CATHERINE GEORGE – Sweet Surrender (страница 5)

‘Of course you haven’t,’ said Kate lightly. ‘I’ll just make that coffee.’

‘Can I help?’

‘No. Just sit down. You make my house look small.’

‘It is small. Doll-size, like its owner.’ He looked her up and down. ‘You haven’t grown since I saw you last, Kate.’

‘Not in inches. But in maturity just a little, I hope.’ Pleased with her exit line, she left him alone.

Alasdair shook his head when she came back with sugar and milk on the coffee tray. ‘I drink mine black, remember? You should do; you made it often enough for me at one time.’

‘I’d forgotten,’ said Kate, rather pleased to find this was the truth. At one time she’d tried so hard to forget everything about Alasdair Drummond, and in minor ways, at least, it seemed she’d succeeded.

Like her other visitor, Alasdair took the window seat, his endless legs stretched out in front of him as he looked round at the small room, which was given an illusion of space by an inglenook fireplace and Kate’s knack of keeping the curtains drawn back on the walls to expose the entire window.

‘Do you light that every day?’ he asked, indicating the log fire laid ready.

‘No. Only on winter weekends, when I have time to clear it up in the mornings afterwards.’ Kate perched on the edge of a chair she normally never used, hoping its bronze velvet looked good with her yellow sweater.

Alasdair drank some of his coffee, regarding her steadily over the rim of his mug. ‘The man I saw leaving just now—is he important, Kate?’

‘Yes,’ she said without hesitation. It wasn’t a total lie. Jack Spencer was important—to his niece, his mother, his sister, and probably to several more women besides. Maybe a wife, for all she knew. It wouldn’t hurt Alasdair to think he was important to Kate Dysart, too. ‘How about you, Alasdair? You must have someone important in your life?’

He shook his head. ‘Not any more. I shared an apartment with a lady until recently, but that’s over now.’

‘Why?’

‘I suppose you could say she dumped me. Amy liked her New York lifestyle too much to try life in the UK with me.’

Which was enlightening.

‘Too bad,’ said Kate coolly. ‘Where will you be based?’

‘Near enough to commute. For the time being, at least.’

‘Where from?’

‘Gloucester. My grandmother left the house to me.’ He finished his coffee and stood up. ‘I’ve held you up long enough.’

Kate went with him to the door. ‘Sorry about lunch.’

‘Maybe I’ll be luckier tomorrow.’ He gave her a wry, assessing look. ‘In fact, Miss Dysart, I’m likely to get a far warmer welcome from your family than I have from you.’ When she showed no sign of penitence Alasdair’s jaw tightened. ‘The man I saw leaving just now—is he coming on Sunday?’

‘No. My family don’t know about him yet.’ Which was true enough. ‘Thanks for coming, Alasdair. See you in church.’

He took her by the shoulders, looking into her eyes. ‘Cool reception or not, it’s good to see you, Kate.’

She returned the look head-on, doggedly ignoring her body’s reaction to his touch. ‘It’s good to see you, too, Alasdair.’

‘I’d prefer a touch more enthusiasm!’ He stooped to kiss her cheek, paused for an instant, then kissed her again, his mouth hard and hot on hers. ‘See you tomorrow, Kate.’

She shut the door after he’d gone and sat down with a thump, needing time to get herself together. How she’d longed for him to kiss her at one time. And in some ways it had been worth waiting for. Alasdair was as good at kissing as he was at everything else. Kate gave a sudden gurgle of laughter. Normally her only Saturday morning encounters were with the postman and old Mr Reith next door. This morning had been in a different league altogether. Jack, as he wanted her to call him, was something new in her experience of men. Not a rough diamond, by any means, but compared with expensively educated Alasdair he was no smooth sophisticate either. Nevertheless, Jack Spencer’s in-your-face directness was refreshing. He’d made it flatteringly plain he found her appealing.

Kate felt a surge of triumph as she took her bags out to the car. From the way Alasdair had kissed her just now, it seemed that these days he found her appealing too. For all the good it would do him.

The windows of Friars Wood, the home of four generations of Dysarts, gleamed in welcome in the pale February sunlight when Kate parked under the chestnut tree at the end of the terrace. The garden was in transition time, waking up from winter to spring, with cushions of snowdrops, clumps of daffodils about to burst into bloom, mauve heather flanked by creamy yellow primroses and purple crocus, and Kate went slowly up the steps, viewing it all with her usual sense of home-coming. Then her eyes lit up as the door to Friars Wood flew open and revealed her tall brother, grinning broadly as he held up the small bundle in his arms.

