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Amelia’s chocolate-brown eyes went from her cousin’s face to Quinn’s and for the first time since he’d met her, they contained no emotion whatsoever. “I’m not sure what I’ll be doing by the end of the month.” Her voice was smoothly pleasant and revealed as little as her eyes did.
Her “royal face,” he realized.
She’d talked about having one. Having had to develop as a little girl the ability to give nothing away by expression, deed or word.
He’d just never seen it in person before. And not directed at him.
Piper was wriggling on her hip and Amelia leaned over to set the little girl on her feet. She kept hold of Piper’s tiny hands as the girl made a beeline toddle for the wig sitting on the picnic bench next to them.
“Keekee,” she chortled, and reached for the wig.
Amelia laughed lightly and scooped up the wig before Piper could reach it and brushed the short thick strands against the baby’s face. “That’s not a kitty, darling. It’s a wig.”
She’d crouched next to Piper and while the child chortled over the hairy thing, she glanced up at Quinn. “There was no need to return the wig to me, Quinn,” she told him. “You could have tossed it in the trash bin.”
He really wished he would have.
Liam tilted his beer to his lips but not quickly enough to hide his faint grin. “Thought the rat belonged to your sis’s kids.”
“Here’s the tray,” Stacey announced, striding up with a metal cookie sheet in her hand that she set on the side of the grill.
She was also carrying a big bowl of coleslaw under her other arm, and, glad of an escape route, Quinn slid his hand beneath it. “I’ll put it on the table before you drop it.” He turned away from the lot of them and carried it over to a folding table that had obviously been set out to hold the food.
* * *
Trying not to watch Quinn too openly, Amelia continued entertaining the sweet baby with the wig while everyone else seemed to suddenly spring into action organizing the food onto plates and the people onto picnic benches.
Though she tried to avoid it, she somehow found herself sitting directly across from Quinn. He was hemmed in on one side by Delaney, Jeanne Marie and Deke’s youngest daughter, and Liam on the other. Amelia was caught between Jeanne Marie and Deke.
If she didn’t know better, she almost would have suspected her aunt and uncle of planning it.
Judging by the way Quinn noticeably ignored her, he was no more comfortable with the seating plan than she was. Fortunately, his friendship with Liam was evident as the two men dickered over the issue of Rocky’s studding abilities and whether or not the summer season would be wetter or drier than usual.
“Have some more corn bread,” Jeanne Marie said, nudging a basket of the fragrant squares into her hands.
Amelia obediently put another piece on her plate, and managed a light laugh when Deke tried to talk her into another steak, though she’d only eaten a fraction of the one on her plate. “If I ate all this, I’d pop,” she protested.
“So, Amelia,” Delaney drew her attention. “What are you doing in Horseback Hollow, anyway?” Her eyes were bright with curiosity as she grinned. “Are you planning some secret meeting with your wedding gown designer? Texas has our very own Charlene Dalton. She’s based in Red Rock and I hear she did Emily Fortune’s gown.”
“Delaney,” Jeanne Marie tsked, handing the corn bread across to her daughter. “You’re sounding like one of those nosy reporters.”
Delaney made a protesting sound. “That’s not fair. None of us expected to find ourselves family with The Fortunes. If you can’t share some secrets among your own family, who can you share ’em with? It’s not like I’ll go tattling to the newspapers. And besides. I didn’t get to see Emily’s gown outside of pictures, ’cause she got married before we even knew we all were cousins!”
“It’s all right,” Amelia said quickly. Not only could she sense her aunt’s sudden discomfort, but she was painfully aware of Quinn across from her. “I’m not...not planning any designer sessions.” She was loath to discuss her personal business in front of everyone, even if they were family. That just wasn’t the way she’d been raised. Even among her four brothers and sister, she didn’t get into whys and wherefores and the most personal of emotions. She hadn’t even divulged all the facts to her own mother about her “engagement,” though she knew Josephine had her suspicions.
She tried not looking at Quinn, but couldn’t help herself. “I’m not planning anything.” It wasn’t exactly a public admission, but since she’d discovered she was pregnant with his child, it was entirely truthful.
“’Scuse me.” He suddenly rose and extricated himself from the picnic bench and the human bookends holding him there.
Amelia’s fingernails dug into her palms as she watched him carry his plate over to the table of food and make a point of studying the display.
“Getting a microphone stuck in your face or a camera flash blinding you every time you go out in public would be a pain in the butt,” Deke said, as if nothing had happened. Then he looked around at the silence his unexpected input drew. His eyebrows rose. “Well. Would be,” he drawled in conclusion.
And that seemed to be that.
Nobody else broached the subject about Amelia’s unplanned appearance. Nor did the topic of the wedding come up again.
And Quinn never returned to their picnic table.
He stuck around long enough to have a piece of the three-layer chocolate cake when Jeanne Marie presented it, along with a peach pie that was so picturesque it might have come out of the kitchens at the Chesterfield estate. But whenever Amelia entered his vicinity, he exited hers.
It was so plainly obvious that he was avoiding her that she felt herself receiving looks of sympathy from Stacey, Delaney and Liam’s fiancée, Julia, who’d arrived in time for dessert.
She didn’t want sympathy.
She wanted Quinn’s love.
In the absence of that, at least his understanding.
But clearly he wasn’t going to offer that, either.
She saw him shake Deke’s hand, drop a kiss on her aunt’s cheek and exchange easily a half-dozen goodbyes with some of the others, without a single glance her way. And then he was walking away, heading out of sight around the corner of her aunt’s house.
She swallowed and sucked all of her feelings inward until she felt reasonably confident that her expression was calm. She listened in on Toby and Angie’s conversation as they talked about the difficulties they kept encountering trying to adopt the three Hemings children Toby had been fostering ever since she’d first met him, and knew she made the appropriate nods and sounds when she should have. But a portion of her mind was wondering if she could get back home again without drawing undue media attention.
Which was rather laughable to worry about now.
The attention she’d draw once word of her pregnancy got out would thoroughly eclipse what she’d already garnered.
And poor James. Instead of dealing with the embarrassment of a broken engagement, he would have to endure speculation over being the baby’s father. It wouldn’t matter that he wasn’t. It wouldn’t matter what statements were issued or what proof was given.
Forever on, people would whisper. Every time either one of them did something to draw the attention of the media, the scandal would be dug up all over again, regurgitated on the internet or on gossip networks.
They’d all pay the price and none more dearly than her and Quinn’s innocent baby.
Her head swam dizzily and she excused herself, walking blindly. She instinctively followed the path that Quinn had taken, heading around the side of the house and away from all of the noisy gaiety.
Going home was as impossible as staying in Horseback Hollow would be.
The thought came over her in a wave and her knees went weak. She stopped, bracing herself with one hand against the side of the house.
“Are you going to pass out again?”
She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Quinn’s voice. He was standing a few feet away, his hazel eyes alert, as though he was ready to leap forward if he had to.
At least he didn’t hate her badly enough to allow her to collapse flat on her face.
She let out a choking laugh at the thought, which only had him closing the distance between them, his expression even warier as he clasped her bare arms.
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