New York_ The Novel - Edward Rutherfurd [211]
Nolan had made his move in June. At noon on a Sunday, he’d picked her up from the house in Gramercy Park. It was a warm summer day, not a cloud in the sky. He’d hired a nice little two-seated gig and, with a picnic basket and blanket behind, he drove her up Broadway and out onto the old Bloomingdale road. It wasn’t long before the city streets gave way to empty lots and countryside. They’d gone about three miles, and she’d supposed they might be going to some pleasant spot overlooking the Hudson, but instead he turned right and continued a little way until they came to a large tract of wild ground, with small hills and rocky outcrops.
Drawing up, and tethering the horse, he took the basket and blanket and led her down a path.
“Where in the world are you taking me?” she asked.
“A place I discovered a while ago,” he said. “You’ll see.” They passed a high outcrop of rock half concealed by trees and bushes. “Just a step,” he said as, taking her hand, he guided her between the trees. “There.”
She had to admit that it was a delightful spot. A little dell, where the sun fell gently onto an open bank of grasses which, most charmingly in that summer season, were sprinkled with wild strawberries.
“Perfect spot for a picnic,” he said.
He’d brought a bottle of wine, fresh salmon, jellied chicken, bread that smelled as if it had just come out of the oven, sweetmeats, fresh fruit. She’d never had a more delightful meal. And during the course of it, he talked easily of this and that, and even told some funny jokes which, she had noticed, was not a thing he often did.
So when he kissed her, she had been expecting it, and had no objection. And when, lying beside her on the grass, he began to kiss her more passionately, she returned his passion. And when his hands began to caress her she gave a little gasp. But when he started to go further, and rolled on top of her, she found she did not wish it, and she resisted him, and asked him to stop.
He did so, but it was clear that he did not believe her, and suddenly he was at it again.
“No, Paddy,” she said. “Please.” She sat up and looked at him reprovingly. “I am not your wife.”
He rolled on his back and looked up at the sky, and she wondered if he was going to ask her to marry him then. And indeed, she had the distinct impression that he was considering it. But instead, after a while, he sat up. He was looking a bit thoughtful.
He poured her a glass of wine, which she took, and he poured some for himself. Then he smiled.
“It’s a beautiful day, Mary,” he said. “Can’t think what came over me.”
He didn’t say much more, but after a while he began to collect the remains of the food and put them in the basket. Then with a sigh he remarked that he wished he didn’t have to do some work at the saloon. “But duty calls.”
So he led her back to the two-seater, and drove her home.
After he’d gone, she sat in her room for a couple of hours, taking stock of the situation. What did it mean? Was he not serious about her at all, and only intending to seduce her? He wouldn’t try to force himself on her, she was sure—he would know that Sean would put a knife in his back if ever he did that. And he surely wouldn’t have spent all this time courting her when he could have plenty of easy women as a mistress, if that’s what he wanted. No, from everything that had passed between them, she was sure he was thinking of her as a wife.
She wished she could talk it over with Gretchen, but Gretchen and her family had gone away that week to visit relations in New Jersey. Anyway, she told herself, she was perfectly capable of thinking it out for herself.
What was his game, then? Simple enough, she supposed: he wanted to sample the goods before he