Shannon's Daughter

by Karen Welch

  “I remembered. Not so sure about sour kisses, though.” Taking the glass, he carefully set it aside and bent in to taste her lips. “No, still sweet. May I kiss you, Peg?”

  “You just did.”

  “No, I mean really kiss you, and see where it leads.”

  It led to dangerously near his losing control. Not what he had planned, he forced himself to stop short of taking her there on the couch. As he refastened the buttons on her bodice, he shook his head sadly. “You’re doing it again, brat.”

  “What?” Flushed and disheveled, she seemed confused and a trifle annoyed.

  “Sweeping me off my feet. Here I’ve planned this lovely evening and immediately I’m tempted to tear off your clothes. I haven’t done this sort of thing in quite a while, I’m afraid, but I don’t want to rush tonight.”

  “You didn’t notice me trying to stop you, did you?”

  “That’s the problem. You could do with a lesson or two in coy resistance, you know. Holding a man off to spur on his lust.”

  She finally smiled. “I didn’t think your lust seemed in need of spurring. It was doing just fine on its own.”

  “I would prefer we get dinner eaten first. I spent an obscene amount on that roast. It would be tragic for it to go to waste.”

  She sat at the table watching as he finished preparing the meal. When he lit the candles and joined her, she reached over to take his hand. “This is lovely. No one’s ever gone to so much trouble for me.”

  “Of course they have. They just happened to get paid for it. And you must know I’m also providing this service with a very specific compensation in mind, one which can’t be measured in pounds or dollars.” Touching her cheek, he felt her shiver. “Now eat, please. If you’re not careful, you’re going to end up as dessert.”

  He tried his best to take things slowly. To the accompaniment of soft strings from the phonograph, he led her to the center of the floor where they swayed together for a few moments. If Peg hadn’t been so yielding in his arms, if he hadn’t allowed himself to picture doing what his long-repressed libido was urging him to do, they might have enjoyed the slow, romantic reunion he’d hoped to give her. But that seemed very unlikely.

  “There’s something I should tell you.” He was already breathless, practically panting into her ear.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s been a very long time since I was with a woman.”

  She stiffened. “Really? Are you saying that’s unusual for you?”

  “It would have been highly unusual before my trip to New York.” He swallowed past the dryness in his mouth. “What I’m trying to say is back then, I. . . was intimate. . . on quite a regular basis, not with same woman necessarily, but I rarely went longer than a week or two between. . liaisons. That’s not something I’m proud of, mind you, it’s merely the truth.”

  “I see. And why haven’t you had these ‘liaisons’ since you were in New York?” If he didn’t know better, he’d suspect her of teasing him.

  “Because after making love to you, I couldn’t seem to enjoy that kind of thing anymore.”

  She stared up at him, clearly horrified. “Kendall, are you saying I put you off women?”

  “No! I’m saying I was no longer satisfied with just any woman! I swore off it because it was. . .unfulfilling after being with you.” He ground his teeth in frustration. “You showed me the meaning of making love. Before that, I knew everything about sex, but nothing about love.”

  She sighed in obvious relief. “That’s so sweet. But why are you telling me this now?”

  “Because I’m afraid once we start, I won’t be able to take things as slowly as I’d like. Not the first time, anyway.”

  Rising on tiptoe, she snaked her arms around his neck. Her lips against his ear, she whispered, “Maybe by the second or third?”

  The candles had burned to guttering puddles, casting eerie shadows on the ceiling. Beneath his right thigh, the dull point of his belt buckle prodded him awake. “Peg, darling, roll over, please.”

  Her only response was a hoarsely whispered, “Why?”

  “Because you’re crushing me. And my trousers. We should at least straighten up a bit and blow out the candles.”

  “Why?” She settled more solidly on top of him, an arm and a leg dangling off the side of the bed. With a groan, he lifted her gently, easing out from under her. “Because I don’t want to burn the house down. There’s a good girl, roll over there while I get things sorted.” He chuckled softly, watching her hug the pillow as though it were his replacement.

