Ah, but he did, if he wanted to marry the man’s daughter.
But her statement made it clear she wasn’t thinking of marrying
him
--even after their soul-wrenching lovemaking. Her indifference dismayed him. He had her tonight, but he wanted her forever. How long would she want him?
“Come here, David,” she said, wrapping her arms around him. “You look so worried. Forget about my father.”
“It is not so simple--”
“Then let me make it simple.” She dug her fingers into his hair and pulled him toward her, taking his mouth in a ravaging kiss. Her tongue captivated him, and the press of her body against his enthralled him.
In short, her tactics worked. With her sensuality engulfing his whole being, he cared not one whit about her father--nor anything else but her.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Something woke Leah up--a rapping sound of some sort. Blinking against the sunlight, she focused on David, still asleep beside her. She smiled and snuggled closer to him, forgetting the noise. He was
here
--in her bed. She knew it must be late, but she let her eyelids close. There was no reason to get up . . . ever.
Someone tapped at the door--again, she realized.
“Miss Cantrell?” a hoarse whisper penetrated the cracks. “I’m terribly sorry, Miss. Are you awake?”
“Yes,” she whispered back, lifting her head. Lady Isabella had probably sent a servant to get her lazy guests out of bed. But whoever it was had asked for her and not David. She wondered why. “Just a minute.”
She tried to slip out of bed without disturbing David, but he felt her movement and stirred. He squinted in the sun, his hair stark black against the pillowcase. Sleeping had erased any remnant of his frequent frown. He looked around the room, probably trying to remember where he was.
“Go back to sleep,” she murmured, smiling. She’d never seen him look so vulnerable and felt a tug of love so unrestrained it scared her. What would she do if the past took him back? Maybe if he simply avoided the spring . . . but she didn’t know whether he’d want to avoid it. If he wanted to return to the past, could she convince him to stay? Or could she go back with him? She thought she would, if it was the only way to be with him.
A tap sounded again. “Miss Cantrell?”
“I’m coming.” She leaned over and kissed the little black bristles that grazed his cheek. His skin felt hot on her lips, and he smelled familiar and comforting. He watched with a sleepy smile as she put on his shirt and cracked open the door.
“Yes?” she asked a uniformed maid who fidgeted in the hall.
The freckle-dusted young redhead wrung her hands. “Terribly sorry to wake you, miss, but your father’s on the telephone.”
“My father?” She jerked the door open wider.
“Yes, miss. The housekeeper told him you were still in bed, but he’s quite insistent on speaking to you.”
A sick lump rose in her throat. “Did he . . . did he say why he’s calling?”
The maid shook her head. “I don’t believe so, miss, but the matter seems urgent. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have disturbed you.” Her stomach lurched at the thought of several possible disasters at home--then she remembered Jeanine’s threat to call her parents. Of course. Jeanine had talked to her father. How else would he have known to call her at Solebury House?
She looked back to see if David had been following the conversation. He’d propped himself up on his elbows, the familiar frown restored to his face. She guessed her own expression looked similar.
“Don’t worry,” she said to him. “I have a good idea what this is about. I’ll be right back.”
She pulled his shirt more tightly around her and ducked into the hall, closing the door behind her. The maid led her to a nearby alcove furnished with a chair, table and phone. The girl scurried away as Leah picked up the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Leah!” her father’s voice boomed across the Atlantic. “What the hell’s going on over there?”
She rolled her eyes and cleared her sleep-clouded vocal chords. “Why, I’m having a wonderful time, Daddy. What a surprise to hear from you. I guess Jeanine must have told you where to reach me. Did she tell you I’m enjoying England so much I’ve decided to spend my whole vacation here?”
Maybe my whole life, she thought.
“Enjoying England! Is that how you describe this stunt of yours? From what Jeanine says, England’s enjoying you--or at least one English punk is.”
“Punk?” Despite her tension, she giggled. Her father apparently pictured her with one of the mohawked fashion plates that had haunted Piccadilly Circus in the eighties. “So you’re convinced I’m dating Sid Vicious?”
