Loving

‘I see.’ He wasn’t looking at her and Lissa was sure she must have imagined the tiny thread of satisfaction running through his voice because when he did look at her, his face was carefully devoid of all expression.

‘It’s been a long day,’ he said quietly. ‘I think we should both try to get some sleep.’ He picked up the now cold cup of tea he had made her earlier and said calmly, ‘I’ll go down and make us both a nightcap while you get ready for bed,’ and Lissa knew that he was telling her that he was giving her the privacy to get undressed and into bed without him being there. She was grateful to him for his understanding, she thought tiredly as she slid between cool sheets a little later, and yet as she closed her eyes and tried to court sleep, the memory uppermost in her mind was of the emotional and physical sensations she had experienced when Joel held her in his arms.

CHAPTER SIX

‘BUT YOU HAVEN’T KISSED Lissa “goodbye”.’

They were having breakfast in the kitchen, th

e scene a homely familiar one, Emma struggling with her cereal in her high chair while Louise sat between Joel and herself. Joel had an early meeting with one of his tenant farmers and he had already finished his breakfast. He had stood up to kiss Louise ‘goodbye’—a formality she insisted on every morning, and it was her shrill, piping complaint that drew Lissa’s attention away from Emma. Both of them were on their guard for any signs of insecurity from Louise, and over the top of her blonde head their eyes met in mutual concern. Since the night she had admitted the truth to him Lissa had found herself much more relaxed in Joel’s company; much more able to appreciate the side of him she had previously thought reserved only for others. He was a compassionate caring man, and a very strong one as well, she acknowledged. He had talked to her on several occasions about her past, drawing her out in a way that afterwards had the power to amaze her. She had found herself confiding things to him that she had never dreamed of telling anyone, but conversely the closer she felt drawn towards him the greater pains he seemed to take to preserve a distance between them. And somehow that hurt, even though it should not have done.

‘Kiss Mummy,’ Emma announced, spooning cereal liberally into and around her mouth. While Louise alternated in calling them Lissa and Joel and ‘Mummy’ and ‘Daddy’, Emma, too young to have any deeply lasting memory of her parents, had quickly transferred their titles to Lissa and Joel.

Both of them had agreed to let the girls call them whatever made them feel most comfortable, but it did something to her heart, Lissa admitted wryly, to hear Emma addressing her as ‘Mummy’. She loved both girls with a fiercely protective maternalism that still half surprised her. They had entirely different personalities; in Louise she detected certain of her own personality traits, together with, quite surprisingly, some of Joel’s, while Emma was completely Amanda’s daughter.

Conscious of Louise’s critically appraising scrutiny, Lissa obediently lifted her face in the direction of Joel’s as he bent towards her. His mouth touched her cheek, his lips cool and firm, and a tiny shiver ran through her. She started to pull away, but his hand curled round the back of her head, his thumb tilting her jaw. For one surprised second her eyes stared into his, noting that close to they weren’t flat, metallic gold at all, but warm and alive, glittering with topaz depths and then his mouth was on hers and instinctively her eyelashes fluttered down, her heartbeat surging into a faster tempo. Her body melted into soft pliancy with a swiftness that startled her, her lips enjoying the tactile sensation of Joel’s moving against them. His grip on the back of her neck suddenly tightened and for a moment Lissa thought that he was actually going to kiss her properly, but then he released her stepping back, his mouth twisting in a derisive smile that reminded her of the old Joel she had resented so much.

‘Daddy gone,’ Emma exclaimed mournfully as the kitchen door closed behind him, and Lissa automatically directed her to finish up her breakfast, at the same time unable to stop her fingers from touching her still tremulous mouth, startled by the realisation that she had actually wanted Joel to kiss her. Why … why should Joel be able to arouse inside her a physical response that she was unable to give to anyone else?

It was probably because he knew the truth, she told herself and that because of that she was able to relax with him … knowing that she had nothing to fear; neither his anger nor his rejection. And after all he was an extremely attractive specimen of the male species she reminded herself wryly. She had grown so used to seeing Joel in his role as caring and concerned father-figure-cum-confessor that she was beginning to lose sight of the fact that he was also an extremely virile, sensual male. The thought was a disquieting one. At the moment Joel felt guilty enough about the past, and concerned enough for her and the girls for them to absorb all his spare time, but what would happen in the future when they were not such immediate concerns? When the girls were secure enough not to need so much attention? He was not a man she could ever envisage living like a monk … So he would take a mistress, a tiny voice told her coolly. What else could she expect? How could she object? How indeed? But more important why should she want to object? She didn’t want Joel as her lover … did she?