  He tugged the sheet from beneath her legs and spread it gently over her, winning a sighing smile for his efforts. Quietly, he gathered their clothes and draped them over the back of a chair, taking a moment to align the crease in his trousers. Evidence of their earlier frenzy was everywhere, from one of Peg’s shoes on the couch to the assortment of clothing, both hers and his, scattered over the carpet. He had not been mistaken about his lack of staying-power. And Peg had done nothing to help matters.

  He briefly contemplated the dishes stacked in the sink, deciding they could wait. It was only ten o’clock. The night was still young, and he felt surprisingly fresh. Snuffing out the candles, he switched on a lamp, unwilling to sacrifice the sight of Peg in his bed.

  “Can I get you anything?” Standing over her, he studied her profile. She was a lovely young woman, whatever the setting. But nestled between his sheets, her hair spread in a web of shining waves on his pillow, she had never been more beautiful.

  “You. Come back to bed.” Rolling onto her back, she held up her arms with no thought for modesty.

  “You’re sure? I doubt you’ll get much sleep if I do.” Stretching beside her, he braced on one elbow. “I can’t resist you, brat. And I don’t intend to try very hard.”

  Closing her eyes, she smiled. “I wouldn’t want you to. You’ve earned a little fun, after three years of celibacy.”

  “Fun? Is that what that was? I was terrified at one point I might fire off like a cannon and send both of us through the roof.” Tenderly, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Now that’s out of the way, we can have some real fun.”

  Opening her eyes at that, she stared up thoughtfully. “What kind of fun? It’s too late to go out dancing, and I’m not in the mood for cards.”

  “No? And here I had my heart set on a game of canasta.” Nuzzling her ear, he let his hands rove tentatively over her body. “I suppose I’ll just have to be satisfied with something tamer.”

  “Tamer?” Flinging back the sheet, she rose to her knees. “Sorry, but I haven’t waited three years for tame.” Hair tumbling riotously around her shoulders, eyes gleaming in the dim light, she seemed poised for attack.

  Folding his arms behind his head, he assumed a pose of casual indifference. “Oh, really? And what precisely have you been waiting for?”

  Her hands had begun their own hungry exploration, causing his breath to catch and his body to respond with gratifying speed. “I’ve been waiting to do this. And I was right. You’ve definitely gone from yummy to magnificent. Kendall, you’re beautiful. Yours is the kind of body sculptors envision in marble and artists create from their imaginations. You could make a lot of money posing for art classes, you know?”

  If he hadn’t been so mesmerized by the trail of arousal she was creating, he would have laughed more heartily. As it was, all he could manage was a groaning chuckle. “Sorry, love. I only disrobe for you these days.”

  “That’s almost a pity. But then again, I’m selfish. I don’t think I’d want to share you with a room full of gawking art students.” With one fingertip, she traced a pattern down his torso, warranting his full attention. “I like to sketch though. I probably couldn’t do you justice, but it might be fun to try. I’d be willing to pay you, of course.”

  Unable to remain passive any longer, he dragged her across his chest. “Pay me now. And bear in mind, I don’t come cheap.”

  “I’m an heiress,
remember? That shouldn’t be a problem.”

  With his train not scheduled to depart until noon, he was determined to make the most of their last few hours together. At dawn, he edged from the tangle of Peg’s embrace and shrugged into his dressing gown. As he began preparing breakfast, he deliberately made more noise, but she continued to sleep soundly, one arm slung across his pillow and a little smile on her lips. Deciding his only choice was to physically drag her from her dreams, he dropped to the bed beside her and ran a finger, chilled by a rinse under the cold tap, along her spine.

  “Umm. Are you up already?”

  “I’ve been up for hours. I’m wondering if you plan to sleep until noon, in which case you’ll find yourself here all alone.”

  Rolling onto her back, she blinked up at him. “You really have to leave?”

  “Of course. I can’t afford to lose my job, love. Now get up. I thought we’d have a proper English breakfast, and then I thought we might do that thing we do so well one more time before I head off to the mines.”

