lack of it. Rumor had it that Edgertons would soon go under. Most of their workers were now his employees. It wasn't too hard to figure out.

"Nicola, Emma," he said again. "You will want to throw me out of your house for my presumptions about your affairs, but before you do, I want you to know that if it is a question of money, I would be very glad to help."

Both girls jumped as though they had been shot at, looking at him with mortified expressions.

"No, no," Emma said hastily. "We wouldn't think of it. It's very kind of you to offer, but no." But Nicola was now regarding him attentively.

"But why not?' he asked, sounding baffled. "It is the way of life. I am not speaking of a gift, or of charity. It can simply be a business matter between ourselves. A private note. It is no different from approaching the bank when you need money. Think of it in this way. One way or the other, I a.s.sume you will owe money to someone, somewhere. Why not to me?"

"I'm afraid we are talking about quite a lot of money, Antonio," Nicola said in a small voice. Her eyes went to Emma's troubled face and then returned to Antonio.

"Just tell me the amount and I will draw up the note and deliver it to you tomorrow," he replied.

"It's almost seven million Jamaica dollars," Nicola said.

"You will have the check and the note tomorrow. I will bring it to you myself," he said instantly. "The matter is closed."

Nicola went to bed that night feeling as though a giant weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Unfortunately, it didn't have the same effect on her heart, and in spite of her resolution to bury her feelings for Anthony in the deepest recesses of her soul, she lay awake, thinking of him, wondering what he was doing. Had he spent Christmas alone or with someone? Was he in bed right now, with that person? The thought knotted her stomach, and she curled over, hugging her pillow, feeling something leaking in her chest, as though her heart had just been nicked with a razor and the blood was dripping out of it, drop by tortured drop.

Chapter Twenty-Three.

Just around that time, but in a different time zone, Anthony was lying in bed in his Hamps.h.i.+re manor, staring at the ceiling. It was almost six in the morning on Boxing Day. Christmas Day had come and gone. He had spent it with the Branksomes, as he had done since both his parents had pa.s.sed on. Marcus Branksome was an old college chum from Oxford and the two of them had sown some very wild oats before Marco had met and fallen in love with Clara. Now he was a settled and very happily married man with two kids, and seeing him like that, Anthony had been intensely aware of how empty his own life had become. He hadn't much felt like socializing, but being alone in the house on Christmas Day, with nothing to do but think of Nicola, would have driven him mad, just as it was doing now.

On Christmas Eve he had received a preliminary report from the agency he had hired to check out Nicola Edgerton. He knew now that her parents had been killed in a plane crash in Jamaica earlier in year and that she was there now, having left London three days ago. But the most surprising piece of information was that her London address was one he knew very well indeed-Henrietta Colefax's. She lived with Henrietta Colefax! How had that come about? He couldn't ask Henrietta, because she would know he had been checking up on Nicola. The only person who could tell him that was Nicola herself, when or if she came back from Jamaica. But he had driven her away. There was no reason why she would want to see him even if she did come back. He had severed their connection, so he would have to be the one to reestablish it, even if it meant going to Jamaica to find her.

But first, he would wait for another report. He had instructed the agency to track her down, authorizing it to send agents to Jamaica to find out as much about her as possible. At least he knew where she was. But not knowing what she was doing there, or with whom, was torture.

Last night when he came back from the Branksomes he had drunk two double scotches to ensure he would be incapable of thinking too much and had fallen asleep heavily. But now he was wide awake. He breathed deeply, giving in to the thoughts of her that he had been holding at bay for what seemed like forever. He could taste her on his tongue, smell the intimate scent of her as clearly as if she were lying next to him. His c.o.c.k was suddenly rock hard, and he reached down to ma.s.sage the ache. The image of her face, contorted with pa.s.sion as she approached her o.r.g.a.s.m, and of him thrusting, hot and hard, until his seed spurted into her, blotted out everything else from his mind. He wanted her, needed her, needed to f.u.c.k her until she cried out his name. His ma.s.saging changed to quick, urgent strokes, and suddenly with a loud expletive, he got up and headed for the bathroom. He leaned over the tank against the wall, supporting himself with one hand, his legs becoming limp noodles as he induced a mind-numbing climax that made his hair stand on end.

He remained leaning against the wall, breathing heavily and feeling incredibly empty and dissatisfied. A hand job didn't do it. Nothing, save being deep inside her or warm in the delicious cave of her mouth, would ever do it for him again. He turned on the shower and stood under the hot punis.h.i.+ng spray, wondering how he was going to make it through the rest of the day, much less the next two weeks.

Chapter Twenty-Four.