by Rue Allyn
“You’re a little flushed but your fever’s gone now,” she said quietly as she adjusted his pillows. Her movements were quick and efficient — motherly even — but that wasn’t what he wanted. He caught hold of both her arms, and held her wrists tight. He needed to hear her say it out loud, or force himself to hear the truth.
You said you were in love with me. Did you mean it?
But something stopped him. It was difficult to broach the issue now, in the cold light of day. It was obvious she didn’t want to revisit the emotional outbursts of that feverish night. So instead, he resorted to flirting.
“Since we’ve spent the night together, why don’t you give me a kiss?”
“You’re obviously feeling better,” she said crisply.
“I’d feel better still if I got a kiss,” he insisted, and kept tight hold of her wrists.
His tactics didn’t work on Katie. He ought to have known that by now.
“I have no intention of kissing you, sir. You haven’t brushed your teeth for three days, and you’re in desperate need of a shave,” she said. “Let me go so I can fetch you some hot water.”
Reluctantly, he released her, and she went over to the washbasin to find his shaving things.
“Katie?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I keep thinking of things that happened while I was ill.”
He saw her face blanch and she bit her lip, and he felt a pang of guilt. His intention was not to embarrass her.
She brought the shaving things over and sat down on the bed to help him. She opened it up and smiled, and he realized she must have seen the little picture of Rita Hayworth that he kept tucked in there.
He took the little wooden box from her and closed it, firmly.
“I only want to thank you, that’s all. Dr. Larchwood was difficult that first night, wasn’t he? And you made him stay, I think.”
“I wanted the very best treatment for you, sir. I did what my conscience told me to do.”
“Your conscience,” Michael said impatiently, “what about your heart?”
He saw her eyes fill with tears, and she tried to look away. Michael scowled. Why couldn’t she say it? Why wouldn’t she repeat what she’d said to him that night now that he was awake and able to respond?
• • •
Katie went for a long walk down by the river. She needed to be alone with her thoughts. Yes, he had her heart, and now, he had the power to break it. What she felt for Michael was much deeper than any infatuation she had ever known before. This was real. She had thought she would die of heartbreak the night he nearly died in her arms.
She walked further, knowing that back at the house he would be sitting up in bed with the children crowded around him. They would be swarming all over the bed, happy and excitable. Bob would get her chance to show off her new dress, and all four of them would be thrilled to see their “squadron leader.” Alfie would be talking about his inventions and George would be misunderstanding it all. Roy would be standing in the corner, taciturn on the surface, but happy all the same.
She was in love with him, yes, but what kind of future could there be for two people as different as her and Michael?
When she got back to the house, she decided to run herself a bath, recklessly ignoring the wartime guidelines to fill the tub only an inch or two deep. She let it fill up and up, and poured in a liberal amount of the bath crystals that she’d found in the back of the airing cupboard. After everything she had been through, she reckoned she deserved a good soak in a deep, foamy tub of hot water. But as she eased her body into the warm water and tried to relax, she could not dispel thoughts about what it might be like to love Michael — to really love him with her whole heart and her whole body. She took the small, precious piece of soap and used it liberally to wash away the troubles of the day, and all the time she wondered what it would be like to have his hands on her body. To feel his touch, his caress, instead of her own.
Chapter Twenty
Katie checked to see if the corridor was empty before going to his room each night, not wanting the children to see her. She knew this was wrong. He wasn’t ill any more, and the excuse that he might need her during the night was wearing a bit thin. Or rather, it had taken on an entirely different meaning.
Of course, they hadn’t actually “consummated” their relationship. Katie still slept on top of the eiderdown, and Michael slept underneath. But it was different now. He would reach for her in the middle of the night, and they would kiss in the dark. His kisses left her weak with longing. Her desire to be close to him grew stronger all the time. The eiderdown barrier wouldn’t last much longer.
“Katie! Is that you?” he called out.
“Yes, it’s me,” she said softly. She closed the door behind her. He was already in bed, and looking so pleased to see her that she felt her heart lurch. This is wrong, this is all wrong. Feeling as guilty as sin itself, she hovered by the door.
“Maybe you could turn the key tonight,” he suggested, “so the children don’t come in.”
Katie was surprised. He had never asked for that before. But she did as he asked, and her fingers trembled as she turned the big heavy key in the door.
I’m alone with him now, in a locked room.
“Come here.”
The space beside him on the bed beckoned to her, and so did his smile. No man should be allowed to have a smile like that, she thought. It must have won him dozens of admirers.
“Don’t be shy,” he said.
She nodded, but she couldn’t speak. In the light of the bedside lamp, Michael’s hair shone gold, and his eyes sparkled sapphire blue, for her. His aristocratic face was lean and handsome, and when he smiled again, she went weak.
He stretched out his hand. She sat on the very edge of the bed, feeling ridiculous and awkward. She wore a soft, brushed cotton, white nightgown and fiddled with the ribbon at the front,
“I’m wondering if I shouldn’t go back to my own room, tonight.”
A flicker of concern crossed his face. “I thought you quite liked being here with me?”