  “Oh, really? I’d have thought you had enough of that for now.” She pulled him down, ruffling her fingers through his damp hair. “I hope we didn’t wake Mr. Kemper. You were incredible, by the way. I should go away for another three years.”

  “Please don’t. By that time I’ll be past thirty and you might be more than I can handle.” The ready access was too much to resist. Brushing a thumb across the budded peak of one breast, he watched her eyelids flutter closed. “Maybe you’re not hungry yet?’

  “Oh, I’m hungry. But not for bacon and eggs. Why did you bother with this?” She yanked at the loosely knotted belt and swept open his dressing gown. “I can eat anytime. But you’ll be gone for days and days. I’ll be starving to death by the time we can be like this again.”

  “You’re such a demanding little thing. I suppose that’s what comes with wealth and privilege?” Submitting to her hurried assault on the robe, he shed it and stretched beside her.

  “That’s what comes with having the most spectacular lover in all of Great Britain at my disposal. Now shut up and make love to me before I take matters into my own hands.” Judging by the deliberate advance down his body, it seemed she’d already done just that.

  “I’ll see you on Friday, won’t I?” Turning once again from the door, she gave him another of those little-girl-lost looks, similar to the ones he’d squirmed beneath during breakfast.

  “Of course. I should be able to get away and have a bite of supper with you.”

  “And Uncle Patrick and your mother. I suppose we’ll have to pretend we’re still just friends, won’t we?”

  No resisting that sad face, he took the shopping bag from her hand and pulled her into his arms, making sure his wristwatch was visible behind her back. “I think that would be wise. Perhaps we can be slightly better friends by Friday. I do plan to bring Mother slowly to the realization that we’ve grown closer. It’s only right. She’ll be impossible if she thinks I’m hiding something from her.”

  “And how are you planning to do that, bring her to the realization?” Rising on tiptoe, she nibbled along his jaw.

  “Oh, maybe I’ll start by giving you a little kiss when I see you. How would that be?” Taking her mouth in something far from what he’d described, he allowed a full sixty seconds before reluctantly pulling away. “But please don’t respond with that sort of enthusiasm, brat, or we’ll be in for it right there.”

  “I can’t help it. I love kissing you. And other things, of course. Not anything we’d be likely to do in front of your mother, though.”

  He set her away from him, reaching down for the bag. “No. Now be a good girl and run back to your luxurious hotel suite while I finish up here. I adore you, my darling, but duty calls.”

  “Miss me? At least a little?”

  “Miss you quite a lot, I’m sure. Now scoot!” He watched her until she disappeared down the stairwell, her head held high and a look of resignation on her face. Turning back into the flat, he was stunned by how empty it seemed. This space he’d believed filled with all he needed to keep him content now echoed with Peg’s voice, her laughter and the murmurs of their shared passion. Simply by walking out the door, she’d taken any possibility of contentment with her.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  By Sunday, a late night train to London, a few hours with Peg and a return to Glyndebourne by noon the following day seemed completely logical. Better than lying awake for hours longing for her, as he’d done the past few nights. Her ecstatic response to his phone call had done nothing to convince him otherwise.

  “I’ve been sitting here in my pajamas trying to force myself to get some work done. Now I have the perfect excuse to let it slide! Oh, please hurry!”

  “I can’t make the train go any faster than it normally does, love, but I’ll do my best.”

  At nearly midnight, he let himself into the suite at Brown’s, surprised to find the lights low and Peg nowhere in sight. On the desk were stacks of file folders and a note prominently displayed on top. “Come to bed!” Curious, he glanced inside the first folder at what appeared to be a grant application from a community orchestra somewhere in Michigan.

  Shaking his head, he started for the bedroom. A single lamp burned, casting a halo of light over the bed. Propped against several pillows, another folder open on her lap, Peg was sound asleep, her head drooping toward one shoulder. He stood for a moment, taking note of the nightgown of gossamer blue silk, its bodice sculpting the contours of her breasts to perfection, realizing with a thrill of arousal that she must have changed after his call.

