by Karen Welch
He was pleased to see her settle back with a relaxed smile on her face. She’d been tense all day in her role as liaison for her father. While he’d admired her skill at handling nurses and secretaries, not to mention Michael, he sensed the pressure she placed herself under. Peg, he now knew, never did anything half-way. She threw every ounce of energy and focus into whatever she took on. She had also been disappointed when the doctor insisted Michael stay another night in hospital, just as a precaution. Kendall was concerned there might be a repeat of last night’s tears if she kept herself so tightly wound.
“Oh, by the way,” she was saying, “Connie and Prue will be meeting us at the movie. I mentioned we were planning to go when I called to give her an update on Dad. I couldn’t very well tell her she wasn’t welcome to join us when she more or less invited herself. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. Three lovely young ladies. . .why would I object?”
“It would be nicer if it were just the two of us. But we’ll be home early, so we’ll have some time then.” She slipped her hand beneath his and gently pressed her fingers into his thigh. “Okay?”
“That depends on what it is we’ll have time for. I don’t dare ask what you have on that wicked little mind of yours.” He picked up her hand and returned it to her lap. “Now do behave yourself.”
Her only response was to laugh softly and link her arm in his. Good thing, he couldn’t help thinking, that at least there would be two watchful chaperones on duty during the film. Once they got home, all bets were off.
“I want to call Dad and then I’m going to put together a little snack for us. Wait for me upstairs?” While the O’Hallaron sisters had seemed thoroughly caught up in the epic romance on the screen, Peg had apparently been making plans. Several times during the film, she’d turned to him with a suggestive gleam in her eyes, and now it burned at high beam.
“Where upstairs did you have in mind?” A chill of something hovering between excitement and dread skittered down his spine.
“Just go to your room and I’ll come get you when I’m ready.” She laid a light hand on his chest and smiled sweetly. “I won’t be too long, I promise.”
He did as instructed, trudging up the stairs wondering what ‘too long’ meant in actual minutes. The New York heat had taken its toll again. He felt damp and sticky and in need of his second fresh shirt of the day. Once in his room, he opened the French windows onto the shallow grated overhang, standing for a moment to catch the breeze as he shed his tie. Perhaps he had time to at least sponge off. If they were going to be up until all hours again, it wouldn’t hurt to freshen up a bit.
Quickly, he stripped off his shirt and trousers and ran a basin of cool water. Splashing his face, he let the water trickle across his shoulders and down his chest, moaning in relief. His reflection told him he could do with a shave, but there was probably not enough time for that. With luck, he’d be able to contain their activities to consuming this snack she’d promised. Luck, he reminded himself, might not take into account that deceptively innocent smile he’d just seen on Peg’s lips. Another shiver, which had little to do with the water evaporating on his skin, sent him reaching for a towel.
No sooner had he stepped into the bedroom heading for the closet, than he heard something brush against his door. “Kendall? Can you let me in? I have my hands full.” Peg wasn’t precisely whispering, but he had to strain to understand her.
“No! I’ll come out there. Just give me a minute.” Tossing aside the towel and grabbing for his clothes, he stumbled toward the door, intent on making sure she remained on the other side. “Where are you planning to have this snack? I’ll meet you there.” There was no answer, only further unidentifiable sounds from the hallway. With frantic alacrity, he hauled up his trousers and fastened the fly, shrugged on his shirt and clutched it across his still-dripping body just as the door swung open and Peg, tray in hand, backed in. “What are you doing?”
Obviously a foolish question, for which she had a breezy reply. “What does it look like I’m doing?” She turned and closed the door with one bare foot. Peg too had changed, he noted with a jolt. She stood before him in pajamas, her hair hanging loose over one shoulder and a loaded tray balanced on one hip as she shot the bolt on his door. “Can you give me a hand, please? I’m about to drop this.”
He moved like a man caught in a strong current, fully aware he was in danger of being towed under. “Peg, this is not a good idea. You shouldn’t be here.”
