Leath's Legacy

by Anne Ashby

  After he named the peninsula and visible islands, the arm didn’t move. It stayed resting on her shoulder, ushering her closer. His breath fanned across her neck as he spoke, its touch doing nothing to help her stay composed. She felt so ruffled it was a wonder she didn’t up and fly away.

  The silence was oppressive, overwhelming, and even scary. The sound of the wind rustling the trees, the occasional birdsong, and the tinkle of the stream scurrying over and through the rocks all disappeared.

  Instead his breathing whispered against her ear. And the thump, thump, thump of her own heart. Or was it his?

  She closed her eyes, cutting out the beauty before her, but jerked them open when her hearing became more acute. Her breathing increased, in tune with his she was horrified to realise.

  She had to shift, had to distance herself from the warmth of him plastered to her back. He wasn’t going to; in fact his arm had tightened around her waist. With a deep breath she leaned forward then twisted around out of his arms.

  His face was too close, mere centimetres away. The minty whisper of his breath touched her cheek. Dilated eyes captured hers and held her captive as readily as his arms had done. This was a merging of souls, not bodies. Leath’s breath caught in her throat. This was real.

  Almost preoccupied with the depth of his eyes, Leath should have been preparing for the touch of his lips against hers. Were the avoidable soft nibbles his way of testing her? Of asking permission? Of gaining her approval before he began the primal assault?

  Who knew? Her senses didn’t give her a chance to analyse anything except her desire to taste more of this man. Much more.

  Who moved? They became plastered against each other, their mouths glued together in an ancient ritual of domination and submission. The role of dominant and submissive switched back and forth as their hunger mounted.

  Unconscious movement caused Leath to slip on the uneven surface. Kirk steadied her, but it reminded them of their precarious position on top of the huge bolder.

  With a chuckle Kirk assisted Leath back onto terra firma where he immediately moved to take her back into his arms.

  She placed a hand against his chest. “I’m not sure this is such a good idea.”

  “Feels good to me.”

  Her back connected with the rock wall as he crowded closer. “Kirk? I’m not sure—”

  His hand cupping her cheek didn’t help her resolution to stop this before it progressed too far.

  “What aren’t you sure about?” His gentle voice belied the determined light in his eye. “I want you. It’ll be good.” His lips brushed against her cheek. “I’ll make certain of that.”

  Why did she know he’d make it perfect?

  “Your body’s sure.” The words were whispered against her lips.

  God help her, he was right.

  His fingers slipped through the gap in her shirt and rubbed her nipple. Already peaked, it hardened at his touch. Her legs weakened as she imagined his lips, suckling...the weight of his body pressing her against the rock showed how ready he was to take this to its obvious conclusion.

  “I have a condom in my wallet, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

  Oh God. She hadn’t given that a thought. She was trying to come to grips with the ramifications of intimacy with this man.

  Was she willing to take what little he would share with her? Could she live with loving this man when his needs were purely physical?

  Her heart sank. She had no illusions his feelings went to any great depth. Unlike hers.

  “I’ve imagined making love up here.” The words whispered against her neck were concreting her doggedness to resist him, although he obviously expected the opposite response. “Right out here in the open with the sun shining, the stream running past...letting nature take its course alongside nature.”

  His lips travelled from one side of her neck to the other, his tongue stopping to flicker into her ear before he nibbled his way across her cheek to her lips.

  Leath pulled away. Her resolve would diminish with another kiss sending uncontrollable sensations rolling through her. She’d be lost.

  Again her hands pushed at his chest. “This isn’t a good idea.”

  “What? What are you talking about? I’m on fire for you, Leath, and if you’re honest, you’re on fire, too.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m not denying that.”

  Her words spurned him on. He continued his assault on her senses by grinding his hips against her.

  “Stop it.” She meant the words to be a command, but they fell out as a weak plea.

