A few minutes later, he turned the car into a wide driveway, and Wendy looked up, startled, at a Tudor-style house. It was far smaller than the Burgess mansion, but it was still an imposing sight – two full stories, with a few small windows marking a third floor which must nestle under the steep slate roof. The front door was huge, a gothic panel carved from dark wood. Rows of leaded windows poured light out across the snow-covered grass.
“Welcome home,” Mack said.
Home?
The shock sent ice cubes tumbling through her veins as she realized, He didn’t even ask me what I liked. So much for being partners!
“What do you think?”
He sounded very pleased with himself. And Wendy supposed, as the first shock settled into a numbing lump in her heart, that she was being unreasonable. Any sensible woman would be delighted; the house was gorgeous, and his apartment was too small for them to be comfortable, even for a short time. This was an extremely generous move on Mack’s part.
But not particularly generous toward Wendy. He had made this decision with his own comfort in mind, and Rory’s perhaps. But not Wendy’s.
If he’d been thinking of me, Wendy told herself, he’d at least have asked me what I thought, before he struck the deal.
“It’s... very pretty,” she said stiffly, and pushed the car door open.
Mack came around to her door. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I said it was pretty.” She opened the back door and started to unbuckle Rory’s safety seat.
“This is no way to start, Wendy.”
The chilly wind brought tears to her eyes. “All right, then,” she said fiercely. “You said we’d be partners. Maybe I don’t want a big hulking house!”
“You don’t have one,” Mack said coolly.
“Oh, fine, so it’s in your name. I’m not surprised.”
“It belongs to a friend of mine who’s been transferred to Boston. I rented it for six months to give us a chance to look around, because I didn’t think you needed the stress of house-hunting on top of everything else.”
Wendy bit her lip. One tear slid down her cheek and disappeared into the fur of Rory’s snowsuit.
His voice softened a little. “And I didn’t ask you about it because it was a perfect deal to get us through a few difficult months. He even left the furniture, because he’s not sure the job in Boston will last, and he didn’t want to move everything just yet.”
“I’m sorry, Mack,” she managed.
He selected a brass key from his ring and unlocked the big front door. But before he pushed it open he leaned against the stone casing and looked down at her. “How about it, Wendy? Shall we start over?”
She nodded.
“Then... welcome home.”
She tried to smile. “It’s... a very pretty house.”
Mack looked down at her for a long moment. Then, before Wendy had any idea what he was planning, he’d picked her up – Rory and all – and stepped over the threshold. She gave a little shriek and clutched at him, and he was laughing as he set her down on the polished marble floor of the entrance hall and closed the door.
Wendy turned a full circle and looked around. At one side of the hall, double doors led into a large drawing room. At the other, another pair of doors opened on a long hallway; she could spot bookcases through one door and the corner of a china cabinet in yet another room. A massive staircase climbed ponderously up to a landing, and an enormous chandelier cast warm light over the room. “This is pretty impressive,” she said, almost to herself.
“Better than Mother and Dad’s?”
“It’s not so overwhelming,” she said. “At least I can imagine living here. I can’t imagine keeping it clean, but... How big is it, anyway?”
“Six bedrooms and eight baths.”
“Good heavens.”
“Tom left a lot of personal stuff in one of the bedrooms, so you don’t need to worry about that one.”
“What a relief,” Wendy murmured.
Mack grinned. “First things first – let’s get Rory settled.”
He draped his coat over a carved Elizabethan bench by the front door and led the way upstairs. “Tom doesn’t have kids, but Parker had the baby furniture moved while we were at dinner. So we only have to find it. Ah, here.”
The room might have been designed as a nursery, but it obviously had been used as a guest room instead. The wallpaper was scrolled in shell pink and lavender, overpoweringly feminine shades that Wendy had never found particularly appealing. The bathroom was filled with ruffles and lace, and the wall of closets had mirrored doors.
“Oh, that’s going to be fun if Rory starts to walk before we move,” Wendy said. “I can see those doors now, full of fingerprints.” She put the baby down on the changing table. Mack helped Wendy out of her coat and turned the lights down as she started to unzip Rory’s snowsuit.
Intrigued by yet another new vista, Rory tried her best to keep her eyes open so she could look around. But the battle was too much for her, and she settled into her crib with a sleepy sigh.
Mack tucked a blanket around her. “I’ve been meaning to ask you why she does that. With the whole crib to choose from, why does she poke her head into one corner?”
“I don’t know. I expect it makes her feel secure.”
“I’ve never seen a baby do that before.”
She looked at him curiously. “Mack, where did you learn about babies?”
He shrugged. “Here and there. Some of my friends have kids. Good friends – you’ll like them, I think.” He watched as she located both pieces of the intercom and hooked one on the end of the crib. “Where did you learn?”
Wendy clipped the other half of the intercom on her skirt band so wherever she went, she would hear if the baby made a noise. “From Rory, mostly – and reading the books. I was so scared at first that every time she hiccupped I went straight into panic.”
“No wonder – being alone with her like that.” He plugged in the night light and closed the door behind them.