  Carefully, he picked up the folder and closed it, setting it on the night table before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “Burning the midnight oil, brat?” he whispered.

  She came to life, eyes flying open, arms reaching out to him. “You’re here!” Before he could answer, she threw herself against him, kissing him with stunning alertness.

  “Yes, I’m here. At least for a few hours. What are you working on?” He nodded toward the folder.

  “Foundation business. The office sent me some applications to go over. At least it’s kept me from missing you too terribly. Are you hungry? It’s not too late to order you something.”

  “The only thing I’m hungry for is you.” He hauled her across his lap, burying his face in her hair. “What have you done to me, Peg? All I could think about was getting back here to do this.” His kiss was long and deep, allowing plenty of time to thoroughly explore the warm sweetness he’d missed and enjoy her eager response.

  “So you did miss me?”

  “Miss you! The only time I wasn’t thinking of you was while I was actually playing, and even then, I had to force myself to focus. This is bad, Peg, potentially disastrous.” He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it to the foot of the bed, while Peg yanked impatiently at the tail of his shirt.

  “Why?”

  “Because in a couple of months, you’ll go back to New York and I won’t be able to do this any time I need to.” Setting her aside, he stood long enough to shed his shoes and trousers before joining her on the bed.

  “All the more reason to make the best use of the time we have. I found an inn in Lewes and booked a room for next weekend.” Stripping his shirt from his shoulders, she ran greedy fingers across his chest, teasing at the black fur and pushing him down on the pillow.

  He sat up abruptly. “What? Good heavens, how are you going to explain where you are? You can’t very well tell everyone you’re coming out there to spend the weekend in bed with me!”

  “Aggie will cover for me. We’re supposed to be going to Bath together.” Getting to her knees beside him, she wound her arms around his neck.

  “And what is Aggie doing, coming to Lewes with you?” he asked against the curve of her shoulder.

  “No, silly! Aggie and her Gavin O’Rourke are going to stay here, in my suite. We’re just trading guilty secrets, you see.”

  He couldn’t resist the assaul
t of kisses and caresses much longer, but he had to know. “Aggie and this O’Rourke are spending the weekend here, in your bed?”

  “Something like that. Now will you please stop asking so many questions? I need you, Kendall, now!”

  “This is what I thought most about, when I couldn’t sleep at night. Holding you like this.” Idly stroking her back, he settled deeper into the pillows beside her.

  “Really? And I would have guessed you thought about those incredibly exciting things we just did to each other, rather than something so tame.”

  “Those did cross my mind, I’ll admit. But this is something I’ve never done much of with anyone but you. Frankly, sex is one thing, cuddling is something else altogether.”

  “I’m going to say that’s very sweet and ignore the legion of former lovers you just brought into the bed with us.”

  “Not legions, sweetheart. And believe me, they are nowhere near this bed just now.” Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he closed his eyes and sighed. “Not lovers, either. You are my first and only lover. Nothing I’ve done before, no one I’ve known before, has made me feel the things you do.”

  Nestling closer, Peg matched his sigh. “I like being the first, especially since you’re my first. But I also like that you’re experienced, that you’re so confident when it comes to lovemaking. I can’t imagine two virgins trying to figure out how it all works.”

  He snorted a drowsy laugh. “Trust me, love, it’s not that difficult. But I suppose it doesn’t hurt when one partner has a bit of experience.”

  “Who was your first?”

  He hesitated, calling up the long ago image. “Miriam Hayward. A friend of a friend of my mother’s. She came to stay with us for a few weeks near the end of the war. I was seventeen and she was twenty-eight. Her husband had been killed in 1940 and she’d been in mourning for years by then. Her friends were pushing her to have a bit of fun, get on with her life. She was a pretty enough woman, but somewhat shy. Even I could see she wasn’t the type to enjoy the parties they were dragging her to. She asked me her to escort her to the opera one night and when we got home, she took me to her room. Needless to say, I had no difficulty figuring out what she wanted and how it all works.”