“Very funny, Leah, but you’re not
dating
anyone. You’re acting like a lovesick teenager, clinging onto the first idiot who pays any attention to you.” Her father’s voice cracked. His anger must have run deeper than she’d expected. “Well, you better come to your senses fast, girl. What on earth are you thinking, staying behind in a foreign country all alone? Jeanine is worried sick about you!”
Her brief amusement faded, replaced by annoyance. “There’s no reason for Jeanine–or you–to worry. I’m not alone and, for a foreign country, England isn’t very foreign. In fact, London reminded a lot of Philly.”
“I don’t care what London reminded you of. You’re not even in London. You’re traipsing around the middle of . . . of wherever you are. I always knew you didn’t have much sense, but at least up till now you were never one for rebound romances. What a time to start! I can’t believe you trashed a whole vacation for some pasty-faced Englishman. Who is this jerk who has you making a fool of yourself?”
“I’m not making a fool of myself--and I’m not on the rebound, either.” Her grip tightened on the receiver. Her father had a knack for filling her with self-doubt, but this time she knew her own mind. “As a matter of fact, I’ve been making some of the smartest decisions of my life.”
“Wasting thousands of dollars worth of travel is smart? And shacking up with some fellow you just met?”
“I’m staying with his family, Dad.”
“As though you know them any better! Good God, Leah, they could all be ax murderers.”
She held back a humorless laugh. “I don’t think so. They’re an old family--a lot more respectable than any I know at home. They’re even titled.”
“So what does that mean--they’re rich? Is it their money that has you out of your senses?”
“All of my senses are intact.” She felt heat rising under the collar of David’s shirt. “Anyway, the Traymores don’t have money.”
“So you’re impressed by this title thing--or some other sort of English pomp. Whatever this new buddy of yours has, you’ll see it slip through your fingers quick enough. He doesn’t know you and can’t possibly care about you. He probably expected you to move on to Paris by now. Since you haven’t, he’ll get tired of you any day. Then you’ll come running home and subject your mother and me to a month’s worth of moping.”
Only a few weeks ago, his tirade would have leveled her. Now, she puffed up her chest, furious that he put no trust in her judgment. “I’ll tell you what, Dad: If I have a reason to mope, I’ll make sure I don’t bother you with it. And if I end up happier than ever before, maybe I’ll still leave you alone. Is two thousand miles far enough away for you?”
“You’re threatening to stay in England?” His voice shook. “Well, that plan’ll last about five minutes! Hold on. Someone else here wants to talk to you. He should have better luck getting through to you.”
“
He
? Not Mom?”
But her father had gone.
“Leah?” a familiar baritone asked.
Her stomach churned as soon as she recognized the voice. “I’m sorry, Kevin, but I’m not in the mood for this. Can we talk some other time?”
“Wait, babe, I need to know what’s going on with you.”
“I’m having a wonderful time, as the postcards always say--but, sorry, I don’t wish you were here.”
“Look, babe, I’ve really missed you since you left.” He had taken on his
sensitive
tone, the one that never quite sounded sincere to her. “Having an ocean between us has put a new perspective on things.”
“It sure has. But the fact remains that you broke off our relationship. Since I have no desire to rekindle those doused embers, we have nothing to talk about. Tell Dad not to bother wasting another one of his quarters.”
“Wait, Leah! When will I hear from you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll be in Philly in a few weeks. Maybe I’ll just send you a wedding invitation. Cheers!” She hung up the phone and took a deep breath, startled by the words that had tumbled out of her mouth. She’d implied she and David might be getting married. Might they?
The door to their room swung open, and he stood in the frame, nude from the waist up. Wisps of hair sprinkled his well muscled chest, dwindling as they arrowed down his torso. The faint trail lured her gaze downward, ending at the low-slung waist of his borrowed pants. If they’d been a size larger, they wouldn’t even have stayed up . . .
She grinned. For her part, she was ready to apply for the license.
“Why in creation are you smiling?” he asked, his own features forming a frown. “From your raised tones, I gather you and your father had a row. Is there a problem at home?”
“What does it matter? There isn’t one here.” She got up and slipped her arms around him, running her hands over the smooth, hard muscles of his back. “Did you sleep well?”