She put a hand to her chest. Her heart was beating much too fast. “You know I do.”
“One more night, Katie. Just stay with me one more night.”
“Mrs. Jessop knows.”
“I don’t care,” he said.
Katie closed her eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by a yearning to be held tightly in his arms. “Lord Farrenden, I — ” she began.
“Sweetheart! We are long past that!” He reached for her, impatiently, and pulled her close. His mouth was on hers and she trembled and gave in to his demanding kisses. She let him push her down on the pillows and kiss her throat, she let him fondle her breasts only to kiss her mouth again, deeper, harder as if he would bruise her lips, but then softer, sweeter, and more gentle than ever.
“You know I’m not a virgin,” she said hesitantly, waiting for his reaction.
He stopped touching and stroking, and met her gaze instead.
“Katie, even if it had not been for that night we never talk about, I would have guessed. You have a knowing look about you.”
She bit her lip. “Is that so?”
“Yes. I’d say that you have known pleasure at the hands of a man, but you have also known great pain.”
He had hit a nerve and it was raw. She began to tremble. So this is what it felt like to have someone look into your soul.
He continued. “You trusted Tom, and then he hurt you.”
She nodded.
“He was the reason you left,” Michael said, watching her face without wavering, as if he was trying to read her reactions. “Katie, did you have to hide what he had done to you?”
A tear ran down her face. “He got me pregnant, but he wouldn’t marry me. He was too far above me.”
“He was too far above you?” Michael said with a raised eyebrow and a hint of irony in his voice.
“Yes. He wanted nothing to do with me when he found out about the chil
d.”
“And so you came to England to have your baby.”
She almost begged him not to ask her anymore.
Michael hesitated, and then he held her face cupped in his hands, and leaned forward to kiss away the tears. “Tell me,” he whispered.
“I don’t talk about it. That’s how I get by.”
He was undaunted. “You risked living in London with all the bombing to keep it a secret?”
“I had no choice.”
“Your family, your parents — they wouldn’t help you?”
“I couldn’t tell them.”
“But didn’t you want to tell your mother? If you had found the courage to tell her, maybe she would have understood.”
“Not my mam. She didn’t want to know, and my father would have beaten me black and blue.”
He swore gently under his breath. “I see. So you had to tell people you were coming to England to do nursing,” he said. “Or at least that’s the tale I got from Marjory Mallory.”
“Yes. But the first nursing I ever did was for you.”
He smiled and gave her a kiss.
She sighed. “I found the address of a place that helps stupid girls like me, and I went there. It wasn’t a nice place, but I was grateful. I stayed there until … ” she knew that her voice was very shaky now.
“Until your child was born and given away?”
She couldn’t answer him. She didn’t want to say the words. Saying the words meant accepting the truth.
“I want to help get your baby back, Katie. I know you will have signed papers and you probably imagine all is lost, but with money and a really good lawyer — ”
“No!” She stopped him, touching her hand to his mouth, shaking her head. The words he meant so kindly pierced her heart. “She was never adopted.”
His eyes met hers, as he began to understand. “Something went wrong?”
“She was born too early, she was too little … ”
“Oh, Katie,” he gathered her back into his arms, and she sobbed freely now. He held her tight, and tried to offer her some comfort. “I wanted to stay, you know. I wanted to stay and hold your hand. And I could have — we were bombed in.”
“Nobody thought less of you for going. I was just a stranger to you, sir.”
“You needed me.”
They were holding hands tightly now.
His blue eyes were full of heartfelt apology. “I don’t know why I didn’t stay. Fear, embarrassment, I suppose. Never seen a woman give birth before. Plenty of horses, of course, but never a woman.”
“It doesn’t matter, Michael.”
“It does. I thought a lot about it afterwards, I wondered what had happened.”
“It was awful. You were better off out of it.”
“You were so scared — I could see the fear in your eyes. I ran away from it, and that was cowardly. I hated myself for it.”
“She was born about three hours after you left. And she lived only an hour more.”
“I wish I’d seen her.”
His words gutted her with their sincerity, and Katie lost her heart in the pain of the memory. Tears came fast now, tumbling down her cheeks. “She tried to open her eyes, Michael, she tried. She fell asleep in my arms. She looked like a little angel.”
Michael wrapped his arms around her, and held her tight. “I’m so sorry. I thought it was the man you grieved for, not the child. If only I could give you another little girl,” he said. He kissed her forehead and cradled her while she let out some of the grief she had held so close to her heart.
It was a few moments before it sunk in, what he had told her. She turned and looked up at him. “No kiddies, then, for you? No heir for all of this?”
“No.” His voice sounded empty and hollow.
“It seems so unfair, that you should lose that hope along with everything else.”
“Yes, it does,” he said. But she noticed, for the first time, that he spoke of this loss with no anger, no rage, and no bitterness. They held each other for a long time, listening to their collective breathing. Finally, Michael turned her face toward his, and his blue eyes were very intense. “If you wanted to, Katie, we could comfort each other.”
She didn’t answer straight away. She stared back into his clear blue eyes and felt as if she knew at last why she was here, and what had brought them together. “Perhaps we could,” she said. “I’ll do anything you want.”
