Shannon's Daughter (12 page)

“Be our
guest.
 
Here, I’ll make you a proper
dance floor.”
 
He moved away, shoving
tables and chairs aside as he went, and Peg rose, draping her wrap over the
back of her chair.
 

“Well?
 
Would you dance with me?”

He had
a momentary flash of that night in County Carlow and the little girl he’d
waltzed around in the dark.
 
Without a word,
he held out his arms and Peg, definitely no longer a little girl, moved into
their frame, her head tilted to one side and a dreamy look darkening her
eyes.
 
For just this moment, he decided
to allow himself to enjoy her, to take in the smooth curve of her neck, the
soft sheen of her skin, to inhale that combination of lemon and warm earth that
would forever be her unique scent.
 
If
they’d met in another lifetime, under different circumstances, he would not
hesitate to take this beautiful girl to bed and show her the kind of pleasure
she deserved.
 

“Kendall?”
 
Her voice was slightly breathless, cutting
gently into his fantasy.

“Yes?”
 
He smiled, wondering what
she
had been thinking.

“You
were looking at me just
then.
. .but I don’t think you
were seeing me.
 
Who were you thinking
about?”

“No one
in particular,” he lied.

“Can I
ask you something?”
 
Her gaze dropped,
focusing on her hand where it rested on his shoulder.

“Of
course.”

“Are
you in love with anyone?
 
I mean, do you
have a girlfriend in London?”

He automatically
responded as he’d trained himself to do.
 
“Good heavens, no!
 
I haven’t the
time or energy for a girlfriend.
 
Why
would you ask such a thing?”

“I just
thought,
when you were looking at me, that you must be
thinking about someone you loved.”

“Ah.
 
No, I was just listening to Strauss.
 
Romance personified.”
 
He twirled her once more around the narrow
space.
 
“Now I’m ready for that whiskey,
I think.
 
Shall we?”
 
Another minute with Peg in his arms and he
doubted his self-control would hold.
 
Giving in to his urges here and now would only lead to apologies and
regrets, something Peg certainly did not deserve.
 

Chapter Ten

He
slept the sleep of the dead, waking only when the sun cut a warm swath over his
pillow.
 
His watch read nine o’clock and
for an instant, he panicked at the thought that he had missed some important
appointment, although he couldn’t recall where he was or what he was supposed
to be doing here.
 
In answer to his
desperate groping through the fog of memory, Peg’s face drifted into focus,
smiling up at him outside his door only a few hours ago.
 
“Good night.
 
It was a wonderful night, once it got started.
 
Thank you.”
 
Rising on tiptoe, she’d laid a gentle hand on his chest and kissed his
cheek, sending him to his bed wishing he’d had the audacity to take her in his
arms for the kind of kiss she inspired.
 

“Dear
God in heaven!
 
Give me strength!” he
moaned into his pillow.
 
Thirteen more
days under the same roof with Peg Shannon, and he would leave New York a
blithering idiot.
 
“Come on, Gregg, old
man, get a grip.
 
You’ve got a long road
ahead of you.”
 
Rolling on his back, he
stared up at the ceiling.
 
What had she
said about her plans this morning?
 
Something about a dress.
 
Maybe that meant he would have some time to himself, time to practice,
even take a walk, work off some of the pressure before she brought on more of
the same.
 
If only he hadn’t agreed to
dance with her that last time, hadn’t held her so close and let her lay her
head on his shoulder, hadn’t allowed himself to rest his cheek on her hair. . .

He
leapt from the bed, throwing off his pajamas as he made for the shower.
 
“Discipline, Gregg!
 
Now!”

Showered,
shaved, and dressed in his most comfortable clothes, he ventured
downstairs.
 
What one did to get
breakfast here, he had no idea, but there was definitely an appetizing aroma
wafting up the stairwell.
 
It was well
past ten yet there was no indication anyone was around.
 
In fact, the house seemed to echo with
emptiness.

Following
his nose led him toward the kitchen, where he detected sounds of life.
 
Pausing in the doorway, he was greeted by a
startled cry.
 
At the range, a short,
plump woman of indeterminate age stood with spoon raised defensively, before
her face relaxed into a grin.
 
“Oh, good morning sir!
 
I didn’t think anyone was about, except for Miss Peg, of course.”
 
Back to her stirring of what appeared to be
eggs in a skillet, she said amiably, “Have a seat, if you like, sir.
 