“Why not? We’re just going to have a little carpet picnic and this is as good a place as any. Over here by the windows, where we can get some air, I think.” She placed the tray in his unconsciously outstretched hands and crossed the room. Pushing aside a chair, she indicated the spot she’d chosen. For the first time, she seemed to notice his clothes and arched her brows. “Were you dressing or undressing?”
He set down the tray and tried to cover himself. “Dressing. You should have waited in the hallway.” His fingers fumbled the buttons, and Peg grinned.
“Don’t do that on my account. I’m sure you’ll be cooler like that.” She sank to the floor and began to sort the fruit and sandwiches on the tray. “I hope ginger ale is all right. I thought we could share a bottle.”
“That’s fine. But I still think we should take this someplace else.”
“I suppose we could go to my room.”
“No!”
“Then we might as well stay here. Sandwich?” She held out a triangular wedge of bread and what appeared to be ham and cheese, and he dropped to his knees, surrendering to the inevitable.
“Why not. If you’re not worried about getting caught, I don’t suppose I should be.”
“Adamson and Mrs. Leary have both gone to their rooms for the night. I turned off my light, so if Simon is watching from over the garage, he’ll just assume I’ve gone to bed.”
He gasped, inhaling the first bite of his sandwich, “Simon lives over the garage! What if he’d heard us the other night?”
Doubling over, he coughed up bread crumbs as Peg went on calmly. “He wasn’t there. He goes to check on his mother on Sundays whenever we’re in for the night. I knew that, silly. There was nothing to worry about.” She took a delicate bite of an apple and scowled at him. “Relax. I would never risk getting you in trouble. Besides, this is my house. I can use any room I want for anything I want, can’t I?”
“If you say so. Pass me that bottle, will you?” He took a long drink of the lukewarm ginger ale and cleared his throat. “I’m just thinking of how this would look to anyone who happened to find us here. . .like this.” He again tried to close his shirt but found it had plastered to his skin.
“You’re wet. Why don’t you just take it off?” She casually munched a grape, offering him the bunch with her free hand. “I won’t mind.”
“Absolutely not.” He got to his feet and headed for the bathroom where he snatched his dressing gown from the back of the door. Making sure he was out of her line of sight, he peeled off the shirt, wiped his chest dry with it and shrugged on the robe, belting it snuggly closed. When he returned to his place on the carpet, she grinned.
“Suit yourself. You look very dapper in that.” She plucked another grape, smiling as she popped it in her mouth.
He knew she was playing with him, he just couldn’t quite make out her game. Sitting across from him, the tray between them, she appeared completely innocent. Had he not already seen that innocence mutate into passion in the blink of an eye, he might have enjoyed the sight of her. Her pajamas, tailored shirt and baggy trousers of white satin with blue piping, were designed for practicality, but the way they clung to her body suggested an absence of anything beneath. Unable to find a suitable place to rest his gaze, he tried to focus on her hair, waving softly around her shoulders, but that too led him into dangerous waters.
“Did you enjoy the movie?” He blinked stupidly at her question. “You know, Ivanhoe?”
“Yes. Did you?”
> “Sure. Elizabeth Taylor is so beautiful, don’t you think?” Yet another grape, this one poised between her teeth for an instant. “Or do you like the Joan Fontaine type better?”
He might be safe with this kind of chatter, he decided. “Um. I find Miss Taylor a bit too lush for my taste. I prefer slender women, so I suppose Miss Fontaine is more my type. Although I’ve always thought she was bit limp, if you know what I mean. But I would have thought you’d have your eyes glued to Robert Taylor. All that heroic masculinity.”
“Not really. He’s too old. And if you really look at him, he’s not that handsome. Although he does have nice blue eyes.” She held out the grapes again. “These are really sweet. You should try some.”
He took the bunch and Peg brushed her hands together before running them up into her hair. With an exaggerated stretch of her arms above her head, she yawned.
