Tall Poppies (30 page)

Meggie thrived. She'd trained the household to revolve about her needs. Livia kept her comfortable. Esmé kept her amused. Chad was the recipient of her feminine wiles. Connie chatted to her and patted her bottom every time she walked past. Now and again Meggie rewarded her, and Connie would exclaim in a high-pitched voice, ‘Has Connie's little darling done a naughty wee-wee then?'

So when a stranger with slightly familiar eyes peered over her cot, she first checked that one of her immediate family was present with a reassuring smile, before smiling back and cooing dribble at him.

‘She's a dainty little creature,' Denton said, and gazed around the room, with its lavender-sprigged wallpaper, lace curtains and painted wardrobe. ‘So this is where you sleep.'

‘It's a big enough room to accommodate the cot, as well as the bed. Having a washbasin in here is a bonus.'

Denton offered a finger to Meggie, who tried to pull it into her mouth.

‘Be careful, Meggie already has two teeth,' Livia said.

‘A most remarkable child indeed.'

Livia laughed. ‘Well, I think she's clever.'

‘Of course she is. Look who she picked to be her mother. Meggie looks just like you.' Denton took her hands in his. ‘And you're the loveliest woman I've yet to meet.'

‘How lovely one looks in an apron at eight a.m. is debatable.' She detached her hands from his and pushed her hair back from her forehead. ‘I was just about to wash and feed Meggie.'

‘I'm sorry I'm so early. I thought I'd take Dad's dog out and use it as an excuse to drop in on you.'

How tall and graceful Denton was. All she'd ever felt for him came flooding relentlessly back, like a high tide. ‘You don't need an excuse to visit me.'

‘How are you, my love?'

His voice was so tender and beguiling that her heart became a swirl of melting caramel. She didn't dare look at him, yet her eyes were drawn to the mossy green of his and her mouth was overwhelmed by an urge to be kissed.

He fulfilled that urge, lodging his thumb into the little notch under her chin and securing it with his forefinger on top. His lips tasted of cold January wind, and icicles that melted and sizzled against the heated surface of her mouth.

He gazed down at her afterwards through dark, quivering lashes, a tiny smile playing around his delicious mouth. ‘I've been longing to do that.'

‘You've only been here a few minutes.' Yet she now had a longing for him to do it again, and would crave another kiss like that forever more. ‘You shouldn't have, Denton.'

‘Of course I should have. Didn't you like it?'

‘You know I did, which is why you shouldn't have.'

‘I'm not going to have one of those cock-eyed explanations with a reverse conclusion from you, am I?' His nose twitched. ‘Does your daughter always smell like that? If so, remind me to stand upwind when she's around.'

‘Not always, but now and again.' Laughter bubbled from her, a reflection of the happiness she always felt when she was around this man.

Meggie grunted shamelessly, her red face indicating that she would shortly be due a comfort adjustment, as well as breakfast. Livia spread some towels on the bed and filled the basin with warm water. She laid the baby's clothes out and plucked Meggie from the cot. ‘I must see to her before she starts kicking up a fuss.'

‘She's more of a Sangster than a Sinclair.'

Livia didn't want to discuss the pros and cons of her baby's parentage. It was a road fraught with peril. ‘Would you pass over the baby powder please? I've left it on the window sill.'

‘You're busy. I'd better go.'

‘Nonsense, you've only just got here, and I want to hear all about what you've been up to.' The smell of bacon wafted up the stairs. ‘Can you stay for breakfast? The children have gone to the henhouse to collect the eggs; they'll be pleased to see you. Chad will want to show you his end-of-term report.'

‘I'll see you shortly then.'

She heard the children come clattering in, exclaiming excitedly when they saw Denton. They were a far cry from the withdrawn, unhappy children she'd brought home from the orphanage. For a fleeting moment she wondered what had happened to Billy, who'd joined them on their eighth birthday, and Billy's younger brother, the one she'd hugged because he'd missed his mother. She couldn't remember his name.