  With a cocky grin he questioned, “Why? Don’t you like it?” He wriggled again. “Don’t you want to get closer?”

  He grinned. “Admit it, you’re denying what your body is screaming for.” His lips descended. “Give up. Enjoy yourself for a change.”

  “No,” her voice had found some strength. This time she pushed firmly enough to allow her escape.

  “Why?” He caught her arm none too gently as she spun away from him. “I don’t understand.”

  She could see that. His eyebrows almost obliterated his eyes.

  She drew a deep breath. But could she explain when her body was still warring with her head. “Where do you see this going, Kirk?”

  The confusion on his face told her all she needed to know. He hadn’t given any thought beyond the appeasement of their urges right now.

  He hadn’t thought of an hour from now, a day from now, a year from now. Because he didn’t love her, those thoughts never entered his mind.

  She couldn’t think any less of him as he struggled for an answer. An answer to change her mind and allow him to bury himself within her.

  She couldn’t expect the answer she wanted. But it still hurt.

  She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to deny the pain seeping through her. It wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t asked for her love. He hadn’t done anything to encourage her to lose her head and heart. He’d just wanted physical relief.

  The physical act of making love wouldn’t help her. It wouldn’t relieve her pain, merely exasperate it.

  “I’m sorry, Kirk.” She’d bet her attempted smile was pathetic. “I never intended...I never expected...I—”

  “You didn’t.”

  Surprised by the tenderness now evident in his eyes, she didn’t shake off the gentle hand he placed on her arm.

  He gave an answering lopsided smile. “You didn’t do anything to lead me on,” his eyes twinkled, “except be you. Any man in his right mind would be attracted to you.”

  Heat rushed into Leath’s cheeks.

  “I’m not going to pretend I’m not disappointed. Hell”—he scrubbed his hand around the back of his neck, a ruddy colour covering his face—“I’m devastated.”

  His smile turned into a grin. “I’m also giving you fair warning.” He stared into her eyes, his voice serious. “I’m not giving up. I want to make love to you. We will make love. Not today, not tomorrow, but one day soon. When the time is right, you and I will be together, enjoying what we can give each other.”

  Leath’s heart took off, pounding as loudly as the drums at a Caribbean carnival. The chaste kiss he landed on her lips blurred her thinking even more than the influx of extra blood to her brain. She stumbled alongside him, as they re-entered his special place, thankful for the firm hold he kept on her hand.

  “I bought a drink and something to eat.” He picked up the plastic bag she hadn’t seen him leave next to the stream. “We can have a picnic.”

  He laughed at the expression on her face as he sank onto the long grass. Slipping down beside him, but far enough away to keep her senses intact, a bemused Leath accepted the wrapped sandwich he handed her.

  A surprisingly companionable silence lengthened as they munched their way through the impromptu picnic.

  Washing the food down with cordial, Leath felt comfortable enough in his presence to lie back on the grass and stare up into the sky. “You shou
ld build up here, or at least up there.” She gestured toward the boulder.

  “Even if you didn’t live in it permanently, it would be something tangible for when you visit. Why don’t you build your tree house? It would be wonderful.”

  “Would you share it with me?”

  Leath guessed by the immediate bulge of his eyes and his slackened jaw his words had escaped without thought. Rather than hear him retract them and smash her heart, Leath chattered on, highlighting the advantages of building on such a prime site.

  Slowly the uptight expression slipped from his face and soon they were discussing outlandish and harebrained options for utilising Kirk’s special place.

  Could this rapport be the beginning of something precious? The breath caught in her throat. She hardly dared consider the possibility. She might be deluding herself.

  ****

  Ever since Kirk dropped her off at her back fence, Leath had been wandering around like a love-sick teenager. Unable to concentrate on anything, she had wandered from unit to unit, checking them. For what, her brain wasn’t sure.

  Staring at her Roman villa she couldn’t even think what still needed to be done prior to Robby’s arrival with the last of the furniture. Dawdling back to the house, the heat almost tempted her to head to the beach, but she was in a vague enough mood to doubt the wisdom of this.