“Getting sleepy?” Was that hope or apprehension that caused his voice to catch?
“A little. The breeze is wonderful in here.” With one graceful move, she laid full length on the floor, spreading her hair on the carpet around her. “This is nice, isn’t it?”
“Um. Isn’t what nice?” Impossible not to stare at the glory spread before him.
“Just being together like this, eating and talking. It’s kind of cozy, like a slumber party.”
He nearly choked again. “I hope you haven’t been to many slumber parties in men’s bedrooms. Really, brat, you’ve got no business being here.”
She rolled on her side, raising herself on one elbow. “You really want me to go?” That innocence had shifted into flawless feminine allure. Eyes reflecting the lamplight, hair cascading over one shoulder and lips curved in a half-smile of seductive perfection, she literally took his breath away.
“No” he managed to gasp. “But that’s beside the point.”
Lying back, she folded her arms beneath her head. “Until you want me to leave, or I’m ready to leave, I think I’ll stay.” For a moment, she stared thoughtfully up at the ceiling. “Kendall?”
“Yes?” Wary, but warming to her game, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees for a better view. No harm in appreciating the beauty of her silhouette from afar.
“Have you ever been in love?”
He hesitated, trying to guess where she was leading. “I thought so once.”
“What happened?”
“Things didn’t work out.”
When she turned her head, her expression was soft, sympathetic. “Why not?”
“We weren’t suited, I suppose.” She continued to stare expectantly and he felt compelled to go on. Where was the harm, as long as he kept strictly to the admissible facts? “You really want to hear this?”
“Yes. But come over here first. Please.” She held out a hand. Helpless to resist, he moved aside the tray and slid closer, offering no resistance when she settled her head in his lap.
He couldn’t look down into her face as he began, preferring to stare at the wall opposite. “It was my first year at Oxford. I met a girl, another music student, piano. Things happened the way they do, you meet, you talk, you kiss and before you know it, you think you’ve found the love of your life.” He stopped, the vision floating before his eyes unbearably clear.
“What happened to her?” The question was too intuitive. He looked down at her, saw the compassion in her eyes, and felt his chest tighten.
“She had a kind of emotional breakdown before the end of the term. I suppose the pressure was too much, and apparently she’d never been very strong. I heard from her father later that she’d gone into a private asylum for treatment.”
Reaching up, she pressed her hand against his cheek. “That’s so sad. You loved her very much, didn’t you?”
“I thought I did.” He shook free of the memory. “But that was a very long time ago. I don’t know how you got me talking about it.”
She rose to her knees, turning to face him. “I’m glad you told me. It’s as if you gave me something of yourself, something important.” Another instant passed, during which her eyes misted with tears, and she slid her arms around his shoulders, drawing him close.
He didn’t question what happened next. Once they were side by side on the carpet, clasped in each other’s arms, he had no doubt of what she wanted or what he could give. It was enough at first to hold and be held, to kiss her gently and allow her to touch him with hands that comforted more than aroused. Unlike the night before, he had no thought of making love. They lay together for long enough that he lost all sense of time or place, something he had not done with a woman in all the years since that first sweet winter of falling in love.
“It’s late. You should go.” His conscience stated the obvious, while he knew he wanted her to stay.
Without a word, she ran her hands inside his dressing gown, raking it off his shoulders and pressing her cheek to his chest. He knew she could hear his heart quicken as her fingers traced across his skin. Desire, sharp and unwelcome, coursed through him, and he knew she felt that too. It would be so easy to give in, to love her the way he longed to, body, mind and soul.
Rolling on his side, he laid her on her back, smoothed her hair from her face and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Cautiously, his hand passed down the length of her body, skimming lightly over each gentle contour. He raised his head to gauge her response, and she met his gaze with one of absolute calm. When his fingers slid beneath the hem of her shirt, she closed her eyes briefly, opening them again to reveal a spark of anticipation.