She could have asked Chad, but he didn't like talking about the orphanage. His aim was to put it behind him and make something of himself, so he could support his sister. He was pathetically eager to succeed, and she hoped he wouldn't be disappointed. When he was home there was an air of you-and-us about him, as he unconsciously resumed responsibility for Esmé. The age difference that existed between the twins and herself encouraged such thinking, and she knew she was regarded as more of a foster mother than a sister to them.

Esmé was turning into a practical, sensible girl – and one with a mind of her own now she was separated from Chad for much of the year. She didn't possess Chad's flair in her school results, but nevertheless, she worked steadily towards her goal and showed a definite improvement. Livia was proud that she'd been designated a place at the girls' grammar school, and despite the fact that they were twins, she doubted if Esmé would allow Chad to run her life as they grew older.

Meggie was washed and fed, then taken downstairs and laid in the pram. Reassured by the familiar sounds of the cottage, she played with her feet, making contented little noises until she fell asleep again.

Denton thanked Connie for the breakfast before turning to Livia. ‘Why don't you fetch your coat and walk with me for a while  . . . I'm going along the cliff top. It's my favourite place. I like the wind up there, it blows the cobwebs away.'

‘That's a long way to walk.'

‘I have the car.'

She laughed. ‘I thought you said you were out walking the dog.'

‘I am. It's just that the walking bit hasn't started yet.'

‘It will be a couple of hours before Meggie sleeps off her breakfast, so I'll keep an eye on her,' Connie said. ‘And before you children think you can use this as an excuse to get out of your chores, you can stay home and help me. You have your rooms to tidy while I put the baby napkins on to boil and rinse.'

The twins grinned at each other, exchanging a fleeting thought that Livia wasn't a party to. They could be disconcerting at times.

Livia had taken to wearing slacks around the cottage, mainly because they were warm and comfortable. Today she wore her favourite brown pair. Over them she wore a long-sleeved pink jumper in a lacy pattern, one that Connie had knitted for her. Pulling her coat over the top she was reaching for her scarf when Denton plucked it from her hands and arranged it around her neck.

His closeness was disconcerting, the small space between them a ferment of turbulence trying to absorb her into its pulse. How easy it would be to take that moment and make it hers, and in so doing, to close the space so they became one.

He was as instinctively aware of it as she was, the warm column of his body charged with the living energy of him. She sensed a moment when her heartbeat changed to match his – as if he'd captured it and made it his own, so they were marching in the same step.

‘There, is that comfortable?'

She daren't look up at him  . . . daren't absorb the woodland depths of his eyes and see the naked truth of what they held for her. Comfortable? There was nothing comfortable about Denton, though she hadn't realized it before. He was at one with the power of his maleness. He was playing the game to his own rules, and had been since they first met, and even while she was married to Richard. When she took a step back to widen the distance between them he gave a faint grin.

The drive took only a short time. They left the car on a bumpy road, climbed a stile and headed for the cliff.

Denton took her hand in his and refused to release it when she gave it a tug, lifting it to his mouth to drag his lips across her knuckles instead, then bearing it into his overcoat pocket to keep it warm. The dogs darted on ahead, following their own trails and scents and being brought back to heel with a whistle every time they wandered out of sight.

It was fifteen minutes before they reached the cliff top. A turbulent breeze whipped a salty smell into their nostrils and occasionally snatched the words from their mouths to carry them away across the sea – to whisper into the ears of sailors perhaps or to visit foreign lands.

‘You look far away; what are you thinking about?' he asked.

‘I was wondering where words stolen by the wind end up.'

‘You have seriously unusual wonderings. Let me think about that.' Denton considered it, his face grave.

Livia waited, while beneath them the waves pounded at the cliff base in a furious attempt at demolition.

Seagulls floated in the currents of air. At this point, the incoming waves collided with those outgoing in a thrash of spray thrown high, then they dragged back to comb noisily through the shingles. Clouds feathered upwards from the horizon like the wings of angels.

‘Well?' she said, dragging her mind from the excitement of the elemental power at their feet.