‘You’re late, Auntie. Wake up, Son,’ Adam instructed his baby. ‘Time to meet your godmother.’ He swept Kate into a hug with his free arm, and gave her a kiss. ‘Hi, half-pint. Want to hold him?’

‘Of course I want to hold him!’ She dumped down her holdall and held out her arms for her tiny godson. ‘Hello, little nephew,’ she said softly, smiling down into unfocused blue eyes. ‘Oh, thank goodness; you take after your mother.’

‘He does not,’ said Adam indignantly. ‘He looks like me.’

Kate eyed his black curly hair and dark eyes in amusement. ‘Apart from blue eyes and a wisp of hair as fair as Gabriel’s, he’s the spitting image,’ she mocked, then turned with a smile as her mother came hurrying along the hall from the kitchen.

‘Darling,’ said Frances, arms outstretched. ‘I didn’t hear the bell.’

‘It didn’t ring; I was watching from the window,’ said Adam, relieving Kate of his son.

Kate hugged her mother, then grinned as Gabriel Dysart dashed in through the front door. ‘Hi, how are you Mumsy?’

‘Very pleased with myself,’ said Adam’s wife, hugging her in turn, and waved a hand at her son. ‘Just look at him, Kate. Wasn’t I clever?’

‘You couldn’t have done it without me,’ Adam reminded her.

‘True,’ said Gabriel, laughing, ‘But I did the lion’s share.’

Kate went into the kitchen with the others, to be given tea and cake and all the latest news of the family. Shortly afterwards her father came in from walking the dog, and Adam fended off the excited retriever while Tom Dysart held his daughter close and demanded all the latest news from Foychurch. Kate sat patting Pan’s golden head while she regaled the family with the events of the night before, then sent Adam out to her car to fetch the flowers and explained that her pupil’s uncle had given them to her by way of thanks.

‘Goodness, how extravagant,’ said Frances Dysart when she saw them. ‘Enough to make two arrangements for tomorrow, Kate. I’ve done the church, but I hadn’t got round to the house yet. You don’t mind if we use them, darling?’

‘Of course not. That’s why I brought them home.’

‘I hear you refused Alasdair’s invitation to dinner, by the way,’ accused Adam.

Kate wrinkled her nose at him. ‘I had other commitments.’

Her brother eyed her warily. ‘You know I’ve invited him to the christening on Sunday?’

‘Yes. Though I can’t imagine why.’

Adam shrugged. ‘When he put some of his grandmother’s furniture into auction at Dysart’s he stood me lunch at the Chesterton. I asked him if he’d like to come, and he accepted like a shot. I thought you’d be pleased.’

‘He means well,’ said Gabriel indulgently, smiling over her son’s head.

Kate nodded, resigned. ‘I know. And that’s quite enough about Alasdair Drummond. Give me the important news. Who else is coming?’

‘Leo and Jonah, of course,’ said Frances, ‘but without the children for once. Jonah’s parents are taking them to Paris to Disneyland this weekend.’

‘Greater love hath no grandparents,’ said Tom piously.

‘How about Jess?’

‘Not this time,’ said Frances, filling teacups. She smiled at Kate. ‘She confirmed last night that she’s pregnant again.’

‘And Lorenzo’s keeping her wrapped in cotton wool!’ Kate grinned, looked at the downy head cradled close to Gabriel’s breast, intercepted the tender look Adam gave his wife and felt a fleeting pang of envy. But dismissed it. The increasing number of her siblings’ progeny was quite high enough without adding to it herself.

‘How about Fenny?’ she asked. ‘Is she going to make it?’

‘Someone’s driving her down this evening, apparently,’ said Tom, shaking his head. ‘She won’t take her car to college.’

‘Because there’s always some clown on hand ready to ferry her wherever she wants to go,’ said Adam, grinning.

‘More than one,’ said Gabriel. ‘And she doesn’t care a fig for any of them. Just good friends, she says.’

‘At her age,’ Frances said thankfully, “‘just good friends” sounds very comforting to me.’

Soon afterwards Adam and Gabriel took their son off to the Stables for his bath and supper, promising to return with him later for dinner.

‘Though whether Fenny will be home in time to share it is uncertain,’ said Frances, chuckling. ‘But she’ll ring at some stage. Fen tries not to worry me too much.’

‘Your ewe lamb,’ teased Tom.

‘Come over with us, Kate,’ said Adam. ‘I’ll show you the jug I found for you.’