I’m fixing enough here for two, if scrambled
is the way you take your eggs.”

Beyond
the bay window, he spotted Peg in conversation with a man he assumed to be the
gardener, judging by his canvas overalls and battered straw hat.
 
She was wearing a pale blue sundress, her
braids again pinned at the back of her head.
 
Lit by the morning sun, everything about her seemed to glow, her hair a
warm burnished brown, her skin near the color of the golden stone wall behind
her; even her dress took on the hue of a summer sky.
 
Reluctantly tearing his eyes from her,
Kendall headed for the coffee pot on the counter, pouring a cup and drinking
deeply, scalding his throat.
 
That
discipline he’d ordered up was rapidly evaporating, any thought of practice
vanishing along with it.

Her
conversation ended, Peg caught his eye through the window.
 
Mouthing a hello, he watched her walk the
pathway to the kitchen door, noting that her smile set something in his chest
bouncing along with her quick, graceful strides.
 
He took another draft of the bitter coffee, the
jolt of caffeine hitting him full force at just the instant Peg walked in,
bringing with her the scent of warm lemons.
 
Kendall clenched his jaw, a breath away from greeting her with “God, but
you smell good!”

“Good
morning!
 
Are you the only one up?” was
the poor substitute.

“Oh,
no!
 
Dad and Uncle Patrick have already gone to
meet Uncle Sean and Aunt Maureen at the train station.
 
I haven’t heard a peep out of your mother,
though.”
 
She went to the counter and
poured a glass of orange juice, taking a sip before going on, “I wouldn’t be up
this early, but there were things to do.
 
Did you get some rest?”

“Yes.
 
Thank you.”
 
He turned his gaze toward the gardener, now digging ferociously in the
courtyard, anything to keep his eyes from lingering on the shimmer of moisture
on her upper lip.
 
“A grip, Gregg, get a
grip!”

“What?”
 
Too late, he realized he’d uttered the words
under his breath.
 

“Nothing.
 
Just admiring the garden.
 
How did you sleep?”

She shot
him a curious little glance as she took the chair opposite.
 
“Fine.
 
What would you like to do today?”

“I’d
thought I might get in a little practice.
 
Why?
 
Did you have something in
mind?”

“I have
an appointment this morning with a seamstress.
 
I was kind of hoping you’d come along with me for moral support, and
then we can do something fun, see the sights or whatever you’d like to do.”
 

He
hesitated while the voice of caution pointed out the risk in accepting such an
offer.
 
“All right, you talked me into
it, as long as there’s a little fun in there too.
 
But why would you need moral support for a
meeting with a seamstress?”

With a
sigh, she took a seat across from him.
 
“I have to have a dress made for the symphony
opening.
 
Dad gave them a huge donation,
or the foundation did, and we’re being recognized.
 
You know, we have to stand up while they put
a spotlight on our seats, that kind of thing.
 
And there’s a reception afterward.
 
Dad gave me this incredible necklace for my birthday, and he wants me to
have a dress made to go with it.
 
I’ve
never met this woman, and I’m not crazy about being measured and poked and pinned,
even by someone I know.
 
Anyway, I could
use a second opinion.
 
I have no idea
what kind of dress I should have.
 
I
suppose nothing too fussy, so the necklace gets all the attention.”

He
chuckled.
 
“I’m no expert on women’s
fashion, Peg.
 
Maybe you should ask my
mother or some other female to go with you.”

“No.
 
I really want you to go.
 
At least you sort of know me, which is more
than I would say for your mother or even Aunt Maureen.
 
Would you mind too much?
 
I’ll be as quick as I can.”

He was touched
at her confidence in his knowledge of her, as though they’d shared more than a
few days in Ireland and a few hours in the past twenty-four.
 
“Since I’m such an authority on you, I
suppose I’ll have to, won’t I?
 
But
shouldn’t I change first.”

She tilted
her head, accessing the open collar and short sleeves of his shirt.
 
“No, you look yummy, not so buttoned up.
 
Why do men always think they need to wear a
coat and tie whenever they leave the house?”

Stunned
by the word “yummy,” he scowled.
 
“Do we?
 
And precisely what do you mean by
comparing me to a pudding?”

Her
face stretched into a delighted grin.
 
“That’s not what I meant, but ‘good enough to eat’ fits.
 