He bestowed on her a smile of great tenderness. ‘I have no idea.'

‘It took you all that time to come up with an answer like that?'

‘Sorry' He gave a glimmer of a smile. ‘I could tell you how to steal the words from someone's mouth in the first place, though.'

‘How?'

She shouldn't have asked, she realized, when he kissed her for the second time that day. It was an earth-shattering experience that left her trembling, and longing for more, so her mouth absorbed the soft caress of his and her lips parted just a little, encouraging him to continue in this madness of feeling.

When his lips slid across her face and kissed her ear she felt reckless. She wanted him too much, not just his mouth against hers but a long saturation of loving, of his strong body against hers, his hands and mouth making her long for more and more pleasure. She stayed in his arms afterwards, her face burrowed in his neck, her nose inhaling the piquant fragrance of his shaving soap.

No  . . . he mustn't be allowed to say he loved her. She mustn't allow herself to weaken. With the greatest of effort, she placed her hands against his chest and gently pushed. He stood firm, as though her resistance was a mere puff of wind against a dandelion clock. His hands closed over hers.

Tears prickled against her eyelids and rolled down her cheeks. Taking a folded handkerchief from his pocket he collected her spilled tears. ‘Why are you crying, my love? Don't you like me?'

‘Like' was too mild a word for the feelings churning inside her and she scorned, ‘Of course I like you. Can't we just remain friends?'

He scrutinized her face then sighed. ‘We can try. Would you give a friend a hug.'

She nodded and moved back into his arms again. Placing one hand against her back, the other behind her head, he cradled her against him. It was nice being held that way, her face pillowed on his shoulder, his breath warming her scalp and her mouth a heartbeat away from his chin, so she could kiss it, or nip it if she was of a mind to. She felt cherished, and her arms slipped round him. Denton was so dependable, so honest and so warm, and so  . . . so  . . . She felt the change in him and in herself. Lor, he was
dangerous
! She blushed and slipped from the circle of his arms, no longer feeling safe.

He smiled at her with great charm and the shrug he gave her was wry. ‘I can't quite picture us as friends only, can you?'

Denton was more conventional than Richard had been. If he learned who'd fathered Meggie he probably wouldn't want her. Yet she couldn't deceive him, at least not for long. Neither could she tell him the truth – for Meggie's sake as well as her own. Already there was conjecture about the baby's birth date, and she'd die rather than hurt her sweet, innocent daughter in any way.

‘I must get back, Denton.'

‘What are you scared of?' he said. ‘Every time we get close you push me away.'

‘It's too soon to think about  . . . anyone else.'

‘You're hiding behind Richard. He wouldn't have wanted you to mourn for him indefinitely.'

‘I know he wouldn't. You don't understand, Denton. There's talk, and I don't want to encourage it, especially since Richard is no longer here to defend himself.'

‘There's always talk.' He gazed at her, his eyes giving an impression of knowing more than they offered when he took an unexpected and disconcerting stab at her. ‘There's often speculation about a premature baby, especially when it arrives early in a marriage. Take no notice of it.'

She felt nothing but relief. At least Denton hadn't heard the rest of it.

Then he said, ‘But if you're referring to our relationship, that's another matter all together.'

Her relief had been short-lived. ‘What relationship? We've been friends, that's all.'

‘You can hedge around it all you like, but what we feel towards each other is more than friendship. Friends don't look at each other the way we do, with such a need for intimacy. Richard knew there was more than friendship between us. He was aware that I loved you. He wasn't the type to muscle in on a serious relationship without good reason, but rather, he'd have kept you safe until the way was clear for me. Your marriage came as a great shock and I can only wonder why Richard took the action he did, and why you went along with it.'

Richard had married her to save her reputation, knowing she'd soon be widowed. But in the process something had happened that neither of them had predicted. Richard had fallen in love with her.

‘I loved Richard. He was a caring and kind man and we enjoyed each other's company. I miss him, Denton. He was always there for me. Don't probe any further than that, please.'