“Just make yourself comfortable on the blanket,” Andrew said, “and I’ll brief my helper on his duties.”
Catherine lowered herself onto the blanket and laughed at Shadow’s tail-chasing antics. From the corner of her eye, she watched Andrew and Spencer speaking in muted tones, and the pleased flush that stole over Spencer’s cheeks. They returned several minutes later, and with a flourish, Andrew pulled the tarp from his stash of supplies.
Catherine craned her neck and stared at the five buckets of varying sizes he’d uncovered. “What’s in those?”
“Ice, salt, cream, sugar, and strawberries,” he said, pointing to each one in turn. He then indicated a cloth bag with a nod of his chin. “Bowls and spoons.”
“We’re going to make strawberry-flavored ice, Mum!” Spencer said.
“Really?” She scooped up Shadow then walked over to have a better look. “How are we going to make that?”
“Just watch,” Andrew said. “You’ve never eaten anything like this, I promise you.”
“I had a flavored ice in London last year,” Catherine said. “It was delightful.”
“This will be extraordinarily delightful,” Andrew promised with a smile.
Nearly an hour later, after much strenuous shaking by Andrew of an outer bucket filled with chips of ice and salt while Spencer vigorously stirred an inner bucket filled with cream, sugar, and strawberries, Andrew finally announced, “It’s ready.”
Spencer, his face red from his exertions, blew out a loud breath. “Thank goodness. My arms are about to drop off.”
“As are mine,” Andrew agreed. “But trust me, once you taste this, the pain will instantly fade.”
“I feel horribly guilty,” Catherine said. “While you two shook and stirred, I merely sat here and enjoyed the lovely weather.”
“You were watching Shadow,” Andrew reminded her, scooping heaping spoonfuls of pink stuff into porcelain bowls.
“Not a difficult task, as the imp has been sleeping for the past three-quarters of an hour.” She looked down at the bundle of black fur sprawled across her lap and tried, without any success whatsoever, to stem the affection flooding her. “I believe I bored Shadow to sleep.”
“Well, she who bores the dog to sleep serves the cause just as much as those who stir and shake,” Andrew said, handing her a bowl and spoon. “Taste.”
Catherine dipped her spoon into the creamy concoction, then lifted it to her lips. Her eyes widened with pure delight as the smooth, sweet, strawberry-flavored chill slid down her throat. “Oh, my.”
Andrew laughed. After scooping out a generous portion for Spencer, then himself, they all sat upon the blanket and indulged in their treat.
“You’re right, Mr. Stanton,” Spencer said, “this is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.”
“Made all your arm aches disappear, I’ll wager.”
“Every one,” Spencer agreed.
“Where did you learn to make this?” Catherine asked, savoring another delectable spoonful.
“In America. The family who owned the stables where I worked was fond of serving this to their guests.” A phantom of some emotion she could not read flashed in his eyes. “Whenever they did so, their daughter would pilfer an extra bowl for me. Eventually I asked their cook how it was made.”
A spurt of something that felt suspiciously like jealousy shot through her at the thought of Andrew sitting on a blanket with his employer’s daughter, eating a frozen delight that she’d brought him.
“The girl who brought you the ice-what was her name?” Spencer asked, voicing the question Catherine hadn’t had the courage to speak.
“Emily,”Andrew said, softly, looking down into his bowl.
“Was she nice?”
“Very nice.” He looked up and gave Spencer a slight smile that looked more sad than happy to Catherine. “In fact, you rather remind me of her, Spencer.”
“I remind you of a
Andrew chuckled at his horrified expression. “Not the fact that she was a girl, but because she… struggled to find where she fit in. She did not feel very comfortable around people. Indeed, except for me, she had very few friends.”
Spencer’s brow puckered as he pondered this. Then he asked, “Are you still her friend? Do you correspond with her?”
There was no mistaking the pain that filled his eyes. “No. She died.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“As am I.”
“When did she die?”
He swallowed, then said, “About eleven years ago. Just before I left America. I bet she would be pleased that we’re all enjoying this treat. And I especially wanted to make strawberry because I know it is a favorite of both of you. Who would like some more?”
“Me, please,” said Spencer, holding out his bowl.
The adroit subject change had not escaped Catherine, and she wondered if there was more behind it than simply not wanting to discuss a sad subject. Andrew’s pain when he’d discussed this Emily was palpable, filling her with sympathy for him. The conversation had also piqued her curiosity.
Amid many appreciative murmurs, they each enjoyed another bowl while laughing at Shadow-who’d awakened and showed a huge interest in the proceedings. “There’s just enough for one more serving,” Andrew said. “Since I know from experience that this is a favorite of stable masters, I wager Fritzborne would enjoy it.”
“I’ll bring it to him,” Spencer offered.
As Catherine watched her son walk toward the stables, his uneven gait forming the familiar lump of love in her throat, she was also acutely, painfully aware that she and Andrew were alone.
She turned to look at him and stilled at the compelling, serious look in his dark eyes.
“I missed you,” he said softly.
Three simple words. How did he cleave through all her hard-fought-for resolutions with three simple words? Her insides seemed to melt, and she was grateful she was sitting, for her knees felt oddly weak. As much as she hated to admit it, as much as she desperately wished she hadn’t, she’d missed him, too. More man she’d believed it possible to miss a person. Much more than she’d wanted to. And certainly much more than was wise. And now, with those three simple words, she feared that all her attempts to keep her heart unencumbered were doomed to failure.
He reached out and brushed his fingers slowly back and forth over the back of her hand, sending delicious tingles up her arm. “You said earlier that I lacked self-control, and I want you to know just how very wrong you are. I cannot even begin to describe the amount of control I am exercising right now not to kiss you. Touch you.”
“You are touching me,” she said, her voice breathless.
“Not in the way I want to, I assure you.”
Heat pooled low in her belly, and sensual images of all the seductive ways he’d touched her flashed through her mind.
“Do you still want to meet at the springs tonight, Catherine?”
“Yes.”
“Do you truly need to ask?”
“No.”She could easily see the desire in his eyes. And if she didn’t change the subject, she stood in danger of saying or doing something she might well regret.
“This”-she spread her hand to indicate their picnic area and the collection of buckets-“was a delightful surprise. And very thoughtful of you.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“I confess I have a surprise for you as well.”
“Really? What is it?”
She shot him an aggrieved look. “What are you always saying about a dictionary?”
He laughed. “
