A Daughter For Christmas

by Cathy Williams

  ‘How about a cup of coffee?’ he suggested, his hands in his pockets.

  This was hardly what she had expected. Coldness, yes. Distance, yes. A few curt monosyllables and the odd cutting remark. Certainly not this show of courtesy, far less the awkwardness that seemed to accompany it. She wondered whether he had similarly arrived at the conclusion that any disagreements between them should be put to rest, at least over the Christmas break.

  ‘Why not?’ Leigh said, with a shrug.

  She had become so accustomed to the workings of his kitchen that once there she automatically began to make the coffee. Proper, fresh coffee, if only because he produced the packet from the larder, leaving her little choice in the matter.

  ‘You can get the cups,’ she said, and poured boiling water into the cafetière, not bothering to look around at him. ‘They’re in the cupboard above the Aga,’ she added, after he had opened and shut a few doors.

  It was hardly surprising that he did not know the exact locations of most of the things he possessed. As a bachelor, she doubted whether he ever used his kitchen. Mrs MacBride prepared food for him during the day if he was expected to eat at home in the evening, but most evenings, she suspected, he spent out.

  He handed her two mugs, which she filled with coffee. They sat at the kitchen table, drinking and discussing what time they would set off the following day and how long the trip would take. She asked him about New York, and whether he had accomplished what he had set out to do. It was all very civilised, she thought. It was amazing what can be concealed under a veneer of politeness.

  In a minute she would finish her coffee, excuse herself—safe in the knowledge that she had behaved with decorum—and go up to bed. In the morning there would be more of the same. And the morning after, and the morning after that. All those mornings, crammed full of civilised behaviour, until the time came for her to say goodbye and leave, whenever that might be, and she would depart in a similarly civilised manner.

  Underneath, her heart was pounding and her thoughts were doing wild somersaults in her head.

  She looked at him surreptitiously, taking in his dark good looks, the way his long fingers curled around his mug and the glimpse of chest where he had unbuttoned the top of his shirt after he had removed his tie.

  ‘Right, then,’ she said, rising, ‘I guess I’d better be off to bed now if I’m to get up on time tomorrow. Not that there’s much chance of Amy letting me have a liein.’ She walked towards the kitchen sink, tipped out the contents of her mug and rinsed it.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about you,’ he said lazily, and she stiffened.

  ‘Oh?’ She turned very slowly, folded her arms and leaned against the counter.

  He stretched out his legs and continued to look at her speculatively, his head a little tilted to one side, as though listening for the meaning behind her words.

  ‘Thinking about what happened between us, and you know exactly what I’m talking about. I’m talking about what we’ve been at great pains this evening to pretend never took place.’ His eyes were brooding, mesmerising.

  ‘I’m not pretending anything,’ Leigh began shakily, clearing her throat because the distance between them seemed like a million miles. She felt as though she had to shout to make herself heard. ‘It was a mistake.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because...’

  ‘That’s no kind of answer. You said that you had come to your senses, that it was all a terrible mistake, but I think that you’re afraid.’

  ‘Afraid of what?’

  ‘Afraid of what you feel when I touch you.’

  How could he say that in such an apparently normal voice? When she heard him she felt as though she were being systematically stripped, all her essentials laid bare for his inspection.

  ‘I think you want me, and you find that so overwhelming that your instinct is to run away from it, to pretend that it doesn’t exist, that it’s something that can be controlled.’

  There was a response to that Leigh knew there was if only she could gather her wits and get her vocal chords to work.

  ‘I’m here as a nanny...’ she said almost inaudibly, ‘I don’t want to compromise...Amy... We both have to consider...’

  ‘This has nothing to do with compromise.’ His voice was hypnotic. He stood up very calmly and strolled over to where she was still leaning rigidly against the worktop. ‘This has nothing to do with your position here. This has nothing to do with the fact that you work for me. This,’ he said, and he was standing right in front of her now, ‘has to do with something far more elemental than that.’