He paused, gazing at her. In his eyes she saw hope, and longing, and tender compassion, but he didn’t move. Finally he spoke, as if it wasn’t easy to find the right words.
“You’ve been crying,” he said. “It would be wrong of me to take advantage of you now. Go to sleep, my darling. But tomorrow morning, when we wake, I’ll ask you again. If you still want to, we could try.”
She let out a breath and her tension began to ease. It seemed right that they should wait, and she nestled against him, enjoying his warmth. He knew everything about her and he still held her and kissed her hair. For the first time in ages, it seemed easy to set all her troubles aside and drift away into sleep.
Chapter Twenty-One
Michael lay awake for a long time, wondering if he’d said the right thing. He heard the clock striking midnight, and then he thought he heard it strike one, and after that he must have dozed off. He awoke with a start when he heard a noise downstairs. Maybe it was a rat. He’d have to speak to Jessop about it tomorrow morning. He lay awake, listening keenly, until he heard another distant crash. Someone had knocked something over. Something metal.
It sounded like an intruder.
Katie was in a deep sleep beside him, so he didn’t wake her. He reached for his dressing gown and hauled it on, then maneuvered himself into his chair as quietly as he could, and went to investigate.
• • •
He wheeled himself quietly along the hall, becoming anxious when he saw the flicker of light under the kitchen door, until he heard the voices. Even before he pushed open the heavy oak door, he knew what he would find.
The children were in the kitchen. They had lighted two candles, which annoyed Michael, because candles were rationed, plus there was the danger of burning the house down. They were gathered around the table, tucking into bread and jam.
Michael flicked on the kitchen light and they all blinked at him in dismay. Alfie was standing on a stool over by the Aga, heating something in a small saucepan. He was so shocked to see Michael that he nearly lost his balance.
“What the dickens are you doing down here?” Michael shouted, hoping to put the fear of God into them. The twins practically jumped out of their skins.
Roy tried to be the spokesman for them all. “Having cocoa, Mister Lord. Want some?”
“No, I do not want cocoa at two o’clock in the morning. You can’t come down here and help yourself to food and beverages in the middle of the night.”
Bob started to cry, and by the looks of her, not for the first time.
George tried to intercede on behalf of his twin sister. “Don’t be angry, Mister. Bob got nightmares, and we went to look for Miss Rafferty because she knows how to make the nightmares go away. Only she’s gone, sir. Miss Rafferty’s gone.”
“She’s not gone,” Michael said with a bit of a hesitation. “She’s asleep.”
“She isn’t,” George told him, in tones of great anxiety. “She’s not in her room, and it don’t look like her bed’s been touched since yesterday.”
“We’ve searched the ’ole house, Mister Lord,” Bob told him. “Top to bottom.”
Michael glanced furtively at Alfie, to see if he had already worked it out.
Alfie was keeping very quiet, watching the milk boiling on the Aga, but when Michael caught his eye, he spoke. “George reckons she’s run off back to London,” he began cautiously, “but I thought we should wait and see if she turns up tomorrow.”
“She didn’t even say goodbye,” Bob wailed. “And now we’ve got nobody to look after us. Only horrid old Jes
sop and she hates us!”
Michael knew he had to confess. “Look, Bob, there’s no need for tears. Miss Rafferty hasn’t gone anywhere. She’s in my room.”
“I told ya!” Roy said. “Didn’t I say she was most likely warming up his bed?”
“Roy,” Michael said, in a warning tone, but the boy’s face was sullen and hostile.
“What? All night?” said George, incredulously. “She’s been warming it up all night?”
“She’s been giving him a bit of a cuddle, if you ask me,” Roy said.
“Roy!” Michael expostulated.
“But I want her to give me a cuddle,” Bob said, and burst into a fresh bout of wailing.
Alfie stared curiously at Michael. “What I can’t work out,” he began, “is why she’d even want to cuddle you, when you are so old and prickly.”
“There’s no accounting for taste,” Michael said in an acid tone, but then he softened. “Roberta, come here, poppet. Don’t cry.”
Bob came forward rather shyly and then climbed onto Michael’s lap, resting her tear-stained face on the satin lapel of his dressing gown.
Roy hadn’t finished, his surly face was red with anger and his voice as gruff as he could make it for twelve years old. “Mrs. Jessop says it’s a stupid girl that gets into the lord’s bed.”
“Does she indeed?” Michael said, experiencing a flare of anger at the thought of the old woman’s interference. The little girl clung to him like a limpet. Michael sighed. “It’s a bit different in my position, isn’t it?”
“What position is that?” Roy said, with an ugly look on his face.
“Wash your mouth out, young man. If I had dared to utter such insolence to my father, Roy, he would have given me a hiding.”
“Well, you ain’t me dad, you’re just some toff what fancies Rita Hayworth and Irish girls.”
“We’ve had quite enough discussion of my private life. You can’t come down here and crash around in the middle of the night, and you can’t help yourself to all sorts of things out of the pantry. It’s an outrageous abuse of my hospitality.”