Waking Up To Love (Lakeside Porches Book 4) (31 page)

“I wonder if Kyle’s at the hospital with his mum,” Karin said.

“Probably.” Tommy lifted Lyssa’s bag from the back and kept his arm around her shoulders as they walked up the broad steps to the front entry. “She’s had fever all along, and he’s barely left her side.”

Lyssa shuddered. “Poor thing.”

“But they’re expecting us, Tommy?” Karin tried the door, and it opened.

“They’ve no Christmas tree,” Lyssa said. “Moira loves a tree. The more ornaments the better. It’s very bad, isn’t it?”

“No use fretting, luv,” Tommy said. “Fiona’s orders are to come straight to the kitchen for a snack. Lyssa’s old room is made up for Karin and me. Lyssa will be in Kyle’s room unless she prefers the guest room across from ours.”

“I should be with him at the hospital.”

“He wants you here when he comes home tonight. He said he’d give us time to get here and get settled before he makes the drive from Truro.”

“How did he sound, Tommy?”

“Exhausted. Very worried they’ll lose her. I’d say the only thing keeping him going is that you’re arriving tonight.”

Lyssa covered her mouth with her hand. Through her tears, she spied Fiona bustling toward them from the kitchen, her ample body wrapped in a flannel robe.

“Ach, we thought we’d never set eyes on ye again, Miss.”

“Fiona, thank you for being here for us.”

Fiona murmured words of comfort as she shepherded the three guests toward her warm, welcoming kitchen. “Hot chocolate’s heating, and there’s biscuits and sandwiches for ye. Tommy will want some of that brandy in Mr. Kyle’s library, I suppose.”

Although Lyssa had devoured a bowl of stew at their pub stop a few hours before, she picked up a sandwich and took a big bite. “You’re an angel, Fiona,” she muttered around the mouthful of good Kerry cheddar.

“We need some angels tonight, Miss. Mr. Kyle will be glad for your coming. I expect he’ll come straight to the library for a brandy, if ye want to wait up for him.

Lyssa nodded. “I’ll take my things up first. I need a shower and fresh clothes and some serious time with a toothbrush. And God knows, a hairbrush.”

Kyle dragged his weary body up the granite steps to his ancestral home. A chill wind preceded him into the hall, and he closed the door firmly behind him to block any more of it.

The scent of roses and lily of the valley tickled his nose, and he inhaled it deeply.
She’s here
. There was no sound of anyone stirring. His gaze swept up the stairway to the second floor landing, but faint music from the library kept him in place.

A smile softened the tension in his face. He kicked out of his loafers and padded to the door of the library, closed tight against drafts. The polished knob squeaked as he turned it, and the hinges creaked, but not enough to wake her.

She’d wrapped herself in a throw she’d brought down from the foot of his bed and was curled at the end of the settee closest to the fireplace. The flames had long since died, but embers glowed like cats’ eyes in the jumble of ash and char.

On tiptoe, he crossed the room and squatted at her side. One errant copper curl lay against her creamy cheek. The rest were held off her face by a brown-and-pink print silk scarf. No, not a scarf, it was one of his neckties. His chuckle woke her, and her eyelids fluttered.

“You are the most beautiful, cheeky woman I’ve ever found in my library, wearing my necktie round her head.”

Her hands and arms emerged from the blanket and reached around his shoulders in a tender hug. “Cheeky, am I?” The breath from her giggle tickled his ear.

“I need you here, my love.” His mouth on hers stoppered whatever reply she might have made. He savored the mint on her tongue and teeth.

When he’d kissed her breathless, she wiggled into a sitting position. “I’ve been so worried about you and your mother,” she said.

He sat beside her on the settee and pulled her legs over his. “Mum was breathing more quietly when I left tonight. I think it’s a good sign.”

“What does the doctor say?”

“Her fever spiked twice, once this morning, once yesterday, which is when they decided to call me. Both times, we thought we would lose her, but she seems to want to recover.”

“Does she know you’re there?”

“Yes, and she smiled when I said you were coming to Pennington House.”