  ‘Why?’ She looked at him with a trace of desperation in her eyes. ‘Why are you pursuing this? Why can’t you just leave it alone? Is it because you feel that you have to get every woman you want? Is this to do with your pride?’

  ‘Pride has nothing to do with anything,’ he said softly. When he raised his hand and ran one finger along the side of her face she felt her skin begin to burn. ‘And, believe it or not, I don’t go through life, assuming that it’s my right to conquer the female race. Nor am I some monstrous rampant male who can’t survive without a woman in my bed.’

  Leigh wondered what sort of sight she presented with her mouth half open and her eyes wide—a zombie.

  ‘The plain truth of the matter,’ he murmured, ‘is that I want you. No, that’s not strictly true. I crave you.’ He traced the line of her collarbone, then, over her T-shirt, followed the contours of her breasts. ‘And I wouldn’t be doing this now,’ he said, his voice low and unsteady, ‘if I didn’t believe that you felt the same way. If you don’t then tell me, and this will never happen again.’

  In that instant, with his words hovering in the air between them, Leigh made her decision. No more fighting. Let fate and time do their worst, but this physical thing was too strong. It leapt across the barriers between them, made nonsense of her reasoning, threw her life into turmoil.

  She closed her eyes and raised her lips to his, and as his mouth met hers she arched her body against him and kissed him with feverish abandon. This thing inside her—only he could satisfy it, and she would let him.

  His hands circled her waist and slipped underneath her T-shirt. She hitched it up and undid her bra from behind, freeing her breasts for his touch.

  Her nipples ached and she pushed his hands to them, groaning as he massaged her breasts. When he lowered his head to suck the throbbing peaks she pushed her fingers into his hair and pressed him against her. His tongue, flicking across her nipples, sent waves of pleasure surging through every pore of her body.

  Neither of them heard footsteps. Neither of them heard the sharp intake of breath. Their passion drowned out all sound. It was only when Leigh opened her eyes that she realised that they were no longer alone.

  CHAPTER NINE

  LEIGH jumped back, shocked at the sight of Fiona. She desperately tried to arrange herself into some semblance of order, which only increased her feeling of discomposure.

  ‘Well, well, well.’ Fiona strolled into the kitchen, and Nicholas turned and looked at her. Leigh, who wanted to get as much distance between them as possible, had retreated to the Aga, where she now stood with her trembling hands tightly clasped behind her back.

  ‘Hello, Fiona,’ Nicholas said, and his mouth parted in a cold smile. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Actually, I dropped in to give you a Christmas present.’ She produced a beautifully wrapped box and deposited it with a thud on the kitchen counter. For the first time since Leigh had met her she was wearing a pair of jeans, immaculately tailored, with flat, tancoloured loafers and an off-white cashmere jumper tucked into the jeans. Her blonde hair wasn’t tied back, but hung in a rich, velvety curtain to her shoulders.

  She folded her arms, gave Leigh a cursory glance and then half turned her body so that she was facing Nicholas.

  ‘I might have guessed that there was a reason you wanted me out of your house so quickly.’

  Nicholas narrowe
d his eyes and looked at the blonde. ‘You’re entitled to think whatever you like, Fiona,’ he said quietly. His face was hard but his voice, when he spoke, was perfectly modulated.

  Standing there, by the Aga, on the sidelines, Leigh felt completely excluded from what was taking place between the two of them. She was a spectator, but a spectator to a scene not meant for her eyes. If only there had been some way out of the kitchen she would have left, but there wasn’t. Not without walking right between them, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

  ‘How could you!’ Fiona took an involuntary step forward. ‘I thought—’

  ‘What? What did you think, Fiona?’

  ‘We’ve known each other a long time, Nicholas...’

  Leigh heard that and for some reason she felt a shiver of uncontrollable envy as she imagined them growing up together—going to the same parties, playing with the same friends, bonding on the same level. No wonder Fiona had pointed out how ridiculous it was to think that she and Nicholas could ever have anything in common.

