Wishes on the Wind (32 page)

    Sean stirred and Sheila whispered, ''No, Sean, please. Just a few minutes longer."

    Her plea halted Sean as he started to withdraw, and Sheila was alarmed at the frown that touched his brow when he looked down into her face. Aye, this new Sean, recently having become a man, was not the same boy of six who had won her loyalty forever, for there had been love and joy in that boy, and in the man there was none. And she knew that Sean would not be with her now had she not sacrificed her pride and gone to him. But she had come to terms with that thought when she decided, long ago, that it would be far better to lose her pride than to lose Sean.

    "We can't stay, Sheila. It's gettin' late and your Ma will be wonderin' why you're so delayed in returning from your visit with Meg."

    Aye, those visits that never were, and the loving in their stead as she and Sean lay hidden in the old mill… But she was not ashamed, for she'd do anything to keep him, and to save him if she could.

    In a moment Sean was separate from her, and her warm, damp flesh that had been covered by his only moments before chilled in the cool air. Shivering, Sheila drew herself to her feet and reached for her clothing, aware that Sean was already drawing on his trousers and would soon be ready to leave. She thought again, as she adjusted her undergarments, that the tragedy which all but destroyed the O'Connor clan had all but destroyed Sean as well, so dead was his heart.

    "Sheila…"

    Raising her head at Sean's whisper, Sheila strained to see his face in the semi-darkness illuminated only by the light of the lamp burning low beside them. Her heart raced at the shadow of love she thought she saw reflected in his eyes for a brief moment as he reached toward her and smoothed her fair hair back from her cheek. He said no more, and she took a step forward, encouraging him.

    "Aye, Sean?"

    "Are you happy… truly happy? Or do you suffer for these meetin's in the dark and on the sneak while you know your Ma and Da are trustin' you?"

    Her throat filling with the guilt that had blighted her days since she first gave in and gave all to Sean, Sheila raised her eyes to his. Frustration knotted inside her because she could not clearly see his face and read the meaning there as she responded. "And if my guilt turned all this bad, what would you do then, Sean?"

    Hesitating, Sean lifted a soft curl from her shoulder. Cradling it a moment in his hand, he then crushed it in a tight fist, releasing it a second later with a whisper that bore no trace of the fleeting emotion.

    "I'd leave you be, Sheila, for in truth, if you lost the joy of the moment here, there'd be little else for you at all."

    The candor of Sean's words was a knife that cut deep. Sheila responded a moment later with a question of her own.

    "What of you, Sean? Are you happy here and now when we're together?"

    "Aye. I couldn't ask for more."

    Sheila forced a smile with her whisper, "Then it's enough for me, too."

    Slipping her arms around him, she hugged Sean desperately close, her own words echoing in her heart. It would be enough, and she'd be patient for that which would follow if there'd be time for more.

    The exuberant music of the gavotte filled the brightly-lit manor, punctuated by shouts of laughter and the shuffle of dancing feet. Letty surveyed the scene with a hostess's critical eye. The hardwood floor of the reception room had been cleared for the celebration of Martin's and her twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, and young men and women, all beautifully dressed for the party, followed the dance pattern with flashing color and gaiety. Standing around the energetic group in an appreciative circle, her elder guests watched with smiles, sipping wine imported for the occasion and engaging in pleasant conversation.

    Glancing toward the buffet tables lining the far wall, Letty surveyed the magnificent culinary display she knew would tempt even the most particular palate and she inwardly swelled with pride at the splendor of the affair she had so meticulously orchestrated. Martin had not wished to spare any expense for the festivities, despite the uncertain state of affairs in the region, going so far as to insist she extend an invitation to overnight guests from the surrounding area.

    An emotional mist glittering in her pale eyes, Letty knew this was Martin's way of telling the world in general, and her in particular, that he loved her and was proud of all they had accomplished together. It was a sentiment they shared, and for that reason she had complied with her husband's wishes. She was certain the occasion would be the talk of the region when all was over and done.

    Her gaze moved assessingly around the room, and Letty adjusted the neckline of her fragile blue silk gown, grateful the autumn weather was pleasant enough so she might wear the delicate garment with true comfort. The exquisite length of perfectly matched pearls Martin had given her were warm against her neck, and she silently admitted that had the night been frigid as winter, she would have borne the chill just for the pleasure of displaying dear Martin's gift to its greatest advantage.

    Her hand unconsciously remaining at her shoulder, Letty suppressed a surprised gasp as she glanced toward the corner of the room. Grace was deep in conversation with young Travis Whitehead. Resplendent in creamy beige silk, her gleaming hair    piled atop her head in a style that added a becoming maturity to her appearance, her daughter was obviously a vision Travis could not ignore. And Grace, dear girl that she was, was flirting outrageously!

    Uncertain whether to applaud her daughter's recent emergence as a coquette, or whether to make haste to her side to distract young Whitehead before he expired from rapt and breathless appreciation, Letty hesitated a moment longer, only to hear Martin's amused whisper in her ear.

    "Don't look so worried, Letty. The girl's having the time of her life."

    "Do you really think so, dear?" Turning to her husband's pleased expression as she spoke, Letty could not help but silently remark how very handsome he looked in the crisp black and white of his formal attire. But she had always known her husband was a very attractive man.

    "Yes, I think we should be grateful Grace has finally awakened to the pleasantries of her sex. I confess, Letty. I was beginning to become concerned she'd never grow up."

    "Martin!"

    Laughing aloud, Martin squeezed his wife's arm gently, and Letty was about to respond further to his audacious remark when his expression abruptly changed. Following the direction of his gaze, Letty saw David standing alone beside the punch bowl, a cup in his hand. Almost princely in his evening dress, he wore the same dark expression that had chased both Abigail Hutton and her persistent sister, Beverly, from his side, as well as every other young woman who had attempted polite conversation with him that evening.