Near the top of the stairs, he paused beside a bedroom door. “I thought you’d be most comfortable here.”
She peeked inside. In the dim light from the hallway she could see only that the room was large and the wall covering was a tapestry print in a dark, rich shade. A big bed stood against the far wall, and a dainty dressing table was near the door.
Downstairs once more, Mack hung her coat in the closet under the stairs and picked up his own. “Parker said he’d stock the kitchen. Do you want a snack?”
“Does that mean Mrs. Cardoza sent you a picnic basket?”
“I can hope.”
She tried to be unobtrusive about peeking into each room as they walked down the long hall. A fire was laid on the hearth in the library, ready to be lit. The china in the dining room cabinets was more contemporary than she would have chosen, but pretty nonetheless.
“It feels a little strange to me, too,” he said. “Being in Tom’s house without Tom here, I mean.”
“I can imagine. It’s like an elegant hotel to me, but you must feel like a permanent house guest.”
Mack sighed. “I suppose we’ll get used to it. You mentioned keeping the place clean.”
“Must you remind me? Maybe I’ll just keep the lights turned down low.”
“I asked Parker, and he recommended a couple he knows.”
Wendy knew she looked doubtful, but she couldn’t help it. Having the Burgess staff around had been altogether different; she wasn’t the one who had to tell them what to do. But dealing with employees of her own...
Mack seemed to read her thoughts. “Two people, Wendy, not the hordes that Mother insists on. There’s a self-contained apartment over the carriage house, so they’d go home at night unless we wanted them. Their name is Morgan, and they’ll come to see you tomorrow. If you like them, they can start right away.”
She nodded reluctantly. It was obvious she’d have to have help; no one could keep up with this h
ouse and a baby too.
The kitchen was huge, far newer than the rest of the house, and off one corner of it was a gazebo-like breakfast area. On summer mornings it would be wonderful, if it wasn’t too hot. Or was she still thinking like an Arizona native? There would be so much to learn.
Suddenly, Wendy was just too tired to care, and – incredibly – she found herself wanting to cry. “Mack, I don’t want food, I just want to sleep.” She smothered a yawn. “If you don’t mind...”
“Of course not. I still have to put my car away, so don’t panic if you hear me going out. And by the way, the other car is already in the carriage house. If you’d rather trade it for something else, we’ll look next week.”
Wendy shook her head. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s a nice car.”
It took all the energy she had to get up the stairs, and she closed the bedroom door behind her with a sense of relief and looked around. The wall covering which had looked so dark from the hallway turned out to be a rich mixture of green and amethyst and blue; the big bed, which she had seen only in shadow, was surprisingly modern. It was a four-poster, as she had expected, but the posts were made of crystal-clear acrylic instead of wood. A door off to one side led to a small sitting room.
Her clothes had been neatly arranged in drawers and closets. Parker must have sent over quite a large crew to accomplish everything so quickly. She carefully hung up her teal suit and searched out the nightgown Mrs. Parker had laid out for her on that first night in the Burgess house. Wearing one of Tessa’s creations somehow made her feel warmer.
Her wedding night. A sob rose to her throat. Oh, for pity’s sake, she told herself. It’s a rotten time to get sentimental.
She was just tired, that was all – emotionally and physically exhausted. And a bit scared at the new role she had taken on. Mack’s apartment had been one thing, but to manage a house the size of this one, and a staff to boot... she hadn’t had a chance to prepare herself for that.
She was brushing her hair when she heard a noise, and she tugged the velvet draperies back far enough to see the carriage house just as the lights went off. Mack came out and paused in the driveway, looking up at the house. Wendy let the drapes fall and climbed into bed.
She was propped up against the satin pillows, wishing that she had something to read for a few minutes to help her unwind, when a soft tap on the door which led to the sitting room made her heart race.
The door swung open. “All tucked in?” Mack said.
Wendy’s mouth went dry. What was he doing here?
For the first time, she found herself wondering precisely what Mack wanted from this marriage. She felt like an idiot not to have considered the question before, but it had seemed so obvious; with all his talk of loyalty and partnerships, he had never hinted at the possibility of a real marriage and a sexual union. Or had she simply not been listening?
If Mack wanted a nursery maid, Tessa had told her, he’d have hired one. Instead, he had married Wendy...and what did he expect from her?
He sat down on the edge of the bed beside her. He’d shed his jacket and tie, and the long sleeves of his white shirt were rolled almost to the elbow.
He never even kissed me till today, she thought. He can’t possibly want to make love to me!
But what a kiss that had been. Her whole body still went shivery whenever she thought of it.
She shifted slightly away from him, and he leaned forward and planted a hand on the pillow beside her, his face close to hers. “Mack!” she protested, and he drew back.
In his palm was the speaker half of Rory’s intercom. Wendy had placed it on her pillow so even the slightest noise would rouse her.
“I didn’t think about this till after you came upstairs. I’ll take the night watch and let you rest.”
Wendy felt so small she could have climbed between the fibers of the blanket she was clutching. “Umm... thanks,” she managed, and wished frantically that he’d go away before she turned any redder.
