Shannon's Daughter (28 page)

“You.”
 
She smiled, as if recognizing the game.
 
“Warm.
 
Strong.”
 
Flattening her hand, she sighed.
 
“Your heart.”
 

Cautiously,
he undid the buttons down her shirt, parting it only enough to glide his hand
across her ribs.
 
“May I?”

“Yes.”
 
He felt the flutter of her heartbeat beneath
his fingers.
 

Opening
first one side of the shirt, and then the other, he skimmed his fingers along
the top of her bra, watching the tips of her breasts harden against the soft
fabric.
 
“Do you always wear silk?”

“What?
 
Yes.”

“Always
white?”

“Yes!
 
Kendall.
. .!”
 
She arched upward and he lifted his hand
again.

“Patience.”
 
His thumb slid inside one cup, tracing the soft curve and dipping down
for an instant to tease at the peak.
 
“You’re so beautiful, Peg.
 
Are
you sure I couldn’t undress you?”

With an
exasperated gasp, she sat up, jerking at her shirt and reaching for the clasp
at her back.
 
Instantly, he pulled her to
him, pinning her arms at her side.
 
“No, love.
 
There’s a
much better way.”
 
When she was still
again, he chuckled softly into her hair.
 
“Allow me.”

Gently
he edged the shirt away, baring each shoulder and trailing it down her arms.
 
The bra followed in the same manner, one strap
at a time, a subtle twist to release the clasp, until finally her breasts
brushed against his chest.
 
Lowering her
to the pillows, he got to his knees above her, taking a long moment to study
the full, sculpted perfection of smooth ivory narrowing to firm waist, aware of
her watching him beneath lowered lids.
 
When he touched his lips to first one and then the other peak, she
clutched at his shoulders, her hips rising against his thighs.
 
“In good time, sweetheart.”
 

As he
focused on tasting her, inch by glorious inch, her response was barely
contained, but he refused to answer her demands.
 
By the time he lowered the zipper on her shorts
and began to coax them downward, Peg was panting, her hips undulating in a
slow, tortured rhythm between his knees.
 
“Take me, Kendall, please!”
 

He
eased himself down beside her, stroking the damp hair from her forehead.
 

“Is
that really what you want?”

“Yes.
 
I know you said you wouldn’t, but why
shouldn’t you be the one?”

He
hesitated, caught in the battle between heart and mind.
 
“I can’t just take you, Peg.
 
I need to love you, to cherish you.
 
I need to give you what little I can.
 
Won’t you let me do that for you?”
 
He accepted her kiss, surprisingly unhurried,
as her answer.
 

What
followed was a mutual journey of exploration and discovery, each recording with
eyes and hands and lips the length and breadth of the other’s body.
 
By the time they were both naked and every
secret divulged
,
the afternoon sun had lowered to
slant its rays across the floor.
 
When he
brought her to a final, shattering climax, followed closely by his own, the
room had grown dim.
 
As they lay
together, damp and sighing, he realized he felt no regret at having made love
to her.
 
They were right together,
perfectly matched in give and take, their tenderness and passion fused into
consummate fulfillment; natural lovers.

“Kendall?”

He smiled
at the hoarseness in her voice.
 
“Yes,
love?”

“You
were right.
 
That is a better way.”

“I
broke another promise to you.”

She
rose on one elbow, sweeping her now unbound hair back over her shoulder.
 
“No.
 
I
wanted you to, and you must have known it would happen.
 
You were prepared.”

He
snorted softly.
 
“I’m always prepared,
love.
 
A man can’t be too careful,
especially not around willing virgins.”

“I’m
glad it happened.
 
If we’re going to be
separated for years now, I wanted to give you my virginity before you go.”
 
Her lips twisted in a wry smile.
 
“It’s not as if I was planning to give it to
anybody else.”

“You’re
sure about that?
 
What about when Prince
Charming really does come along?”

“I have
my Galahad.
 
I’m not interested in Prince
Charming.
 
I’ve told you—but you seem to
refuse to hear me—I’m never going to be someone’s wife.
 
I’m my father’s daughter.
 
That’s enough.”

He
pulled her into his arms with a groan.
 
“I hope not, sweetheart.
 
You
deserve to be loved, to be treasured and protected by a good man.”

“I
am.”
 
She melted into him, arms and legs
twining around him.
 
“I am.”

Chapter
Twenty-six

Peg had
taken control of his every waking
and
sleeping hour.
 
As she laid out their
schedule over breakfast on Sunday morning, he struggled with the desire to
crawl back into bed, alone.
 
Against his
protests, she had insisted there was no risk in sharing his bed at least until
his mother and Patrick returned.
 
They
had stayed up until the wee hours, alternately talking and making love.
 
Curled at his side, she had tortured him with
relentless caresses while they talked books, art, music and the world in
general.
 
