Stone Dreaming Woman by Lael R Neill Read Free Book Online Page B

my guest from time to time, and I know I do not need to remind you that this is my home and you owe it to me to be polite to any guest I choose to entertain. And rest assured I just had a similar conversation with him.”
    “What brought this on? Did he say something?”
    “No, only that he was puzzled as to why offering to drive your team offended you. He’s prepared to apologize.”
    “No. I want no apology. We…had words. It’s true. He did offer to drive for me, and I did decline, somewhat…decisively. I’d prefer that he say as little to me as possible. But your point is well taken, Uncle Richard. This is your home, and out of respect I do owe you the duty to be civil to your guests.”
    “Arrogance always invites retaliation, you know,” Richard said softly.
    “Do you think I was…”
    “I do. I think you still are. Look how you’re dressed. You’re flaunting wealth to the point of snobbery. You’re obviously out to make him feel like an impoverished backwoods hick. You’re angry with your father, with the medical profession, with men in general, and you want to take it out on Shane. I’m here to tell you he doesn’t deserve it.” She bit her lip. Her uncle was right on the money.
    “I’m sorry, Uncle Richard.” She felt like a chastened ten-year-old.
    “And I am only going to say this once. You’re wrong about Shane. He’s a gracious gentleman, as educated as you are. He’s had some trouble lately, and we need to give him the benefit of the doubt. Well, come down soon. Dinner is ready.” He rose and exited the room, leaving it up to her whether she would comply with his request.
    Within a few minutes she glided down the stairs. She had changed into a more simple forest green wool skirt and a plain cream pongee self-tied blouse adorned only with her gold pendant watch, and had gathered her damp hair into an elaborate chignon at the back of her head. She kept her eyes demurely down and pointedly ignored Shane; nevertheless, he looked awestruck as he rose from his chair. He made as if to set his empty tea mug on the piecrust table next to the wing chair, but missed and dropped it on his toe. Momentarily ignored, it rolled off onto the carpet. She could not restrain a giggle as he bent to retrieve it.
    “Ready for supper?” Richard asked, standing back to let her precede him into the assembly room. She took the Blue Willow mug from Shane’s hand as she passed him.
    “Here. Let me wash that for you,” she said unctuously, her dark eyes flashing. Shane’s cheeks flushed.
    “ Merci beaucoup , Mam’selle ,” he said stiffly, his Johnny-come-lately English having deserted him in his hour of need.
    “ De rien , Sergeant,” she responded, her cultured Parisian French obvious against his rough Québécois. Richard cut his eyes at Shane, too, and he reddened even more. Pointedly she washed the cup and dried it, then leaned over to place it above his plate.
    Richard said grace, seated Jenny, and Mavis served their food. Jenny sat primly across from Richard, as remote as the Snow Queen, ignoring Shane and paying attention to her meal.
    “So, Richard, about the Balkan situation? Do you really think it means war? And if so, how soon?” Shane asked. It might have been inappropriate table conversation in some polite homes, but at table in the Weston household any topic was fair game, including very frank medical discussions. It did set them off and lasted nicely until their meal was finished, although Jenny spoke only when she was directly addressed, and for his part, Shane ignored her.
    “Shane, you’re staying the night?” Mavis asked.
    “I have to. I can’t ride Midnight just yet.”
    “Well, the bunks are made up fresh. I’ll get you an extra blanket, too. It’s going to turn cold tonight.”
    “Thank you.”
    “If I may be excused, the night’s young, and I can get in a good hour or two of work before bedtime,” Richard said.
    “Of course. And I can always stand study time.”