I'll Get By (29 page)

‘Several things, the most obvious being that nobody would believe it.’

‘I had no intention of showing it to anyone. I came in early to see if I could retrieve it. You don’t check the cabinet often.’

‘I see.’

Her anger rose to the surface. ‘No . . . you really don’t see, Nick. I don’t know why you did what you did, and I don’t really care, but my aunt reacted badly to it. Till the day she left for Dorset she was scared to go into the house in the dark – both of us were. She used to put a chair under the door handle when she went to bed at night. Neither of us liked being there alone after you invaded our privacy. She’s too nice a person to be treated like that, especially when she likes you so much. I knew you were duping her, which made it worse. The more I kept quiet about you, the more I felt like a conspirator.’

‘I know, and I feel ashamed. I tried to make it up to her, and to you. I don’t know why I did what I did, just boredom I guess. You haven’t told your aunt it was me, have you?’

‘No, the only reason being that I don’t want to disillusion her. She still thinks you’re a fine, upstanding young man, not the mercenary petty thief who rifled through her personal things just for the kick it gave him. And now you’re trying to blackmail me into going to bed with you, and using her missing husband as an excuse. Leo Thorton has more guts in his little toe than you have in your entire bloodline.’

‘You make me feel ashamed. I love you, you must know that,’ he said.

‘It’s not something worth having. You can keep your four-poster bed, your satin sheets and your damned charm, and whatever you imagine loving someone is.’ Well, for the time being anyway, she thought. ‘And you can keep your damned games. To hell with you.’

He sighed. ‘I’m not ready for hell yet, and now I’m suitably flagellated and contrite, will you please forgive me, since you know you’re going to? I’ll still make enquiries, and I’ll cancel the debt and give you my piece of gingerbread as a bribe.’

She was so relieved she could have hugged him to pieces. ‘Do you mean that?’

‘You have my word.’

‘Which is devious by any standard.’

He chuckled. ‘Be careful, Margaret, Eloise, Sinclair, Sangster Elliot . . . Meggie for short. I might have you charged with insubordination.’

He had a remarkable memory to remember all of her names in order, especially after all this time. The only time he’d heard them was the day they first met. He grinned when she scowled at him.

‘By the way, that was a good fight you put up in defence of your virginity, Meggie. Well done . . . though I still intend to claim it, one of these days, probably when you least expect it.’

Picking up the gingerbread she took a big bite out of it, then smiled at him. ‘Bargain,’ she said.

Meggie, on hands and knees, was polishing the linoleum on the hall floor when the postman arrived.

There was a scruffy-looking letter for Leo and Esmé that had been sent several months earlier from Fairfield Sheep Station in Australia, which Leo’s family owned. No wonder the envelope was scruffy. Australia was 13,000 miles away. Meggie couldn’t quite visualize that sort of distance.

The second letter was for her, dispatched from the legal firm that handled her legacy.

Slipping Esmé’s letter into her pocket she sat back on her heels and opened it.

‘Keep your sincerity, you stuffy bag of legal pomp and circumstance!’

Having insulted the composer Edward Elgar, as well as Rennie, she screwed the letter up and threw it at the wall.

Receiving this type of letter from someone she’d looked up to was humiliating. Meggie had no intention of going to the wedding – mainly because Rennie hadn’t advised her of the date, so she knew he didn’t really want her there. Secondly, she didn’t wish them well at all. She said loudly, ‘I hope it rains heavily on the day, and Pamela turns out to be a miserable nag of a wife. And I hope any babies you have are really, really, ugly.’ She conjured up a couple of grimacing creatures with big noses, elf-like ears and sharp, crooked teeth. Then she relented. It wouldn’t be their fault, and besides, she couldn’t do that to babies, which were so lovely and cuddly and sweet. Besides, Rennie would be a proud caring father to any children he had, even if they did look like garden gnomes.

Going into the kitchen she turned up the radio, then clumsily tap-danced back to the hall, where she sang out with Flanagan and Allen. ‘
Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run. Here comes the farmer with his gun, gun, gun . . .’