Peg, it turned out, planned to
pursue a degree in humanities, with a focus on art history.
 
Her education into the world of finance would
come directly from her father.
 
For the
next four years, in addition to her courses at Columbia, she would apprentice
at the bank as well as learn every aspect of managing a philanthropic trust.
 

“It
must be nice to know precisely how you’re going to be spending your time.
 
My years at Oxford were a series of stumbles and
bumbles until I finally found my stride.”

“When
was that?”
 

“The
year after you were in Ireland, as a matter of fact.
 
I was desperate to focus on something other than wondering what was
happening to you, and I finally found a little ambition.”

“That’s
so sweet.
 
I wish I’d known you were
thinking about me.
 
I daydreamed about
you constantly.
 
Then when I found out
you were really coming to New York, I almost panicked.”

“Good
heavens, why?
 
I thought we hit it off from the moment we
met, despite the obvious differences.”

“Yes, but
I’m not fifteen anymore, and I was afraid you wouldn’t like me as much
now.
 
Maeve made you sound so
stuffy.
 
Agnes did say you were
just a
gentlemen, but Maeve said you weren’t much fun at
all.
 
And I couldn’t put much stock in
what Agnes says.
 
She’s such an old maid
already.”

“See
here now.
 
Don’t be too hard on
Agnes.
 
She’s by far the nicer of the
two, and a very bright girl.
 
Agnes has
real substance.”

Peg sat
up, eying him incredulously.
 
“Are you
serious?”

“Quite.
 
Agnes and I have shared any number of
enlightening conversations in a quiet corner while Maeve played belle of the
ball.
 
There’s a certain charm in her
straightforwardness.
 
She’ll make a fine
teacher, I’m sure.”

“If
she doesn’t scare off her students.
 
Really, Kendall, you can’t be saying you find
her attractive?”

“Not
attractive,
no
.
 
Although it had occurred to me that you and Agnes bear a strong familial
resemblance.
 
The hair
and eyes.”
 
Peg gave an outraged
gasp.
 
"Oh, I know, those spectacles
of hers are ghastly, but behind them, her eyes are the same amazing sapphire
blue as yours, my pet.
 
I like
Agnes.
 
She’s the sort of woman who can
be counted on to bring a little common sense to the table.
 
Maeve, on the other hand, has very little
sense of any kind, I’m afraid.
 
If she
doesn’t find a good man to rein her in soon, I hate to think how she’ll end
up.”

Cuddling
against him again, Peg seemed to think over his assessment of her cousins.
 
“I suppose you know them better than I
do.
 
Funny, but I don’t feel much kinship
to any of them.
 
I know we’re all
related, but I don’t really think of them as family.
 
I wish I did know them better.
 
Then maybe I wouldn’t feel so alone.”

He held
her closer, stroking the soft skin at her waist.
 
“Do you feel alone?
 
I suppose I was hoping you had plenty of
friends who made up for the lack of family over here.
 
There’s no one on your mother’s side?”

“No.
 
At least not that I’ve ever known about.
 
No one’s really told me much about her
family.
 
But I think her parents must
have been dead before I was born.
 
I
don’t remember Grandmother Shannon.
 
Dad
took me to England when I was a baby, but she died before I was old enough to
know her.
 
It’s always just been the two
of us.
 
That always seemed like the
perfect arrangement until he got sick and I realized without him, there
wouldn’t be anybody, at least not anybody on this side of the world.
 
Or anybody I really knew.”

“But
you have Mrs. Leary and Adamson to rely on,” he offered lamely.

“Oh, I
know.
 
The thing that scares me most
is having
to deal with all the people at the bank, and even
at the foundation.
 
Dad’s always taught
me that if the time came, I’d have to be tough and not let them bully me.
 
In a few years, when I’ve learned a lot more
than I know now, maybe I could do that.
 
But now?
 
I’d be just
one girl against a whole boardroom full of lawyers and loan officers and
accountants.
 
My name may be Shannon, but
I doubt that would count for much.”
 
She
shuddered, closing her eyes against whatever image that brought to mind.

“Poor
darling.
 
Surely your father has appointed someone to
help you manage all that,
if
the need
arose.
 
He can’t expect you to
singlehandedly take over what he’s spent a lifetime building.
 
Besides, what about a life
of your own?
 
You’re entitled to
more than just sitting behind a desk.
 
What about a husband and children?
 
And don’t tell me you’re never going to have those things.
 
You’re too young to make that decision just
yet.”

He
instantly regretted the statement when she stiffened in his arms.
 
“There’s no decision to make.
 
There’s no place in my life for any of
that.
 
My father’s always made that
clear.
 
Of course, he always said we’d
work together, and I hope to God we can.
 
He has to take better care of himself, that’s all.

