Unknown (20 page)

Prentice loved her. It was in the green eyes that glowed with the brilliance of the sea with the sun on it. It was in the generous mouth that curved into a welcoming smile, and in the hand stretched out to grasp her own. Most of all, it was in his body that seemed to be swaying towards her, mutely answering her own delight at the sight of him. Dani wanted to put her arms around his neck and hug him, but when she reached the bottom of the stairs she knew that it was not the time or the place.

'Dani.' He took her hand. 'Happy Christmas.'

'Happy Christmas, Prentice.' She allowed herself to be drawn towards him and felt the soft touch of his lips on each of her cheeks in a formal gesture, made intimate by the way a third kiss was laid lightly at the corner of her mouth.

Prentice drew her towards the double doors that led into the principal reception room, and as they stood on the threshold, Dani felt her eyes widen in disbelief as her gaze flickered around it. She acknowledged Marina and Harry and her parents who were staying with them over Christmas, the Vicar and his wife and other people she knew, but it was the room itself that had thrown her off balance. Prentice led her towards a huge log fire that crackled cheerfully in the big, fully restored fireplace, and she gathered her scattered wits enough to speak.

'Prentice—when did you do all this?'

'All what?' He leaned his elbow on the high mantel and grinned at her.

'The last time I saw this room, there was nothing in it!'

'I waved a magic wand.'

'I can't think of another explanation. It's beautiful.'

A thick, cream-coloured carpet covered the floor, and the furniture was a happy mix of old pieces and comfortable chairs. Shades of cream and brown with splashes of orange had transformed the room into a quiet, restful harmony of colour, and the Christmas tree that took up one corner of the room and reached from floor to ceiling added another splash of brightness that echoed the red of the flames of the fire.

'Do you like it?' Prentice glanced around him and Dani thought she detected a hint of smugness in his voice. 'I could hardly have a party without any furniture.'

'I don't understand how you did it all so quickly.'

'My son is inexcusably slow over some things,' Mac's deep voice said at her elbow. 'But when he does decide to do something, it's extremely tiring trying to keep up with him.'

'Did I wear you out, Dad?' Prentice's eyes were alight with amusement.

'I'm not all that old, boy.' Mac patted his son's back and turned away.

Dani accepted a glass of punch but was afraid to drink it. She felt light-headed already, unable to concentrate on the conversation of the people around her, and aware only of Prentice's arm casually yet possessively around her waist, and of his presence at her side. He seemed relaxed and friendly as he talked to the people around him, but somehow she knew that he was as vitally aware of her as she was of him.

Now that she had grown more used to seeing the room furnished, she began to notice the small things; the shaded lamps that had replaced the old central lights and gave the room a glow of welcoming warmth, the big, gleaming coal scuttle that was now a home for green plants, and the pictures on the wall. Yet the Christmas tree drew her eye again and again. She had never seen such a beautiful giant, and the angel that was perched right at the top had a golden horn which caught the reflection of the lights and seemed to flash with fire.

'I'd like to show you something.' He murmured the words in her ear and when she turned her head to look at him, she saw that her own slowly growing excitement was matched in the depth of his eyes. 'Will you come with me?'

'Of course.' To the ends of the earth, if necessary. She put down her glass and walked with him to the door of the room, aware that eyes followed their progress and that Prentice's arm still encircled her waist, giving her the confidence to know that she was being watched and yet not to feel nervous.

They crossed the hall, and now Dani noticed for the first time the old Indian rugs that covered it as Prentice led her into what would be the music room, but which was currently Emma Rowett's classroom. Propped against the wall on one of the desks lay a covered canvas.

'What's that?' She nodded towards it. 'It isn't. . .'

'No, it is not!' Prentice left her and walked over to the picture. 'Stay there, will you?' One flick of his wrist removed the cover and Dani looked at her own face and blinked. She had not realised that Brian's portrait of her was finished.

'Oh,' she said weakly.

'Early Christmas present from my brother.' Prentice was smiling, but his eyes watched her intently. 'Do you like it?'

'Well. . .' Dani did not know what to say. The likeness was there, but how could she be constructive about her own face? Were her features really so delicate and did her hair really heighten the air of fragility that the artist seemed to have bestowed on her?