One good thing about getting in a temper, it gave you energy and added elbow grease to your arm, or so her mother’s cleaning lady had told her.

The drummer was all over the place and she frowned. She started to sing as she got down to polishing again. When she stopped to refold the polishing cloth a voice said softly, ‘Meggie.’

She looked around her and saw nothing but Jack Frost sitting on the stair watching her. ‘Brilliant . . . I can hear voices coming from a cat now.’

‘Here at the letterbox, you idiot.’

A pair of grey eyes gazed at her so she laughed and moved closer and gazed back at him. ‘Woof! Woof!’

‘I’m terrified. Didn’t you hear me knock at the door?’

‘Actually I thought it was Gene Krupa doing a drum solo.’ She needed a distraction after that letter. ‘What are you doing here, Nick?’

‘Teasing the guard dog I think. I’m beginning to feel like a peeping Tom.’

‘You have lovely eyes when you’re peeping.’

‘This letterbox is too low for comfort and I’m growing meaner by the minute. I’ve got something for you . . .’

‘I’m only bribable to a certain extent . . . what is it?’

‘Diamonds and emeralds.’

‘Not good enough. I’d settle for chocolate.’

‘Chocolate . . .? Perhaps.’

‘That’s better.’ When he slid through the door Xavier Cugat was playing ‘Amor’.

He held out his arms. ‘May I have this dance, miss?’

Laughing, she slid into them, her pelvis already doing some Latin moves to the beat of the music. He lifted her palm to her mouth and kissed it. ‘You smell like lavender polish.’

‘It’s the latest perfume for ladies who clean.’

He was a good dancer, and she was able to anticipate his moves easily. Xavier Cugat segued into a Glenn Miller dance tune and she was pulled closer to him. He said, ‘All right?’

Her eyes lifted to his. It was more than all right. His mouth was luscious. She was on fire for him. ‘Where’s my chocolate?’

‘I said chocolate
perhaps
. It turns out to be, perhaps not. Will you accept a kiss instead?’

Nick didn’t bother to wait for an answer, but just helped himself. His body was warm against hers and she could feel the result of his positioning nudging against her stomach as they danced.

‘Yum,’ he said when the kiss was over. ‘That was better than any chocolate I could name. Tell me, what were you rattled about when I arrived?’

‘I received a letter from my solicitor friend saying he was getting married.’

‘I’m sorry.’ He shrugged. ‘Cancel that. I’m really not sorry. I’m just sorry if he hurt your feelings.’

‘Oh, it’s nothing like that. It’s my pride that’s injured. I told you we’d decided to be friends, but it seems that his family thought it a bad idea. A pity really, because I like them, and I liked him.’

‘And now you don’t?’

‘Well, it does feel a bit like a stab in the back. It’s just that Rennie brought our friendship to an end by putting it in writing, as though I was an employee being sacked. So I got in a temper and called him a few names, none of which he deserves by the way. But while I was letting off steam like an engine driver’s stoker, I was also working my temper off in a flurry of productive activity, so the outcome was a lovely shining floor . . . until you interrupted.’

He pulled the turban from her head and threw it aside before ruffling her hair. ‘I do love your way of thinking, Meggie. It’s as curly as your hair.’

She became conscious of her apron and the old dress she usually did the housework in. She tried to straighten
the creases.

‘Stop fussing with yourself.’

The music changed again, becoming dreamy. Meggie was pulled a little closer. They seemed to be swaying on the spot and she imagined herself dancing, alone with him in a ballroom, expect for the orchestra. Her gown was a white misty drift of chiffon, sparkling with pearls. No! No! That was too bridal, and Nick was not the marrying kind, she thought. She changed the colour to midnight blue, with one strap covered in silver sequins. Crystals were scattered over a skirt that sparked moon gleams as they moved.