    Martin's tone became touched with annoyance. "Now if only your nephew would allow some of the gaiety of the occasion to touch him, I'd be content."

    "Oh, Martin, do you suppose he'll ever be the same happy, confident young man he used to be?"

    Letty belatedly realized the imprudence of her spontaneous remark as her husband turned to her with a frown. "You mean by that, of course, the young man he was before he met up with that O'Connor girl."

    "Martin, please!" Casting a glance around her to see if the vehemence of her husband's response had been noted by any of their guests, Letty drew him a cautious few steps toward the     nearest corner. "Surely you don't blame Meghan O'Connor for David's despondency of late."

    "Oh, don't I? The entire staff's gossiping about the rift between the little Irish witch and him these past three weeks, and he's not been fit to live with."

    "Martin!"

    "She's bewitched him, I tell you! And if you don't believe me, look at your handsome nephew now!"

    Turning, Letty looked again toward the corner where David stood, only to see his expression tighten as Meghan O'Connor crossed the room with her tray.

    Turning back to her husband, Letty felt the heat of tears warm her eyes. "He does look so unhappy."

    His anger suddenly dropping away, Martin mumbled an epithet and then whispered, "Letty, dear, I'm sorry."

    His expression penitent, Martin pressed a firm, unexpected kiss against her lips, and blinking, Letty felt a flush rise to her cheeks as she glanced self-consciously around her. She was relieved to see Martin's good humor return with a chuckle.

    "You still blush more beautifully than any woman I know, my dear, but I think our guests will forgive the indiscretion of my public display. I apologize again for allowing my foul humor to dampen your spirits even temporarily. And Letty," leaning closer, Martin whispered encouragingly, "don't worry about David. I promise you, it'll all be settled soon. Now smile for me, please. You're very lovely when you smile, you know."

    "Oh, Martin."

    Her cheeks flushing more hotly than before, Letty allowed her husband to draw her firmly against his side while she stole a last, worried glance toward her dear David, and so very distressingly shared his pain.

    His eyes following Meg as she moved smoothly around the room unobtrusively gathering discarded glasses and dishes, David felt frustration soar anew. Damn it all! How could she be so cold to him?

    His fingers stiff around the cup he had clutched for the past half hour, David raised it to his lips and forced himself to take a sip of punch. His stomach revolted against the sickeningly sweet taste, and the thought registered somewhere in the back of his mind that he had never liked punch, so why had he poured himself a cup in the first place? And then he remembered that it was something to occupy his hands while his mind was occupied with Meg. In the time since he had poured it, he had neither raised the cup to his lips nor taken his eyes off Meg. He knew he was acting like a fool, but somehow that realization had little effect on the ache deep inside him.

    He missed Meg. Three weeks had passed since she put an end to all association between them, and he had not had a decent moment since.

    Still following Meg with his gaze, David attempted to compare her to the other young women present. But there
was
no comparison. He had to concede that at first glance Meg appeared nothing more than a slight, dainty shadow in contrast to the elaborately dressed and coiffed female guests. In her dark uniform and with her stubborn curls confined as they were in a tight bun at the back of her neck, much of her individuality of appearance was stripped away. That was only true, however, until she looked up and her delicacy of feature and those incredible eyes became visible.

    
Oh, Meg…

    How had he let this happen between them? The passage of three weeks, and his review of the harsh words they exchanged, had not lessened his despair or sense of loss in the slightest degree. With a darkening frown, David acknowledged that nothing appeared to have changed on Meg's part, either, for she had not spared him a glance or a word in the time since.

    As for himself, his intense soul-searching had netted him only one thing; the realization that no matter the estrangement between them, Meg was still a part of him. He no longer felt whole without her, and despite everything that had happened, he could no more bear to abandon her to her circumstances than he could willingly sever a limb from his own body.

    But a new facet had been added to the fervor of his feelings for Meg. The remembered warmth of her slenderness against him, the taste of her mouth, and the desire to feel her yield her love completely to him had added a new dimension to his torment. Recalling his haughty disdain for the disheveled, ignorant young girl he had pulled out of a bush on the hillside that first day, David found himself bitterly amused that the situation should suddenly be so distinctly reversed that the disheveled young girl should have proved
him
a fool many times in underestimating her, and that it should be she, not he, who now held him helpless in those small, deceivingly strong hands.    Turning unexpectedly, Meg glanced up. Her gaze tangled briefly with his, and the shock of the contact unleashed a new raft of painful emotions to torment him.

    To his mind returned a silent plea.
Meg, tell me how I can reach you.

    Utilizing all the strength of will within her, Meg broke contact with David's intense stare and reached blindly for a glass abandoned nearby. The plea she had seen in his eyes echoed within her heart as her fingers closed around it, and it was one of the most difficult things she had ever done to place the glass on her tray beside the others and turn away. Carefully sidestepping a laughing couple, she walked directly to the kitchen and released a painfully tight breath as the door closed behind her.

    "So there you are! Quickly now, take these canapés out to the table. The mistress will be annoyed if the tray is allowed to empty any further."

    Temporarily unable to face David's trailing gaze, Meg ignored Cook's instructions and walked toward the staggering pile of dishes awaiting washing near the sink. She began unloading her tray.

    "Leave the tray there and do what I say!" Impatient, Cook addressed her more sharply than before as she nodded toward Johnny Law where he stood temporarily employed in kitchen duty, his hands immersed in dishwater up to the elbows. "Johnny will take care of that."