'Brian doesn't think it's very good.' Prentice left the picture and came to stand at her side. 'He told me to tell you that he'd like to paint you again . . . now that you're in love. Are you in love, Dani?'

'Prentice, please!' She murmured the words and did not dare to look at him.

'I asked you a question.' He was not touching her, but his tension vibrated between them like a plucked bowstring. 'This isn't a game, my Dani. I need to know. I love you. Do you love me?'

His anxious face twisted her heart. 'Yes,' she told him, 'I do.' Her voice wobbled a little. 'Oh, Prentice, I love you so much!'

'I wasn't sure.' Suddenly the man was vulnerable, showing her his uncertainty. 'Dani—my love . . .'

He turned, his arms reaching out for her and Dani, seeing the truth of his words in his brilliant eyes, murmured incoherently and closed the tiny gap between
them, to be held strongly and safely in his embrace. Prentice laid his cheek against hers and his whispered words brought her own arms around his neck in helpless wonder that at last she was where she wanted to be.

'Love you—love you—sweetheart.' His grip tightened for a moment, almost crushing her, and then eased again so that she was held tenderly. 'I love you so damn much!'

'Yes,' she whispered. 'You've said so before. Why did you run away?'

'Didn't run—I walked.' His chuckle was a mixture of ruefulness and happy delight. 'I'm sorry, love.' He hugged her against him for a moment. 'I can explain.' Lightly his lips brushed hers, retreating even as she responded blindly to the caress. 'Look—' his voice sounded suddenly shaky. 'If I start kissing you now, I don't think I'm going to be able to stop. And there are some things I should tell you. Shall we sit down?'

'Here?' Was her life to be decided for her in a classroom?

'It seems appropriate.' He grinned suddenly, a mercurial change of mood that she found disconcerting. 'Just a minute . . .' He pushed the teacher's table against the wall and perched on it, dusting the top with his hand.'. . . come on.' His outstretched hand invited her to join him and she shook her head at his wish to talk to her in a deserted classroom and obediently sat on the desk next to him, relaxing into his embrace as his arm encircled her shoulders.

'You know, Dani,' Prentice began quietly, almost shyly, 'whenever someone says your name, one picture always comes into my mind. You remember the day of the fete?' His fingers trailed lazy circles on her shoulder. 'Well, after that first puppet show, I went to get you a
drink and when I came back you were sitting under the tree with the children around you. Remember?' Dani nodded.

'It was one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen. You in that pretty dress—don't ever throw it away, will you?—with that ridiculous baseball cap perched on the back of your head and your face all sunny and laughing. And that child in your lap as if he belonged there.' Dani felt him kiss the side of her head. 'You looked so young and happy with your skirt spread around you and the sun in your hair that I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. And then that kid said Mrs, Robertson—and I just curled up inside and died. I thought I'd met you too late.'

'You had.' Dani thought of Keith and impulsively reached out for his free hand to hold it tightly.

'Yes, in one sense I had,' he admitted, and the fingers she was holding twisted and clasped her own, 'Hearing that you were divorced somehow made it all worse. You were legally free, but my own prejudice wouldn't accept that fact.'

'I know.'

'Of course you do.' He raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them. 'Well, I talked to my Dad and he told me a lot of things I didn't know,' Prentice laughed unwillingly, 'and a few things I did. Including the fact that I'd be a fool to let you go.'

'I must remember to thank him.' Dani stroked her thumb over Prentice's tanned one and waited patiently, knowing that he wanted to explain all of it to her.

'He made me see that it was as much his fault as my mother's that their marriage hadn't worked. He told me that she had wanted me with her, but that he had refused.'

'You don't have to tell me all this,' Dani murmured.

'Some of it can keep,' he admitted, and in the circle of his arms that now enclosed her, Dani closed her eyes and drifted happily on a cresting wave of contentment, knowing that she would willingly stay as she was and listen to him talking for the whole night, if that was what he wanted. 'But there's one thing
I
want you to know.' His voice became suddenly urgent. 'I told you I loved you
before
my talk with Dad. Do you understand? It's important.'

Yes, Dani did understand and she nodded, feeling his cheek rub against her hair as she settled more closely against him, loving the way he was laying down his thoughts and actions before her like an intricately woven carpet.

