Love, Come to Me(24)

“Never mind. Just tell Daniel to bring you over here.”

“I dislike being ordered around by a female,” Daniel muttered darkly, causing Lucy to chuckle.

“Poor darling. Please try to be nice for my sake. She’s my very best friend, and I promised her we would spread our blanket next to hers.”

“As we do every year . . . so that she can dip into our picnic basket. Everyone knows she can’t cook. Who is she with this time? That no-account farmer? Or Fred Rothford, or that mumbling—”

“I don’t know. But I’m sure that whoever it is . . .” Lucy’s voice disappeared in the back of her throat as she saw a tall figure leaning negligently against a tree trunk while Sally hovered nearby. His broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped form was clad in a white shirt with a soft collar and roomy sleeves, buff-colored trousers, and well-worn boots.

“For God’s sake,” Daniel hissed, “that’s who Sally’s with? Don’t tell me that I’m going to have to eat lunch with that Confederate!”

“Daniel,” Lucy said, wondering somewhere in the back of her mind why it took so much effort to produce a mere whisper, “please don’t embarrass me. Don’t embarrass both of us. You can get through forty-five minutes of being civil to him. You don’t have to be friendly—just don’t start a fight.”

“If he starts one, I’m going to give him what he’s looking for!”

“He doesn’t want a fight. I’m sure of it. He’s here to enjoy the picnic, just like you are.”

“Don’t compare the two of us,” Daniel said harshly. “I’m nothing like him.”

“I agree,” Lucy said feelingly, closing her parasol and breathing a quick prayer for mercy. This was the kind of situation that nightmares were made of.

After Daniel landed the boat and helped her ashore, she lifted the hem of her skirt and went up the slight incline alone. Daniel rummaged in the rowboat for the picnic basket, taking his time and dawdling with the reluctance of a man who faces an unpleasant task. Sally and Heath met her at the edge of the clearing where the picnic blankets were being spread.

“You two have met before, so I guess there’s no need for introductions.” Sally’s voice seemed like nothing more than a superfluous drone in the background as Lucy stared into spellbinding blue eyes and felt her pulse accelerate with alarming speed.

“Miss Caldwell,” Heath said politely, “what an unexpected pleasure.”

“Is it really an ‘unexpected pleasure’?” Lucy asked as Sally went to help Daniel with the boat.

“No and yes.”

“What does that mean?”

“No . . . it’s not unexpected. And yes, it is a pleasure.”

“You planned this. You’re with Sally because you knew she and I are friends and that the two of you would probably be sitting near Daniel and me at the picnic.”

“Such modesty. You think that I would be so devious, to go to such lengths for the sake of watching you eat a sandwich?”

Lucy blushed, embarrassed by his light mockery and aware of how conceited she had sounded. “No, I don’t really think that.”

“Well, I just might have.”

She looked up at him and saw that his smile was full of friendly teasing. Sternly she held an answering smile at bay. She was troubled by the feeling that had suddenly come over her, this combination of gladness and nervousness and excitement. As he spoke his voice touched something inside her.

“Mr. Rayne, I hope our New England humidity doesn’t spoil the picnic for you,” she managed to say.

“Not at all, Miss Caldwell. I’m used to warmer climates.”

“Convenient on a day like today.” She was aware that his eyes had made a quick journey from her head to her toes and back again. She was glad that she had chosen one of her prettiest dresses to wear today, made of glowing peach muslin with a sash that tied at the side. It was fastened up the front with buttons made of coral shells, with one pearl peeking out of each shell. As Daniel approached from behind her, Lucy fingered one of the little buttons agitatedly and sent Heath a guarded look.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Rayne,” Daniel said grimly, his mustache twitching with the irritation he felt at having to be cordial to a man he disliked so intensely.

“Afternoon, Mr. Collier.”

Lucy was thankful to see that for once there was no taunting smile on Heath’s face. She looked from one man to the other, surprised at how stiff and staid Daniel looked in his rigid collar, plaid vest and trousers—dear Daniel, so dependable and proper, so entirely different from the stylish Southerner. Daniel would always take care of her, and while he may not have been as dashing and exciting as some men, he was solid gold. She suspected that Heath, on the other hand, was about as stable as quicksilver.

Lucy and Sally managed to fill the hour that it took to eat with vivacious chatter, regaling Heath with stories about what it had been like for all of them to grow up together in Concord. Even Daniel had to smile at some of the tales, especially the ones about the amateur theatricals they and their friends had performed.

“The best one we ever did,” Sally said, holding back a fit of giggles, “was The Dog Will Have Its Day, a comedy of errors from beginning to end. Written in honor of a stray mutt that Lucy had taken in.”