The first brush of smooth skin beneath his hand set his pulse pounding. Again, he hesitated, waiting for her to react. Her arms came up to draw his head down, pressing his face to her shoulder. The faint scent of lemons filled his nostrils as he breathed deeply and parted his lips to glide his tongue along the base of her throat. Still cautious, he caressed her ribs, sweeping his thumb upward until it found the first swell of softness. Instantly, she shifted to meet his hand, her arms tightening around him.
“Tell me to stop,” he breathed into her hair.
“No. I don’t want to. Keep going.”
“Peg, I can only go so far before there’s no turning back. I promised I wouldn’t let this happen.” He sounded helpless, even to his own ears. She had crept past his resolve, unwittingly forcing him to feel as he had sworn he would never do again.
When he failed to move, she moaned softly and turned to match her body to his. Her hands dug beneath the robe to spread across his back, while she draped one long leg over his thigh. He was surrounded by warmth, engulfed by sensation. He heard himself whisper her name, pleading, then promising. “I won’t hurt you, Peg. I swear.”
Kisses, tender and reverent, laid gently along her hairline, caresses, placed as offerings on each newly-revealed wonder. When she was finally pressed beside him, with nothing to prevent him from touching and tasting wherever he chose, he paused to meet her eyes again.
“I won’t take your virginity. I promise.”
“I trust you. But I can’t promise I won’t want you to.” A faint smile spread her lips, a shimmer of wonder lit her eyes as she took his hand and stroked the knuckles along her cheek. “Is this what it feels like to love?”
“Yes. I think it must be.”
Chapter Twenty
He woke to delicate fingertips trailing along his ribs. Without opening his eyes, he envisioned the two of them shadowed by the first glow of dawn, twined together on the sheets, Peg nestled at his side with arms and legs and hair flowing around him. Even unseen, she was perfection, sculpted grace and windswept glory. A smile forced its way across his face. Poetry and Peg insisted on moving together through his mind, it seemed.
“Are you awake?” Her voice was husky and warm in his ear.
“Are you?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve been exploring.”
“Exploring?” In an alarmed instant, he made a quick survey and was assured she hadn’t explored too far.
“You’re still dresse
d,” she point out accusingly.
“Yes. But you’re not.” He rolled them over until he was on top of her, pinning her lightly to the bed.
She smiled up at him, a far too self-satisfied grin. “Is that fair?”
“It’s safe. Otherwise, the risk would have been too great. Besides, you’re far more beautiful this way than I would be.” He dropped to her mouth for one soft kiss before bracing above her. Eyes sparkling a challenge, she flung her arms wide and waited. “Oh, yes. Too beautiful to hide beneath those hideous pajamas.” He lowered himself until their bodies met. “And too soft, too sweet to leave untouched. Peg! What have you done? You’ve reduced me to spouting horrible poetry!”
She laughed, wiggling beneath him. “Not so horrible. When did we get in bed? I don’t remember.”
“After you fell asleep on the floor and I couldn’t.” The memory of that moment, when he’d laid her on the bed and allowed his eyes to make love to her was enough to heighten his lingering arousal. “You should leave soon. It’s almost daylight.”
She answered by drawing his head down to the pillow beside hers. “Not yet. I don’t want this to end.” Her hands slid to the waistband of his trousers with an implied request.
Last night he had held himself in check, refusing to introduce her to sensations that would only lead to frustration later, but now as she moved beneath him, he sensed she would go on demanding until her needs were met. Carefully, he rose to his knees, straddling her hips.
“You should leave. Before I can’t let you go.” Taking her hands, he raised them above her head, holding them in one of his while with the other he smoothed her hair from her face.
“I need more, Kendall. I’m not even sure what it is, but I know I need it.”
Smiling down on her, he traced her lips with his index finger. “Don’t be greedy, brat. More will only leave you wanting even more. I’m trying to protect you from that lusty nature of yours, you know.”