“Really?” Lyssa flushed and glanced at the fireplace. “The fire’s gone out.”

“Flames are finished, but those embers have been keeping you nice and warm. What say we go up to bed?”

“Don’t you want something to eat first? Fiona has sandwiches and biscuits for you.”

“I suppose I should.”

Her grin made his heart soar, and he teased her. “You’re hungry, too, aren’t you, luv?”

“I could use a ginger biscuit or two.” She stood and stretched.

The too-big sweater was a bilious green and barely covered her belly when she stretched. The blue jeans were skin tight all the way down to her bare ankles. “Tell me those are not your clothes,” he said as they crossed the foyer, heading to the kitchen.

“Karin got them for me. I had only the grungy clothes on my back and the dirty, wrinkled ones in my bag from the time in New York City.”

“I’d quite forgotten we were to meet at the opera. How was it?”

“Smashing, I’m sure. I was too worried about you to pay attention.”

He helped himself to two thick sandwiches while Lyssa nibbled on biscuits and sipped tea. “I was famished,” he said.

“You’re getting some color back in your face.”

“Did I look really ghastly when I woke you in the library?”

“Frightening,” she said and gave him a gentle smile.

He stood, drinking in the sight of her. He wanted her out of those horrible clothes, lying with him in his bed. “Let’s go up.”

She smoothed the hair from his brow with a gentle hand. The softness in her blue eyes let him know it was all right that he was rumpled and scruffy and dead on his feet. “Sounds heavenly,” she said, so quietly he wondered if he’d imagined it.

He found her in the morning room, leaning against the window frame, looking out at the boxwood hedges and mounds of cut-back roses. He wondered if this was her favorite room. He’d ask her one day, but for now he simply memorized the sight of her here. The curve of her hip, the sunlight on her copper hair.

Tiny icicles along the top of the window melted in the warmth of the sun. As he watched, Lyssa’s finger traced the path of a drop of water outside, down the window glass.

“Promises to be a fine day,” he said.

She turned with a smile and rushed into his arms. He buried his face in the smooth curve of her neck and inhaled her fragrance. “Stay here with me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

“Yes.”

He held her like a lifeline.

China rattled beside them, and the smell of coffee reached his nostrils. “Thank you, Fiona.”

He released Lyssa. Her faced flamed. He supposed his own did as well.

“Eggs and potatoes for ye both this morning?” Fiona said briskly.

“Yes, please,” he answered. “And have you any of your sticky buns?”

“They’re just coming out of the oven, Mr. Kyle.”

She was gone before he could thank her.

“I suppose we should wake Tommy and Karin,” he said.

“They were up and out an hour ago. Didn’t you hear them?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t hear a thing from the moment my head hit the pillow.” He poured coffee into two china cups, handed her one, and raised his. “Cheers.”

“Cheers. You look rested this morning. And thin.”

“I’ve skipped meals, I’m afraid. Fiona will fix that in short order.”

“What’s that, sir?” Fiona asked as she deposited two steaming plates on the table.

“Dr. Doughty says I need fattening up.”

Fiona answered with a hearty laugh. “Buns are cooling. I’ll bring them shortly.”

Lyssa sat in the Heppelwhite chair next to his and pointed to his plate. “Eat every bite of that before you pick up a sweet treat.”

“Cheeky
and
bossy. Just like Karin. I suppose it comes from those clothes you’re wearing.”

“Karin was an angel to shop for me.”

“Yes, but she got you all her own style, and they don’t suit you.” When she didn’t answer, he set down his fork. “I’m crabby, sorry.”

“I want to hear about your mum, but I want us to eat first. You really do need nourishment. Badly.”

He saw the worry in her eyes. And the compassion. That nearly undid him. He nodded and bent to his task. He’d finished the plate of food by the time the buns arrived.

“Another serving, sir?”

“Yes, actually. And juice or fruit if we have any.”

“Straightaway, sir.”

Lyssa smiled and went back to her eggs. “What’s making you crabby?”

“That she’s going to die.”

Her fork clattered on the plate.

“Perhaps not this go-round. In fact, the hospital says the fever is down this morning.”