  Sinking onto the front steps, she began giving herself a stern talking to. Kirk Buchanan was arrogant. He was far too sure of himself.

  Hugging her knees tight against her chest, she decided she liked him arrogant and sure of himself. She liked the way he’d taken her into his arms and kissed her so thoroughly—her eyes closed, hmm...so thoroughly—and then said good night. Tempted—possibly more than tempted—she should be grateful he’d taken her “no” seriously.

  But she was a little bit peeved, too.

  The jingling of her phone broke into her dizzy thoughts. Hearing Joyce’s voice she jumped up. A glance at her watch shocked her. Seven o’clock! Where had the last couple of hours gone?

  “Ah...umm...Joyce, could I ring you back in about ten minutes? I’m only just home,” she lied, “and I wanted to get all my genealogy stuff together before we talked.”

  Flipping shut her phone, she gazed stupidly around, while she refocused her mind. It was time to forget Kirk Buchanan. For a little while, at least.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dashing inside, Leath dug out her notebook and all the slips of paper she’d accumulated since starting her search for Penelope Maguire. She had to shove Kirk into the background and concentrate on Joyce’s startling news.

  Methodically arranging her papers across the kitchen table allowed Leath a few moments to steady her nerves. Part of her wished Robby was here, but as soon as that thought surfaced she dismissed it. Their benefactor’s identity had never worried him.

  He might be shocked by the news Penny was their grandmother, but it wouldn’t upset him much. Would he feel betrayed by their parents’ years of lies? She stopped herself. Maybe they weren’t necessarily lies, she opted for more like half-truths.

  She keyed in the number of her expert genealogist. If only they could find an explanation. Something, anything to help her understand why her parents had denied Penny. And why her mother chose to send numerous photos of her children to a woman they’d otherwise ignored.

  “How are you, love?” Joyce’s concerned voice was balm to her once-more churning emotions.

  Being with Kirk had given her a chance to forget the news about Penny. But now her presence was crowding Leath’s psyche.

  She sank onto a chair. “I’m not sure. Still reeling, I guess. Now I feel like I have even more questions than before.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Did you find out anything else?” When Joyce didn’t answer straight away, Leath rushed on, “I know it’s only been a couple of hours.”

  But Leath had discovered today a lot could happen in a couple of hours. In a couple of hours with the right person, your life could take on a totally different meaning.

  “I did find a report on little Margaret’s death from the coroner’s court in the newspaper. I photocopied it for you. It might be better to read it yourself when you come back—”

  “What? No. I won’t be back for days yet. I don’t want to wait. Read what it says. Please.”

  “It’s a little upsetting.” Cadence in her friend’s voice warned her. Shock, concern, reluctance.

  Leath froze. “What does it say?”

  The pen Leath held poised to take notes slipped from her fingers as Joyce read the newspaper article aloud.

  Detailing the suffering of the three-year-old, the coroner had concluded she’d eventually died from head injuries sustained during a fall. He accepted no physical abuse had occurred and pointed out criminal negligence could not be proved, but he surmised Margaret’s death had been avoidable.

  In what must have been a heart-wrenching attack, he clearly and succinctly apportioned the blame for her death at the door of her mother, Penelope Robson.

  “It goes on to say Penelope and Henry separated after Margaret’s death, and Henry has custody of their one-year-old son.”

  Leath had to say something, even if only to assure Joyce she was still there. “Wow,” was the best she could manage.

  “The records from the actual case will give us more detail, but that’s the gist of it. Journalists are renowned for grabbing at the heart of a story. I’m sure they never missed anything important.”

  “It does fit in with what Mrs. Evans told me today. She said Penny felt guilty about her daughter’s death. I wonder what happened.”

  “We’ll find out when we get the records. It seems it was enough for her to exit her son’s life forever.”

