“I’ve been doing it since I was twelve. I’ve never had to fling myself sideways with you before. I’m surprised James didn’t warn you.”
“No, James never said a thing.”
“I wonder why the children kept mum.”
“There was no reason for anyone to warn me since I’ve never before beaten you in a race.”
She’d given him a fat smile and nodded, recognition that if she hadn’t done him dirty, he would have won. When she dismounted, praising Balthazar, Jason rode up to her, smiling, and let Dodger at him. He bit Balthazar’s flank, hard. Dodger hadn’t been as philosophical about the dirty trick.
He was smiling absently as he looked up at Corrie’s favorite statue, a kneeling man frozen for all eternity between a woman’s legs.
He turned quickly when he heard a gasp. “Hallie. You found your way in here.” She didn’t look at him, only stared around at the various statues.
Jason said, “There are fifteen statues. Each, I suppose you could say, with a different approach to the theme. I believe it was my great-grandfather who brought them back from Greece.”
She didn’t say a single word. Her eyes did not waver.
He pointed up at the statue. “Most women prefer this one, once they are married, but only if their husbands aren’t clods.”
She looked more closely and blanched. “Oh dear, what is he doing?” Her voice shook, but she didn’t look away from the statues. Jason said, his hand on her arm, “Come along.” When she still didn’t move, he grabbed her hand and pulled her away. He left the east gardens, still pulling her back toward the glass doors that opened into his father’s—no, James’s—estate room.
“No, no, please, Jason, please, let’s not go in yet.”
“You shouldn’t be looking at those statues. You’re too young and too ignorant.” He said nothing more, merely looked down at her, his arms crossed over his chest. He watched her tongue rub over her bottom lip.
“I’m not young nor am I particularly ignorant, but I will be honest here. It was difficult to break myself away.”
“You’d still be there, staring up, your mouth open, if I hadn’t dragged you away.”
“Probably true. Please, don’t go in yet. I wanted to talk to you, and it’s not about the statues.”
A elegant brow went up.
She was scuffing her slipper against a small rock.
Finally, after the silence dragged out, he sighed. “Spit it out, Miss Carrick.”
Her head came up and she said, all stiff and cold, “Please don’t call me Miss Carrick in that awful formal voice again. You’ve called me Hallie for a good week now.”
“Ah, the princess gives a direct order.”
She wrung her hands. “No, I didn’t mean that, truly, I only meant that when you speak in that tone it makes me feel lower than a slug. I hate it when you use my last name like you despise me so much you don’t even want to acknowledge Hallie.”
Jason leaned back against a sessile oak tree older than his grandmother, arms folded over his chest, and waited.
“I wanted to talk to you—All right, I really wanted to apologize. I was wrong to speak like that about Mrs. Dickers. It was such a shock to know that you and she—”
“You’re ruining it, Miss Carrick.”
Hallie sucked in her breath. “You can freeze someone with that voice.”
“Yes. I le
arned it from my father. James as well.”
“Don’t you see? She’s so much older than I am, and I simply couldn’t imagine you and she were, well—”
“This is getting better and better. How long do you plan to make excuses for yourself?”