by Karen Welch
Peg appeared in the doorway, her brows arched quizzically as she stared down at the cord snaking out onto the landing. “Kendall, what on earth. . .” Her eyes went to the handset he had pressed to his shoulder, and her face paled as she backed away.
He tried to relay his reassurance as he returned to the call. “Thank you for calling. I’ll be in touch.”
“Tell her I love her, will you? If you get the chance, I mean.”
“I will.”
Rushing after her when she retreated into the flat, he found her standing at the window, staring into darkness. “Peg?”
“How is he?”
“Fine. Worried. But he seemed relieved to know you’re here.”
Her shoulders were so stiff and straight, her head held so high, he wasn’t sure how to approach her. “How are you?”
“Confused. I know I have nothing to fear from him. But just the thought of him on the other end of the line sent me into a panic.”
Reaching for her, he was encouraged when she turned into his arms. “He just wanted to be sure you were safe. He said he thought this was the best place for you, here with me. So you see, he understands your need for time, sweetheart. He won’t push you.” He hesitated, holding her closer as she started to relax against him. “He asked me to tell you he loves you.”
Peg went still. She seemed to hold her breath for a long moment before a shuddering sob welled from deep within. “Oh, God! What am I going to do?”
There was no need to respond. It was all he could do to hold her as the storm raged, leaving her clinging to him when the sobs finally subsided to soft whimpering. Spent and trembling, she hid her face in his shoulder, refusing to meet his gaze as he lifted her chin gently.
“What do you want to do?”
Her eyes, huge and brimming with tears, searched his face. “Stay with you.”
“Then that’s what you’ll do.”
They hadn’t spoken of the matter since. While he knew it was always on her mind, the reason for her long silences and lack of concentration, he left her to her thoughts. His job, as he’d outlined it for himself, was to see to her physical needs, to make her feel safe and loved, and to watch for signs that the pressure within was becoming too much.
Rain was pouring when they arrived in Hertford on Friday evening, and they were both soaked by the time they made the dash from the cab to the front door. Kendall headed straight for the kitchen, insisting Peg get out of her wet things while he found them something to eat. “I moved into the master bedroom. There should be towels in the bath.” He watched her trudge up the stairs with her bag, water dripping from the hem of her skirt.
Running a hand through his wet hair, he glanced at the mail on the hall table and then made for the kitchen. Mrs. Beatty would have left enough food for an army, he knew, since he’d warned her he was bringing a guest for the weekend.
By the time Peg returned, dressed in slacks and sweater with her damp hair spread on a towel around her shoulders, tea was steeping and he’d laid out a plate of apple tarts. “We’ll have a snack here and with any luck the rain will pass and we can go into town for dinner.” He lifted a strand of hair from her forehead. “Unless you’d rather stay here? There’s plenty to eat, if you’d prefer a night in?”
She took a bite of tart and rolled her eyes before answering. “Um. These are so good. Mrs. Beatty hasn’t lost her touch. A night in, especially if the rain doesn’t pass, would be nice. I’d almost forgotten how peaceful it is here.”
“Then a night in it is. We can cuddle by the cold fireplace and listen to the radio like two old homebodies.”
“Sounds perfect.” She paused, gazing around the kitchen. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
He cocked his brows in surprise. “Well, I wasn’t about to leave you on your own in London.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. This is such a home. It’s a good place to just relax and. . . heal.”
“I was hoping it might be.”
Peg got to her feet, standing in front of him almost timidly. “What would I do without you?”
“Ah, now a better question might be what would you do with me?” He skimmed his knuckles along her cheek, gratified by her smile.
When she raised her eyes, they were shining with something close to mischief. “Can we do that sort of thing here?”
“Of course we can. Where would you like to start? There’s a nice wide couch in the study. Or the carpet in the lounge is quite plush. Of course, there are the conventional beds upstairs, but where’s the fun in that?”
Peg laughed, the first honest laughter he’d heard from her in days. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she rose on tiptoe and brushed her lips across his. “You get to choose the first time. It’s your house, after all.”
“In that case, I choose the study. Less risk of carpet burn.” He scooped her up in his arms, laughing at her startled squeal.
“Now?”
“Any reason we should wait?” He stopped in the doorway, staring down at her sternly.
“No. But I didn’t finish my tea.”
“That’ll teach you to offer sex to a man on a rainy afternoon, or any afternoon for that matter. I’ll make more tea later. Right now, we have better things to do.”
The better things lasted until long past dark. Making love to Peg, now that she was more herself than she’d been since her unexpected arrival, demanded nothing less than his best. He took his time, slowly undressing her before allowing her to do the same for him. With his entire focus on bringing her to ecstasy, he almost forgot the small matter of protection, until Peg herself leapt from the couch and raced up the stairs, treating him to the vision of her body shimmering in the fading light as she made her slower descent.
“Now I suppose I’ll have to arouse you all over again, won’t I?” she teased, eyeing his obvious condition with a grin.