“Better than I should have done.” He glanced up and down the hall and steered her into the bedroom. “We had best come back inside. Between the two of us, we have scarcely enough clothing on for one.”
“Yet still too much,” she said, kicking the door shut behind them. She reached to unbutton his pants.
“Oh, Leah.” He grabbed her hand and pressed her palm flat against his belly. “Tell me why your father called.”
“Jeanine got him riled up.” She spread her fingers across his warm skin, rubbing her thumb over his firm abdominal muscles. They rippled at her touch, and she smiled. “I guess she told him I’d lost my head over a perfect stranger--
perfect
being the operative word.”
“Not for your father, I daresay. Naturally, he cannot approve of me.”
“I’m the one he doesn’t approve of. He doesn’t even know you.” She leaned forward to kiss his chest, but he caught her chin and forced her to meet his gaze.
“He knows your other suitor, though--the one who gave you the ring?”
She tilted her head to one side, surprised by the tightness in his tone. “Did you hear me talking to Kevin?”
“Is Kevin his name? And your father and he were together?”
She shrugged, letting her focus drop back to the scattered curls on his chest. “They probably called from work. They sell cars for the same dealer, both having a talent for . . . persuasion, to put it nicely.”
“Your father clearly favors this Kevin fellow.” He ran a hand through his hair. “How far has this gone, Leah? Have they spoken about a marriage settlement? Is that why you left the States?”
“Oh, David.” She grinned, gently pushing him backwards toward the bed. “We don’t have marriage settlements nowadays--not where I come from.”
He studied her eyes, evidently not convinced. “Leah, we must discuss this. Your father’s wishes have to be considered--”
“Right now,
my
wishes have to be considered. I insist on it.” She gave him a forceful hug that amounted to a tackle. They fell onto the mattress, and she kissed him hard until the furrows in his forehead softened.
His response turned hungry quickly, but she pulled back to look into his eyes. Brushing his hair away from his face, she said, “Unless you want to present a case for considering yours?”
He pulled her back to his mouth, apparently no longer interested in discussion.
* * * *
“So you managed to rise and shine in time for dinner,” Lady Isabella remarked as they entered the dining room hours later. She and the marquess had taken their places at one end of the table, but so far only the bread had been served. Her ladyship picked up a roll, poising it between thumb and forefinger. “Have you been tapping at the walls for hidden passages all day, or is the honeymoon too sweet to leave off?”
There was a new edge of hostility in the woman’s voice, and Leah glanced at David to see how he reacted. He looked down at the hardwood floor, his cheeks singed with red. She guessed Isabella’s implications embarrassed him too much to surprise him. He didn’t know enough about contemporary moral standards to realize he should be offended. She supposed she’d have to be the one to respond.
She took him by the arm and lifted her chin to look down at their hostess. “Judging by your tone, I take it we’ve outstayed our welcome. Well, we won’t impose on you any longer, my lady, your lordship. Thank you for your hospitality. Come on, David. Let’s get our things and go.”
“Nonsense!” the marquess exploded, very loudly for a man who looked so frail. “How could my boy outwear his welcome in his own house? And, my dear Miss Cantrell, your company is a pleasure. Isabella, what bee have you got in your bonnet? Why would you try to embarrass Davy and his young lady like this?”
Her ladyship pursed her lips, setting her roll back down on a chipped Wedgwood plate. “Jonathan, I’ve tried to explain to you that this young man is not your son--”
“I’ll hear no more of that talk!” Blotches of pink marred his normally pale complexion. “Now, you put an end to these unworthy insinuations.”
“Jon, please. I don’t want to upset you, but I--”
“Apologize now, Isabella!” The redness in his cheeks deepened, and Leah began to worry that he might have a stroke or a heart attack.
Lady Isabella must have had the same thought, because she swallowed and turned to her guests. “Pray pardon me. Won’t you have a seat? Please.”
All Leah wanted was to get out of there, but at the moment, calming the marquess seemed the most important thing. She and David looked at each other, and he stepped forward to pull out a vacant chair at Lord Solebury’s left. When he motioned for her to sit, she did, blinking away her reluctance. He took the seat next to her.