  “It’s so sad. Especially when the coroner said it wasn’t neglect...maybe my grandfather—”

  “Don’t speculate until we get the proper records, Leath. There was something wrong, or the coroner wouldn’t have returned such a strongly-worded finding.”

  Leath accepted Joyce’s word. There wouldn’t have even been a real inquest without some suggestion of doubt surrounding the little girl’s death.

  Margaret, her aunt. She’d had an aunt after all. Well, no...but her father hadn’t been an only child. Had he known about Margaret? Admittedly he wouldn’t have remembered her.

  But did he even know he’d had a sister? Or had his father denied him that knowledge, too? As her indignation toward her grandfather grew, Leath realised her dad must have known something about his real mother. Who else would have told her mother about Penny?

  Sad tears filled Leath’s eyes. She could just imagine her dear, soft-hearted mother trying to establish a link between Penny, her son, and her grandchildren. Did Dad know about the visit to Greene Valley and all the photos? Somehow Leath suspected he hadn’t.

  Poor Mum. She’d have been devastated when her efforts came to nothing. Leath’s weak smile only intensified the tears. But she hadn’t given up. She’d continued sending photos, giving Penny any number of chances to reunite with her family.

  Leath kicked at the table leg. Knowing Penelope Maguire’s relationship to her family didn’t solve anything. The day’s revelation had turned up even more questions.

  “I think we should keep digging. While we wait for the coroner’s report, I’ll check Penny and Henry’s marriage and divorce.”

  Joyce’s voice penetrated the fog accumulating inside Leath’s head. “We’ll look for details of your father’s custody, visitation rights, that sort of thing.”

  Leath’s head fell all the way forward until it rested on the notebook on the table.

  “Then I think we should dig for more info on Henry’s marriage to your grandmother, Grace. We haven’t researched her at all, and you said she was an amazing woman. Maybe I can find out a few more things about her. It might help us understand why your other grandmother’s existence was kept a secret from you.”

  Leath’s brain had slipped
into park. It might still be working, but it sure wasn’t going anywhere. A few moments more talking to Joyce, and they wished each other good night.

  With Joyce’s voice no longer in her ear, Leath took time to re-orientate herself. Standing, she stumbled across the lounge, turning at the bookcases and returning with a more determined gait. Dusk’s dimness filled the house before Leath stopped pacing.

  Resting her hands against the table, her chin flopped to bounce off her chest. Stalking around the house isn’t helping. She breathed deeply. It’s only stressing me out more. She tried some more deep breaths. Do something constructive.

  With another frustrated kick at one of the table legs, Leath shuffled all the splayed papers together and jammed them into the file box she used. Stomping across the lounge one more time she returned the box to its place on the bookcase. No point stewing over those notes again. She’d found the answer. Penelope Maguire was their grandmother.

  At least she had an answer now to the question of why she and Robby had been chosen as her beneficiaries. Be grateful. Understanding all the other ramifications will drive me silly if I allow it to. It might be better to put it all behind me now.

  Unable to settle or take note of the stern lecture she’d given herself, Leath dragged out the photo albums and worked her way through them more intently. This woman was her bloodline, her true bloodline, whether her father had rejected his mother or not.

  With one album open at the wedding photo, Leath flipped back and forth between the others trying to identify Penny amongst the groups of people. It was impossible. A couple of times she thought she found a younger woman with Penny’s angular features but couldn’t be sure. Leath grimaced. It’s so easy to put names on a photo. If only Penny had taken the time.

  With a suddenness surprising her, Leath remembered telling Terry and Mary about the photos. They’d offered to look. As her fingers made contact with her phone, it jangled, startling her.

  “I wanted to check you were okay.”

  In that second Leath discovered she didn’t need Kirk’s physical presence to turn her to mush. Even his voice robbed her of coherent thought and did odd things to her body. Leath sank onto the sofa, her phone cradled against her ear.