“Do what you must, sweetheart. I’m at your mercy.” Flinging his arms wide, he let out a groan as she stood over him, tracing a meandering line down his body with one fingertip.
“I like the sound of that.” When he grabbed her wrist and pulled her down to his side, she laughed. “Impatient, aren’t we?”
“I can’t speak for you, but yes, I’m impatient. You’re so beautiful, so desirable and so passionate. But more than that, you’re mine. You give yourself so completely, nothing held back. How can you expect me to be patient when I know what’s waiting?” He slid her beneath him, trailing his mouth downward from her throat.
“Kendall?” she whispered.
“Um?”
“I need you. I need you now, right this minute.”
He raised his head, grinning down at her. “Now’s who’s impatient?”
For the first time since she’d revealed the reason for her flight from New York, Peg seemed free of the desperation that had driven their lovemaking. Nestled by his side in the halo of light from a single lamp, he sensed she was not only sated, but more genuinely relaxed and content than she’d been in days.
“Hungry?” he whispered into her hair.
“Um. Maybe. But eating would mean letting you go, and I’m not ready to do that.” She wrapped herself closer, pressing her lips to his shoulder. “Have I ever told you how wonderful you make me feel?”
“Not in so many words, I don’t believe so.”
“Well, that was a serious oversight.”
He waited, until her breathing began to slow toward sleep. “Hey, don’t leave me hanging. Aren’t you going to tell me now?”
“Oh, you mean you really want to know?”
“Of course. A man likes to hear of his accomplishments. The old ego needs all the stroking it can get.”
She seemed to be gathering her thoughts, as she dragged her hand across his chest in lazy circles. “You make me feel treasured. As if I’m the thing you value most. I feel as though your whole being, body, mind and soul, is focused just on me.” Lifting her head, she studied his face for a long moment. “I kno
w people think I’m spoiled. I’ve always gotten anything I wanted, just by asking. But you gave me something I didn’t know how to ask for. That first time in New York, when you made love to me in the nursery, you showed me something I never dreamed someone like me could have.”
“What do you mean?”
“You showed me how to give and take equally. I’ve always just taken, without anything expected in return, because I thought it was my right.”
He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “That’s me, love, a socialist at heart.”
“I’m serious, Kendall. I’ve always felt you were the only person who saw me completely for myself. I never thought you cared about the rest. You would have liked me if I’d been something other than Michael Shannon’s daughter, so it stands to reason you’ll still like me now that it turns out I’m not.”
Rolling on his side, he turned her face to his. “You’re probably not going to like what I’m about to say, but hear me out please.” She stared up, her eyes wide and suddenly apprehensive, but he went on, convinced that until she faced the truth, she would not begin to heal. “You’re right. I would love you regardless of whether your father was the postman or the Prince of Wales. But the truth is you are Michael Shannon’s daughter in every way that matters. Michael Shannon raised you as if you were his own. He is as proud of you as he would be of his own. He fully intends for you to take over everything he’s built, especially the charity he established to honor your mother’s memory, because in his heart and mind, you are their daughter. Did you ever think that after your mother died, he could just as easily have turned you over to nannies and boarding schools and never had anything more to do with your upbringing? Instead, he’s kept you as close to him as he possibly could. I’ve seen you together since you were just a kid, remember. Everything I’ve seen bears witness to the fact that he’s your father, no matter what mistakes you may think he’s made.”
As he had expected, she looked away, closing him out. While he continued to hold her, he knew she had retreated within that shelter she so often erected around herself. His only hope was that something he’d said would eventually move her toward the reality of her life. Otherwise, he couldn’t help but wonder where she would go from here.
Chapter Forty-three
It took two days of pretending he hadn’t noticed her withdrawal before Peg began to come out of her shell. They had eaten together, walked the garden side by side, and shared a bed, but not once had she mentioned her situation or his argument in her father’s defense.
Now, sitting in the garden at twilight, she carefully closed her book and stared out at nothing. “I’ve been thinking.”
He resisted a smile at her understatement. “Have you?”
“I didn’t like what you said, but you were right.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
She sighed, finally turning to him. “But I still don’t know what to do.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I think I want to stay with you a while longer. I even thought I might stay here on my own when you go back to town. I love it here and Mrs. Beatty mentioned you need some new linens for the bedrooms and the dining room drapes have gotten awfully faded. I could stay here and help her with those things, if you don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind at all, if it pleases you. I’ll have to get back to work in another week. But you’re welcome to come and go from here as you like.”
A little smile played at her lips. “I even thought about asking her to teach me to cook. Do you think it’s hopeless at this point?”
He chuckled, taking her hand. “No. I think you could do anything you put your mind to.”
“I promise not to burn the house down. I wouldn’t dare try anything on my own.” Turning her gaze back to the garden, she sighed. “I suppose I should write to my father, shouldn’t I?”
He took grateful note of the fact that she hadn’t referred to Michael by his first name. “I’m sure he’s anxious to hear from you.”
“I’m not ready to go back yet, but I don’t suppose there’s any rush.”
“No, love. No rush. You’ll know when the time comes.”