“Good. That’s good.”

“Yes, it’s good. But I came to understand, as I held that fragile hand of hers, and listened to her raspy breaths, that she’s a frail old woman. I honestly think she’d rather be with Dad. But she’s not quite ready, for some reason.”

“She’s left something undone?”

“Yes.” He reached for a pastry and took a bite. A hot raisin burst in his mouth and cinnamon tickled his palate. “Incredible.”

Fiona arrived with another plateful of eggs and potatoes. “That’s grand, Fiona, thank you.” He smiled up at her and saw her puff up her chest and exchange a satisfied smile with Lyssa.
What secret are they sharing?
He narrowed his eyes at Lyssa, but she gave him a wide-eyed look of innocence and returned to her breakfast.

“What do you suppose she’s left undone? Your mum, that is.”

“Er, I know she’d like me married with a family.”

“Is that what you want?”

He sat back and studied her face. “You know it is, Lyssa.”

“We haven’t talked about children.”

“Do you want children?”

“I want lots of children.” She grinned, and he wondered what expression was written on his face. “At least one. The number is negotiable.”

“We should talk about that. Soon.”

A smile tugged at her mouth. He reached for her hand. “Sorry, I’ve sticky hands. Now you have, too.”

“The perfect excuse to pick up a sticky bun for myself.”

He pointed to the plate of still-hot buns, but she went back to her eggs.

“I don’t know what Mum can be worried about.”

“Perhaps she needs to know someone is doing her work.”

“What do you mean?”

“You said once that she used to make rounds, watch out for the women and children, see to their education and health care.”

“I’d quite forgotten.” He dropped his gaze. “What’s that you and Gianessa say? It’s not all about me?”

Her laugh was just like the songbirds at the berry bush.

“Help me to talk with Mum about her rounds, will you?” he asked.

She set down her fork and reached for his hands.

He held hers tight. “Home was such a happy place, I forgot they worked at it. I suppose I know most of Dad’s role. Enough to know I’m not attending to it as I should be. I’ve told you what little I know about what Mum did. You’re right. She’ll want to know that’s being taken care of.”

With a shuddering exhale, he let his tears fall.

Lyssa was out of her chair in a second. She gathered him to her, stroked his back, and murmured words of comfort.

“I can’t do this without you,” he told her.

Moira Pennington came home from the hospital two days later, weak but in good spirits. Padraig had arranged for a hospital bed in her room, and Fiona found a young woman in the town with medical training who would oversee her medications and personal hygiene.

Moira ordered, “No fussing!” and insisted on having a stack of favorite books at her bedside and a strong reading lamp within reach. “And we’ll put up a Christmas tree, will we? I’m sure Kyle and Lyssa will help with that.”

Padraig cut an evergreen for the entry, and Lyssa and he saw to the lights and ornaments.

Two days later, just as Kyle and Lyssa returned from a walk on the grounds, Moira summoned Lyssa to her chambers. Lyssa gave Kyle a nervous look.

He shrugged. “I’ll wait outside her door, shall I?”

She laughed. “I’m a big girl. How about at the top of the stairs?”

She raked back her curls and smoothed a few winkles from her blue cashmere turtleneck, the one Kyle had given her last Christmas. She’d worn it with jeans days ago on the plane from Rochester. Fiona had washed it and her other clothes so she could look more like herself most days.

She hadn’t gone halfway up the stairs when Kyle called to her. She glanced around.

“I love you, sweetheart. And Mum does, too.”

Her answering smile was radiant.

“My dear,” Moira greeted Lyssa, “your cheeks are flushed. It is windy today?”

“Not so much, but it’s cold. Padraig and I both saw little icicles again this morning. How are you feeling, Mum?”

“Comfortable, thank you. Come sit by me on the bed.”

When Lyssa had complied, Moira reached for her left hand. “I want to know your intentions toward my son.”

“Oh.” Lyssa started and nearly pulled her hand out of Moira’s fragile grip. “I . . . That is, Kyle and I are talking about marrying.”

“Are you just toying with him?”