Immediately, his mind filled with all the horrors of the country: snakes, rabid skunks, deer that could kick a person to death. Were there wolves in these mountains? What about wild cats that hid high up in trees and jumped on people? What . . . about . . . bears?
If the jacket she was wearing hadn’t been bright pink, he never would have seen her. She was entangled in the biggest, ugliest tree he’d ever seen, and all he could spy were her denim-clad legs and part of one pink sleeve. Oh, God, he thought, she’s hanged herself. In despair over James and this hideous place, she’d somehow managed to commit suicide.
Heart pounding, he ran toward the tree, ducked under two low limbs, then saw her. She was alive and looking upward raptly as though she were seeing some heavenly vision. It’s worse than suicide, she’s lost her mind, he thought.
“Bailey?” he said softly, but when she didn’t respond, he said, “Lillian?” She just kept looking upward. Slowly, carefully, he stepped toward her, but he also inspected the ground. Weren’t people supposed to stand still if they saw rattlesnakes? Was a poisonous snake the reason she wasn’t moving?
“Bailey?” he said softly when he got closer to her. “We can go now. You don’t have to stay here. If you want a little house somewhere, I’ll buy it for you. I’ll—”
“Do you know what this is?” she whispered.
He looked up, but all he saw was an old tree that badly needed pruning—or better yet, removal. “I know,” he said, “it’s a horrible old thing. But you don’t have to look at it.” He put his hand on her arm to pull her away.
“It’s a mulberry tree,” she said softly, her voice sounding almost reverent. “And it’s very old. It’s a black mulberry tree.”
“Nice,” Phillip said, then pulled harder on her arm.
Bailey smiled. “The Chinese duped James the First.”
At first he thought she meant James Manville, but then he realized she meant the English king, Elizabeth the First’s incompetent successor. What did an English king have to do with a derelict farm in Virginia?
She spoke again. “James decided to grow mulberry trees in England so he could raise silkworms and make silk an industry in England. The silkworms feed on mulberry leaves, you know. So James imported thousands and thousands of mulberry trees from China. But—” She broke off and smiled as she touched a leaf of the big tree. “The Chinese tricked him. They sent the English king trees that bear black mulberry fruit instead of white. Black mulberries are great for eating, but silkworms won’t touch them.”
Phillip looked at his watch. It was two P.M. Three hours back to the airport, and his flight was at six. Of course he’d have to find a seat for Bailey on the same flight. “Look, why don’t you tell me more about mulberry trees and the kings of England on the way back to the airport? You can—”
“I’m not leaving,” she said.
It was Phillip’s turn to want to burst into tears. Why did all women have to be contrary? “Bailey,” he said firmly, “you haven’t seen the inside of that house! It’s falling down. The door collapsed when I opened it. How can you possibly spend the night here? The place is filthy! It’s—”
“What’s that?” she asked.
At the sound of a large truck on the rarely used gravel road in front of the house, Phillip started chanting, “No, no, no, no,” even as Bailey leaped over two tree limbs and started running down the overgrown path.
The furniture had arrived.
Books by Jude Deveraux
Highland Velvet
Velvet Song
Velvet Angel
Sweetbriar
Counterfeit Lady
Lost Lady
River Lady
Twin of Fire
Twin of Ice
The Temptress
The Raider
The Princess
The Awakening
The Maiden
The Taming
The Conquest
A Knight in Shining Armor
Wishes
The Duchess
Eternity
Sweet Liar
The Invitation
Remembrance
The Heiress
Legend
An Angel for Emily
The Blessing
High Tide
Temptation
The Summerhouse
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
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Copyright © 2001 by Deveraux, Inc.
Originally published in hardcover in 2001 by Pocket Books
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
ISBN: 0-671-01419-6
ISBN 13: 978-0-7434-5916-7 (eBook)
First Pocket Books paperback printing May 2002
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Cover design by Lisa Litwack
Photo credits: © Joanne Dugan/Graphistock, © Hironori Okamoto/Photonica