Silent for several minutes, she finally turned to him again. “I meant what I said. I do sometimes wish things were different, that we were different. I love you so much. Even though we’ll never be other than what we are, loving you is the best thing that could ever have happened to me.”
Past the lump in his throat, he answered, “The same goes for me, sweetheart. And who knows, maybe someday we will be different.”
Her only answer was an indulgent little smile that said clearly she didn’t believe in miracles.
Peg’s recovery was slow and steady. In the following weeks, each time he returned to Hertford, she showed visible improvement. Busy with simple domestic projects, or not so simple in the case of her determination to “freshen” every room in the house on the budget he’d given her, she seemed content. They settled into a routine, spending their weeks apart and their weekends as close together as they could get.
Peg, he realized very quickly, had taken full charge of his household. Malcolm, the man hired to tend the property, became her eager slave, tackling chores to which he’d only nodded noncommittally when Kendall suggested them. Under her direction, the house was cleaned from top to bottom, furniture rearranged and subtle changes made to modernize the rooms. Determined to learn her way around the kitchen, Peg made an earnest effort, and while Mrs. Beatty declared her a success when it came to boiling water and making toast, the cooking lessons were abandoned after a couple of weeks. Peg seemed to accept her limitations without too much regret.
“It’s not as if I need to be able to prepare an entire meal. There are always restaurants. At home, I just help Mrs. Leary with the menus, or at least look them over, and she takes care of everything else. I did enjoy doing the shopping with Mrs. Beatty. Did you know that peas can be purchased still in their little pods?”
Pulling her into his arms, he felt the weariness of the weekly journey from London evaporate. “As a matter of fact, I did. Now tell me you missed me.”
“I missed you. I love being here, but I love it better with you. Come see what we’ve done in your bedroom.” Wriggling in his arms, she tried to turn toward the stairs.
“Not so fast. Don’t I get a welcome home kiss first?”
Taking his face between her hands, she stifled a grin and kissed him lightly. “There. Now come upstairs, please.”
“Don’t worry, love, I fully intend to. But first, how about a bite to eat?”
She thrust out her lip, leaving to him wonder just what she had in mind during that tour of the bedroom. “All right. Mrs. Beatty left supper in the oven for us.”
He shed his jacket and followed her to the kitchen, taking time to study her as she laid out the meal. “You’re looking chipper. Roses in your cheeks, sparkle in your eyes. You must have had a good week.”
“Oh, I did. We finished up the last room, that being your bedroom.” She wiggled her brows suggestively. “We took another load of things to the church for their fall jumble sale, and Mr. Malcolm washed all the windows. I love the way clean windows make a house look all happy when you walk up, don’t you?”
Chuckling, he shook out his napkin. “Never really gave it much thought. But I’m sure the house appreciated the attention.”
“What about you, how was your week?”
“Not too bad, although the situation with the orchestra is increasingly unpleasant.”
“Are they still threatening to eliminate contracts and put everyone on an hourly pay scale?”
“Not just threatening. More like promising now. It’s not going over well with the players, especially those who’ve been there for a while. They see it as not only financially devastating, but downright insulting. I’m afraid we’re going to have a real exodus before the thing’s done.”
“Good you have your income from your grandparents. Not to mention the qu
artet.”
“I’ll be all right. But some of the others are rightfully worried. Geoff says he’ll have to take on more work, since they just had their second child last year.”
They ate in silence for a time, and Kendall decided this was the best opening he could hope for. “Speaking of babies, Maeve had hers on Sunday night. A little girl. Margaret Adelaide.”
“Oh! That’s wonderful! They must be thrilled.” He took a relieved breath at the genuine interest in her smile. Interest was a good reaction, as opposed to indifferent, anyway.
“Yes. Reggie’s positively idiotic with paternal pride.” Putting down his fork, he reached for her hand. “We need to talk, love.”
She blinked at him before looking away. “About what?”
“As you would expect, Aunt Addie telephoned your father with the news. Maeve and Reggie want you to be the baby’s godmother, but of course you weren’t at home for them to ask you in person. Your father made up a story about you spending some time on the Continent and promised to get in touch with you. The christening is in two weeks.” She looked up, apprehension dulling her eyes. “It’s time to get back to your life, sweetheart. This is the perfect opportunity to see your family here and then go home to New York.”
“What if I’m not ready?”
“I think you are. You’ve been writing to your father. And he’s been writing back. I assume to the two of you have been working out your differences.”
“We have. And I promised him I’d go back soon. I guess I’ve just been pretending I had something important to do here, putting it off.”
“What you’ve done here was important. You gave yourself time to get back on your feet. But it has to end sometime, and joining your family in London to celebrate Maeve and Reggie’s baby should be an easy way to end it.”
“What about us?”
Now he blinked. “What about us?”
“Are we ending, too?”
“Peg! Of course not. We’re just going back to what we were before, two people who are fond of one another sharing a very long distance relationship.” He placed a finger under her chin, urging her to meet his gaze. “We’ve been playing house, haven’t we?”