I still want to show you off.
 
Maybe we’ll go someplace for lunch where
there’ll be lots of people I know.
 
Or
maybe we’ll just walk in the park and everyone will wonder who that gorgeous
man is walking with me.”
 
She paused, the
grin abruptly replaced with a frown.
 
“You don’t mind do you, when I talk like that?
 
I don’t mean it in any but the best way.
 
You must know how good-looking you are.
 
It can’t come as a surprise that other people
think so.”

“My
word, Miss Shannon, you do make me blush.
 
But perhaps it could be our little secret that you find me all those
things?
 
It hardly seems proper to
introduce me to your friends as ‘my cousin the pudding,’ now does it?”
 

The
grin returned, along with a low, warm chuckle.
 
“I love it when you’re so
very,
very
British, you know?
 
I always have the feeling you turn that on to
cover what you really want to say.
 
Like
you’re just pretending to be stuffy but you’ve really got your tongue in your
cheek.”
 

“You,
Peg Shannon, are too perceptive.
 
If I’m
not careful, you’ll be reading my mind before these two weeks are up.
 
Now when is this appointment of yours?
 
Do we at least have time to do justice to
this lovely breakfast Mrs
.. . .”
he glanced at the
woman by the range, now plating their eggs and bacon with toast points and
garnishes of strawberries and orange slices.

“Oh,
I’m sorry!
 
Mrs. Leary, this is my cousin
Kendall from London.
 
Mrs. Leary’s been our
housekeeper ever since I was born.
 
She
knows exactly what I like.”
 
Peg bestowed
a glowing smile on the woman as she set the elegant plates before them.
 
“Thank you, this looks wonderful.
 
And don’t you agree that he’s yummy, Mrs.
Leary?”

The
woman smiled indulgently.
 
“If you say so, dearie.
 
I’d have to agree he’s not so hard on the eyes.”
 
Turning to him, she chuckled.
 
“You’ll have to forgive her, sir.
 
We’ve always encouraged her to say whatever
was on her mind.
 
And you must know by
now she has a very lively mind at that.”

“Oh,
yes, Mrs. Leary.
 
I had the good fortune
to play nursemaid to this girl once upon a time.
 
I learned very quickly that I was no match
for that ‘lively mind’ of hers.
 
But
that’s one of the things we love about her, isn’t it?”

The
three of them laughed, but he thought he detected a startled glint in Peg’s
eyes before she turned them to her breakfast.

“Really,
Peg, I think I’d be more comfortable with at least a jacket.”
 
Breakfast over, Peg pointed out the need to
leave within the half-hour.

“Oh, all
right, but no tie!”
 
She went to a door
leading off the kitchen, rapping lightly as she turned back to shoot a little
scowl over her shoulder.
 

When
her knock was acknowledged, she motioned to him to join her.
 
“There’s someone else I want you to meet.”

In what
appeared to be an office, the tall, spare man who’d greeted his arrival the
previous day looked up from the ledgers spread on a large desk.
 
“Adamson, I need my birthday necklace from
the safe, please.
 
And I want you to meet
my cousin, Kendall Gregg.”
 
The man rose,
nodding without moving a facial muscle to alter his mildly disapproving
expression.
 

“Actually,
we met yesterday, Peg.
 
Mr. Adamson was
kind enough to lead me to my room before I fell asleep standing in the
entryway.”
 
He returned the nod with the
sinking feeling that Adamson would be far more difficult to charm than Mrs.
Leary had been.

“Good
morning, Miss.
 
Mr. Gregg.”
 
When he shifted his gaze to Peg, his face instantly
softened.
 
“You’ll also be
needing
Simon to drive you, Miss.
 
It won’t do to take a cab carrying that
necklace in your handbag, you know.”

“I
hadn’t even thought of that.
 
Thank you,
Adamson.”
 
She turned to say over her
shoulder in a stage whisper, “Adamson’s been with us since
before
I was born.
 
I’d never
want him to hear me say this, but without him, this house and everyone in it
would be in shambles in no time flat.”
 
She laughed softly as the butler passed her the slim velvet box he’d
removed from beneath his desk, responding to her comment with an out-and-out smile.
 
“Thank you.
 
I promise I’ll try not to lose it.
 
Can I just send it back with Simon when I’m done with the seamstress?
 
That way Kendall and I can ramble on our own
without the car tailing us all over town.”