  There certainly was no way that she could visualise what it must have been like to grow up alongside Nicholas Kendall. His childhood would have been spent, no doubt, roaming the grounds of his parents’ country estate, riding horses when the weather was fine and jetting off to sunny climes with his parents in winter.

  What had she been doing at a similar age? Her childhood had been a stable and happy one, but the birthday cakes had all been home-made, the holidays had all been in Britain and the school uniforms had all been handed down.

  As a teenager, he would have already been moving forward to his eventual life in the fast lane, cosseted by money, protected from possible failure.

  ‘Which is why I’m standing here, having this conversation with you, Fiona. Because there’s absolutely no reason why I should have to justify myself or my actions to you—or to anyone else, for that matter.’ His very lack of emotion was dramatic. There was a certain intimidating, contained power in his stillness.

  Leigh was pretty sure that they had both forgotten her presence. Now she wondered whether she couldn’t simply hide somewhere in the kitchen, maybe sidle towards the door that led to the utility room and take refuge behind it.

  ‘I thought when you agreed that I could come here—’

  ‘That I was agreeing to more than just providing some temporary accommodation?’

  ‘Why not?’ she threw at him. ‘I recall a time when you couldn’t get enough of my company!’

  ‘Years ago, Fiona,’ he told her patiently. ‘A fling, that’s all. You moved on with your career, went abroad, travelled the world.’

  So, Leigh thought, her stomach twisting, they had had a relationship. Whether it happened yesterday or ten years ago, they had still touched one another, been close. She had to tell herself not to be ridiculous. She hadn’t imagined that he had lived a life of self-imposed celibacy, had she? Of course he had had relationships with women. But had he loved Fiona? Did he love her now, without realising it?

  ‘Look...’ He shifted his position slightly, transferring weight from one leg to the other. ‘When my mother telephoned me and asked whether I would put you up I was more than happy to oblige. You’re right. We go back a long way.’

  ‘And we can keep on going, Nicholas!’ She stretched out her hands in an urgent gesture, then allowed them to fall to her sides. ‘We were made for one another! Have you considered that? I think our parents have always... expected us to perhaps end up with each other...and why not? We have a lot in common!’

  ‘Less than you imagine, Fiona.’ He seemed neither amused nor persuaded by her argument.

  Leigh gave an exploratory little cough on the offchance that it might stall this intimate conversation and provide an opportunity for her to leave. She had no wish to hear all this, no desire to go down memory lane with them. Neither of them paid her the slightest bit of attention.

  For a minute, she indulged in a frightful thought. What if Fiona, with her very sensible arguments, won the day? She was a beautiful woman. That alone would have been enough for most men. What if she made Nicholas see what was apparently obvious to her—and pretty obvious to Leigh as well when she thought about it?

  What if she was forced to witness them putting aside their differences, their arms around one another, in an embrace that would last a lifetime?

  ‘But more than you have with some...’ She glanced around at Leigh and Nicholas followed the direction of her gaze.

  ‘This has nothing to do with Leigh.’

  ‘On the contrary, this has everything to do with her.’

  ‘I would rather you two didn’t conduct your conversation around me,’ Leigh said icily. This was the opportunity she had been waiting for and she made a move to walk past them, but she didn’t get very far.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Nicholas asked, staring at her. She returned his stare defiantly.

  ‘Up to my room. I really don’t think I need to be here, listening to all of this. If you two want to have your little tiff, then leave me out of it!’

  There was petulance, disappointment and downright jealousy in her voice, but she couldn’t control it. She could barely meet Nicholas’s eyes.

  ‘Stay!’ It was a command, and it brought her to a complete stop.

  ‘I want to know what’s going on between the two of you,’ Fiona said harshly, and Nicholas gave her a look of such scorn that she continued hurriedly, ‘Whatever it is, it won’t last, Nicholas. Use your head! She’s an opportunist! Can’t you see that?’

  ‘That’s not true!’ Leigh spluttered angrily.