His mouth was a mere inch away from her. The skin of his face was smooth, giving off a slight fragrance of sandalwood. Moving slightly she tentatively kissed one corner of the quirky little smile he wore.

I love you, she thought in surprise, when he turned to gaze at her, but it was different to the way she’d loved Rennie . . . more savage and needful. Nick was a loner, but he put up a good front. He engaged her eyes until the music stopped, and then kissed her again, making her mouth pliable under his as he gently nibbled at her bottom lip.

The hall clock struck ten thirty, making her jump. This couldn’t be happening to her in the middle of the morning.

Nerves attacked her. She
did
love him, and that thought was just as unnerving as the first time she’d thought it, for he challenged her at every turn. ‘Rennie’s letter is somewhere on the floor if you want to read it. It’s awfully stuffy. He sounds almost middle-aged.’

‘Forget Rennie. He’s in the past. I’m glad he’s gone because it gives me a better chance with you. Can I take you to bed?’

She gave a nervous sort of laugh. ‘Just like that?’

‘It’s as good a time as any. Yes or no?’

She blushed. ‘Yes . . . I suppose you might think so.’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘But what makes you assume I want . . .’

A grin spread across his face. ‘You’re a healthy young woman. Of course you want to. You looked as though you were going to eat me when we were dancing. But such a chaste little kiss.’

‘You’re being conceited . . . but perhaps I did want to.’

‘Then why didn’t you encourage me?’

‘I didn’t know how. I only know I wanted to kiss that little bit of you at the side of your mouth.’

‘Now you get to kiss a bit more of me. Come on then. Let’s get it over with.’ He swept her up in her arms and headed for the stairs.

‘I look a mess.’

‘It doesn’t matter since I’m about to remove all your clothing and ravish you, after which you’ll be more of a mess.’

That one sentence left her already feeling naked. Her courage wobbled as she delved into a barrel of prissy excuses designed to keep him at bay. ‘My bed squeaks,’ she warned, almost breathless, something which was quickly followed by, ‘I forgot to patch the rip in the bedspread.’

He laughed. ‘You should have insisted on the four-poster and the satin sheets. It’s too late now.’

She didn’t bother to ask him how he knew which was her room. She already knew. Setting her on her feet he gazed down at her, and then removed her apron. When he’d finished he said, ‘Undo the buttons on my shirt.’

The wound on his arm had healed leaving a scar that resembled a smallpox vaccination. She gently touched it. The small scar would wrap them in secrecy and bind her to his thoughts until he was too old to think straight any more.

Opening her blouse Nick cupped her breasts. He smoothed his fingertips over the satin cups supporting them and teased her nipples. ‘That’s lovely,’ she said, and when he took one into his mouth and ran a hot, moist tongue over it her knees almost buckled and she gave a tiny cry.

There was a swift intake of breath from him. ‘You’re exquisite, Meggie.’

Easing the clothes from her he pushed her on the bed in a seated position and swiftly stepped out of his clothes. She closed her eyes. ‘You know, I feel awfully hot and bothered . . . and a bit shy.’

‘Damn it, Meggie,’ and his voice was full of laughter. ‘You’re allowed to feel shy and you’re allowed to look. My penis won’t bite you. As for feeling hot and bothered, you should be. Try being in my skin at the moment.’

When she opened her eyes she wasn’t so sure that she wanted to be. There it was, springing from a little nest of dark hair that arrowed up to his neat, aristocratic belly button. He was bigger than she’d expected.

Drum roll please. Where was Gene Krupa when she needed him?

Taking her hands he snugged his length inside them. ‘Caress me a little, but gently.’

His skin felt like silk stretched over the hard muscle. She explored him, feeling the change as his testicles hardened to her touch. She’d learned about this from her aunt’s lectures, and relaxed. She’d even practised rolling a condom on a stiff rubber penis that the midwives called Dangerous Dan. She’d become quite proficient at it. But this one was nothing like Dangerous Dan. It was wonderfully warm and alive. As she gained in confidence he grew even larger. She wondered how big he would get—