That she should entertain even the slightest doubt rocked her into hurried action … anything to dispel such dangerous thoughts. Quickly she cleared away the breakfast things and got the girls buttoned into warm clothes so that she could take them for a walk.

Winterly had extensive gardens and Lissa took the girls outside for a walk most mornings. It was still only February, and although the weather was relatively mild there was definitely a chilly nip in the air.

They were out for almost an hour, returning with rosy cheeks and bright eyes, Emma now in Lissa’s arms.

She had just put her down when the phone started to ring. Lissa picked up the receiver, delighted when she realised the woman on the other end of the line was calling in response to her ad for a new housekeeper. She lived locally, her caller told Lissa, and had been widowed eighteen months ago. In her late fifties she found herself with time on her hands and although she had had no previous working experience, she sounded so warm and pleasant that Lissa made an appointment to interview her.

With someone else to take over the more mundane household duties she would have more time to spend with the girls and some to spare to help Joel with his paper work. He had had a secretary who had come in a couple of days a week he had explained to her, but she had left the area when she married, and now he was relying on John’s secretary at the factory complex, which was really an unsatisfactory arrangement. ‘Mrs Hartwell already has more than enough to do,’ he had told Lissa when they were discussing the matter, ‘and once the new Managing Director is appointed, it would hardly be fair of me to appropriate his secretary’s time for estate work.’

‘Once we’ve got a new housekeeper I could help out here,’ Lissa had offered, and she remembered now the way he had looked at her, thoughtfully almost as though he were trying to see into her mind.

‘You already do more than enough,’ he had told her rather abruptly. ‘Just because you’re my wife, Lissa, I don’t expect you to work yourself into the ground.’

‘But can’t you see, I want to do it,’ she had retorted. ‘I want to help you as much as I can Joel … I need to be able to justify myself my role as your wife,’ she had admitted, surprising herself by her honesty.

‘Do you?’ The expression in his eyes then had been one she couldn’t interpret, but she had moved quickly away from him, alerted by some primitive instinct to do so, although quite what she had feared she had been at a loss to know. Certainly his mouth had curled into a distinctly cynical smile, and he had said in that quiet, silky, even voice of his which she had learned to recognise was one he used when he was particularly irritated, ‘There’s no need to run away, Lissa, I’m not going to pounce on you …’

Lissa had been immediately ashamed of her reaction. Not once in the three weeks since she had told him the truth had Joel given the slightest indication of wanting to touch her in any way. At first her relief in having told him the truth blotted out any other emotions but now …

Now what? she challenged herself as she made the girls’ lunch. She was disappointed because Joel had kept to his word? Of course not. How ridiculous … How could she be?

She had arranged to see Mrs Fuller, the applicant for the housekeeper’s post while the girls had their afternoon nap, and when she answered the door to her knock Lissa was agreeably pleased with what she saw.

Small and slightly plump, Mrs Fuller had an air of warmth about her that Lissa immediately liked. As she showed her over the house she explained the type of life they led, adding, ‘Of course the girls will not be your concern, but they are part of the household and both Joel and myself want them to feel secure and happy here. I do believe in a certain amount of discipline, but if for instance you feel that you couldn’t cope with muddy boots in the kitchen occasionally or toys in the hall, then this post won’t be for you,’ Lissa said firmly, feeling relieved when Mrs Fuller laughed warmly.

‘Heavens, no, I think children make a home. I had three myself. They’re all married now and living away from home. Both my girls live abroad—one in Australia the other in California, so unfortunately I don’t get to see my grandchildren often enough, but I do know what it means to have young children about the place. Of course there’ll be certain rooms that you won’t want them to play in.’

‘The drawing room, my husband’s study and the formal dining room,’ Lissa agreed.

They talked for a little while longer, and when Mrs Fuller eventually left having agreed to start work the following Monday Lissa was extremely pleased.

She told Joel about it over dinner, checking as she wondered if perhaps he would have preferred to interview Mrs Fuller himself.

‘Good heavens no,’ he told her when she asked. ‘That is entirely your province and if you say she’s the right person for the job then I’m sure she is.’

He went on to tell her about the interviews he had been conducting to find a Managing Director to take over the running of the factory.

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