  ‘I think it’s time for you to leave, Fiona,’ Nicholas said, and she shook her head vehemently.

  ‘Not until you’ve heard me out!’

  When he looked as though he had no intention of doing any such thing she drew back, shaking her head, her fingers digging into her arms.

  ‘You owe me that at least!’

  ‘What the hell makes you think that?’

  ‘Because we share a past!’

  ‘We grew up together, in a manner of speaking, Fiona. I wouldn’t really call that sharing a past.’

  But his stance had softened. He felt sorry for Fiona, Leigh thought with surprise. He was reluctant to hurt her.

  How, she wondered, did that make Fiona feel? Leigh’s mind shot ahead to a time when he got bored with her, bored with her accessibility, when he felt sorry for her, too, and the thought of that made her feel a little sick.

  ‘She’s not right for you,’ Fiona said, slipping back into the mode of speaking about Leigh as though she wasn’t, in fact, standing only a few feet away.

  ‘Not right for me?’ He looked a little bemused by that statement, as though the conversation had taken an unexpected twist.

  ‘She doesn’t belong in your world,’ Fiona told him in the voice of someone driving a point home.

  ‘Let me put you straight on a couple of things, Fiona.’ There was no amusement in his voice now. ‘The first is that I don’t give a damn about whether someone comes from the same background as me or not. Because that’s what you’re talking about, isn’t it? Do you imagine for a minute that having a similar background is a foolproof route to lifelong love and commitment?’ He gave a short, mirthless laugh.

  ‘And the second is this—you seem to think that marriage is the be all and end all of all relationships. I’m not in the process of searching for my ideal mate.’

  Leigh felt the colour drain out of her face. He was only saying what she had known all along, but still the words cut into her like a knife. She reached behind her and gripped the edge of the kitchen counter.

  ‘I hope you hear that!’ Fiona turned to her with an expression of triumph on her face. ‘What a blow for you! I expect you imagined that you could just jump into bed with him and then two days later you would be walking into Asprey’s to choose the engagement ring!’

  ‘I never thought any such thing,’ Leigh whispered.

  ‘That’s enough!
’ Nicholas barked. ‘I want you out of here now, Fiona! When it comes to marriage I assure you that you never even entered the list of candidates.’

  Fiona’s face went a mottled shade of red. ‘Suit yourself! But you’ll be sorry, Nicholas Kendall. How do you think your parents are going to feel when they’re confronted by their one and only son with his illegitimate child? I’ll bet you haven’t mentioned a word about that daughter of yours!’ She laughed and it wasn’t a pleasant sound.

  ‘I’d advise you not to meddle in things that don’t concern you, Fiona,’ he said in a hard voice.

  ‘Or else what?’ She began to walk out of the kitchen. ‘The thought of seeing their faces when I tell them that you’re a father...’

  ‘Leave now before I do something I regret.’ He hadn’t raised his voice, but it still carried the intensity of a whiplash. With one last look, Fiona swept out of the kitchen, leaving behind her a heavy, uncomfortable silence.

  ‘I really think it’s time I went to bed,’ Leigh said eventually, and he nodded.

  ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’ He looked at her and then turned away completely so that he was leaning against the counter, propped against it by his hands, with his head lowered.

  Thinking what?

  Leigh escaped before he had a chance to turn around. She just wanted to get out of the kitchen, out of his presence, as quickly as she could.

  She was shaking all over as she got to her bedroom, and she had to force herself to calm down and take a few deep long breaths.

  Why was she so upset? Hadn’t it been obvious that nothing had happened between Nicholas and Fiona? Shouldn’t that have made her happy? At least she hadn’t had to deal with the possibility of being the eager lover on the side, the temporary distraction.

  And now Fiona had left. That alone should have been cause for rejoicing. She settled under the quilt and stared up at the ceiling, which she could just make out as her eyes became acclimatised to the darkness. She told herself that one great worry was off her mind. There was no threat now that Nicholas and Fiona were destined to become some happy family unit, with Amy stuck in the middle.