He
would think about that for much of the night, holding Peg while she slept.
 
He was increasingly anxious at the thought of
leaving her, as though he had any other choice.
 
His only consolation was that Peg would be starting her grand adventure
as a college student and he could at least try to throw himself back into his
life.
 
In six months’ time, if not sooner,
they would each look back on this as less life-changing than it seemed
now.
 
If that sounded like false hope, he
chose to ignore the thought.
 
He also
chose to ignore the persistent suggestion, probably prompted by his ego, that
he might actually return, audition for Silverman and manage to have an honest,
open relationship with Peg, one involving more than occasional clandestine
meetings between the sheets.
 
He had
recklessly let things go too far.
 
Now he
would bear the guilt of what he might have done to this girl he loved.
 

Sometime
during the night he woke to an alarming realization.
 
Peg seemed convinced her father expected her
to dedicate her life to sustaining his empire, but Michael had all but bribed
Kendall to consider marrying her.
 
Not
that he could tell Peg that, and in the same breath admit that he’d refused the
offer.
 
Still, why would Michael give her
such an impression and then speak so offhandedly of her marrying, not for
money, but for love and security?
 
There
could be only one reason, as far as he could see.
 
Michael wanted to choose a husband for Peg,
and until he succeeded, he was content to let her think marriage was not in her
future.
 
Control, of his daughter and his
fortune, depended on her marrying a man hand-picked by Michael Shannon
himself.
 
Apparently he had decided Kendall
was that man.

He
spent the day with that thought never far from his mind, following Peg through
her Sunday routine of church, lunch at yet another fine restaurant, and an
afternoon concert at the home of some friends.
 
The performance, by an up-and-coming young pianist, seemed to bore
Peg.
 
She fidgeted in her seat and cast
longing looks in his direction, as though begging for an excuse to leave.
 
During the interval, when her father was
occupied at the buffet, she whispered, “If I say I have a headache, will you
offer to take me home in a cab?
 
Don’t
make a fuss, but I really don’t want to stay any longer.”

“I
suppose.
 
Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Fine.
 
There are just other things I’d rather be doing.”
 
With a subtle slump to her shoulders, she
started toward her father and Kendall followed obediently.

Michael
expressed suitable concern, but in the end agreed that the room was stuffy and
she might do well to go home and rest.
 
“See to her, will you Kendall?
 
I
may go to the Oak Room for supper.”

Typical,
he thought grudgingly as he stood by while Peg called a cab.
 
If she were actually ill, he wondered if
Michael would do more than make sure someone else was there to care for
her.
 
Once again, his mind went to the
possibility of returning to New York.
 
The sight of Peg, coming toward him with a smile in her eyes did nothing
to discourage that notion.

“You’re
sure you’re not ill?” he asked as they stood waiting for a cab.
 

“No,
of course not!
 
Although I was getting
pretty sick of Chopin.”
 
She made
a face, complete with scrunched nose, and Kendall laughed in relief.
 

“He was
giving it his all, you have to admit.
 
Maybe just a smidge less rocking over the keyboard and a tad more
attention to the notes.
 
So what
is it you would rather be doing this evening?”

“I was
hoping you might have some suggestions.”
 
Eyes glittering, she ducked into the cab as he held the door.
 

“Ah.
 
Well, let’s see.
 
I’ve seen most of the major attractions, have
I not?
 
Although I have
yet to make it to the top of the Empire State Building.
 
Not that I’m all that fond of heights.”
 
He straightened his jacket and pretended to
brush lint from his shoulder.
 

Peg
slapped him lightly on the thigh.
 
“You
know very well that’s not what I meant.
 
It’s less than twenty-four hours before your mother gets back.
 
And I’m betting you’re not going to let her
know what’s been going on between us.
 
I
want to make the most of the time we have left.”

“By
make the
most.
. .you’re surely not suggesting. .
.?”
 
He withheld a grin at her obvious
impatience.

“I’m
not
suggesting
, Kendall,” she said
through clenched teeth.
 

He
chuckled, laying a hand over hers and pressing it into his thigh.
 
“I see.
 
Shouldn’t we at least wait until we get home, or would you like for me
to make unsuitable advances right here in the back of the taxi?”

“Oh,
no!
 
Today I’m in control.
 
Unsuitable doesn’t even begin to describe. .
.”
 
Before she could go further, he
grasped her chin, capturing the last of her words in a deep kiss.
 

“Just
hold that thought, love.
 
I can wait for
the details.”

“My
room this time.”

“Really?
 
Is that wise?”

“There’s
no one home.
 
And even if they were,
they’d never check on me.
 
I left a note
for Mrs. Leary that I’m resting and will want a light supper later.
 
Dad will be out, probably until late.
 
When he goes to the Oak Room, it’s because he
knows some of his cronies will be there.”