'You'd already turned me down that night,' he said softly. 'I didn't expect anything else. I wanted it all to happen this evening so that I could show you that everything I do is for you, and you alone. I wanted this Christmas Eve to be . . . very special.'

'It is,' Dani whispered.

'I want to show you something else.' He released her and slid off the table, turning to help her stand and then enfolding her gently into his arms again. 'My sweet Dani,' he whispered, and he rocked her as if she was a child. 'Why didn't you go to bed with me that first time I asked you to? Didn't you love me then?'

'Yes, I loved you,' she answered honestly. 'I didn't think you loved me. And I thought it was some kind of trap.'

'It was.' His lips touched her ear and then the side of her neck. 'I was trying to make
you fit the image I had of a divorced woman. Someone who would pose in the nude for an artist. . .'

'There's nothing wrong with that!'

'Shh! Don't let's argue. You're right and I was wrong. But if you ever try it, I'll kill you.' His soft tones made a mockery out of the threat. Dani hugged him tighter. 'I want to make up for all the times you got hurt. Will you let me do that?'

'Yes.'

'I got caught out that night,' he continued reflectively. 'That first time I set out to prove you were what I thought you were, but after that damn fire it was different. I wanted you in a different way then. I wanted to protect you . . . hold you safe . . . Dani, you could have been killed!'

'Hush!' Dani reached upwards to turn his face to hers. 'Hush, love.' She tilted her head to invite his kiss, and his mouth took hers hungrily, causing a sweet ache inside her that was only partly assuaged by the way his hands roamed over her back with a beautiful, possessive tenderness.

'Dani-girl . . .'. He broke away, and he was breathing deeply as she opened her eyes reluctantly and gazed into his face.'. . . you drive me crazy!'

'I know.' She raised dreamy eyes to his and saw the passion there.

'Damn!' He made an obvious effort to relax, and laughed when he saw her eyebrows raised. 'Sorry,' he apologised. 'I just can't think straight at the moment. Come upstairs.'

Hand in hand they left the classroom and slowly ascended the wide staircase. Dani let her hand run up the banister rail and enjoyed the smooth feel of the wood as she wondered happily what lay in store for her next. She allowed him to guide her along the gallery and into a big, airy room that was painted in a pale ivory colour but which was otherwise totally bare.

'This is the main bedroom.' He closed the door behind them and slipped his arm around her shoulders to take her closer to the window. 'It gets the sun in the morning and it looks out over the lawns.'

'So it does.' Dani could see the frost on the cedar tree winking in the lights from the house. 'It's lovely.'

'It could be,' he agreed. 'Dani, I gave up the idea of turning this place into a country club some time ago. I want this to be my home, and I want you to live here with me. I want to wake up every morning in this room and see your face.'

Suddenly Dani wanted to cry. It was said so quietly yet so passionately that she had this strange, irrational desire to turn her face into his shirt and weep. He was right, it would be the most wonderful moment of each day to wake up every morning in his arms. Yet one niggling thought remained.

'Don't you still have some doubts?' She moved away from him to stand closer to the window, staring out at the frost-covered grass and at the tree that winked and blinked at her. Would she ever stand at this window as Prentice McCulloch's wife? He sounded so sure of himself, but the dream had been with her for a long time and the reality was still a fragile bubble that she did not dare to touch.

'Not any more.' He came up behind her, slid his arms around her waist and drew her back gently against him. 'I did have . . . mostly about my own jealousy and temper. But then I saw you yesterday, when you were coming out of the grocer's shop. You didn't see me, did you? You had a huge basket of shopping in one hand and some kind of
plant in the other and you stopped to talk to someone. Do you remember?'

'Yes.' Dani wondered where this was all leading.

'Well, I knew then that I wanted to see you shopping for us.' He laughed softly and then bent his head so that his cheek could rest against hers. 'Isn't that the oddest thing to think of? I wouldn't have rated domesticity very highly in my reasons for wanting to marry anyone, but there I was, wishing that the bottle of wine I could see was for us to share that evening, and that the plant was just what you wanted for the ledge in the kitchen. I can put the past in its place now, love. It doesn't matter any more. But I want a future that belongs to you and me and no one else. Will you marry me, Dani?'