His fingertips caressed a loose lock of hair, tucking it back over her ear, and his lips brushed softly against the side of her throat. “Goodnight, Wendy,” he whispered, and he was gone.
Wendy sank back against her pillow and closed her eyes in pain. Of course he hadn’t intended to make love to her. It wasn’t part of the bargain, and so even if he’d wanted to – which obviously he didn’t....What a fool she was!
But a little later, as her conscious mind shut down and she slid over the brink of sleep, she wondered. If he had wanted to stay, what would she have done?
CHAPTER NINE
After a week of bitter weather, the cold snap had finally eased. At least, that was what the weatherman said; in Wendy’s opinion, instead of being frigid it was now merely unpleasantly cold. Still, it was better than usual, so after Rory finished her lunch, Wendy bundled her up in the stroller and went out for a walk.
She’d been a little doubtful about exposing such a small child to the elements when it really wasn’t necessary, until Mack had said, “We’re not raising a hot-house flower here. The quicker she gets accustomed to some cold air now and then, the less likely she is to be affected by it later on.”
Wendy had no idea if he was right about that, but she had to admit that Rory seemed to thrive on the cold. Over the weekend, Mack dragged them both out for a brisk stroll, and the baby’s pink cheeks and bright eyes – and the way she slept afterwards – had convinced Wendy that the fresh air hadn’t hurt the child.
She wished she could make the adjustment so easily herself. Chicago’s wind seemed to cut straight through her flesh, no matter how many layers of clothes she put on.
But today there was no wind, and thin sunshine caressed her face as she stopped to rearrange Rory’s blankets before turning back toward the house.
There were a few people out; she said hello to the mailman and a couple of hardy joggers. When she was within a block of the house, a woman who was getting into a car paused and said, “You’ve just moved into Tom Exeter’s house, haven’t you?”
Wendy nodded. “I’m Wendy Burgess.” The name still felt difficult on her tongue.
“My name’s DeCarlo,” the woman said brusquely. “May I see the baby?”
Wendy pulled the blanket back. Rory blinked sleepily in the sunlight, then screwed up her face and sneezed.
“Doesn’t much resemble you,” the woman said. “She must look like her daddy.”
Wendy considered saying, No, she looks like her mother. But the convolutions of her immediate family were hardly any business of the neighbors. Besides, Mack had told her just last night that Rory’s birth father had agreed to sign the papers waiving his parental rights. That meant the adoption should move along right on schedule, and within a few months Rory really would be her daughter – and Mack’s.
So she nodded and smiled, instead. It was true enough, Rory did look like Mack. All the Burgesses seemed to have inherited Samuel’s coloring and Elinor’s incredible eyes.
The back steps of the Tudor house hadn’t been built with strollers in mind, and it was a bit of a job to maneuver the vehicle up and inside. She was startled, however, when the door was opened for her. “There you are,” Mack said. “I was beginning to wonder why I couldn’t raise an answer anywhere.”
“What are you doing home on Wednesday afternoon?” Wendy felt a bit breathless; she tried to tell herself that she must have walked farther and faster than she’d realized.
He smiled and started to unbutton her coat, almost as if she’d been Rory’s age. “I got tired of paperwork. I brought it home with me, of course, but at least the scenery’s different. Mrs. Morgan doesn’t seem to be anywhere around, either.”
“She went to the supermarket. And Mr. Morgan dropped her off and then took my car to have the oil changed. Anything else you’d like to know?”
He turned her around and slid her coat off. “No, and I wasn’t asking for a report. The house just felt lonely, that’s all.” His voice was matter-of-fact.
There was absolutely nothing about what he’d said, and especially how he’d said it, to cause her to get the quivers. He’d merely come home to work for the afternoon, where he wouldn’t be interrupted.
She should be getting used to this by now. He wasn’t saying or doing anything off-limits or presumptuous. He didn’t even kiss her goodbye every morning – and it was hardly fair to call a casual peck on the cheek a kiss, anyway. And though he came into her room almost every night, there was always a good reason, and he never stayed long. She just made it a point these days not to get into bed until after he’d gone.
The only blessing was he didn’t seem to realize how the merest touch seemed to send electrical impulses through every nerve. And that, Wendy reflected, was exactly how she wanted to keep it. She just needed a little more time to get used to this strange situation. In the meantime, the more light-hearted and teasing she could be, the better.
“I’ll tell Mrs. Morgan you miss her,” she said.
Mack lifted Rory from the stroller and grinned. “Of course I miss her. I haven’t had lunch.”
“Neither have I, but I think I can manage to put something together.”
Rory nestled her head into Mack’s shoulder and gave an enormous yawn. He looked at the baby speculatively. “I’d guess that means it’s time for a nap, sprout.”
Wendy nodded and touched Rory’s cheek. “Have a good rest, darling. And be sure to tell Daddy about your new tooth.”
Mack slid a fingertip into Rory’s mouth. “Has she got a new – ouch!”
Wendy tried to smother her smile.
By the time he came down again she had set two places at the table in the sunny breakfast nook, and she was dishing up steaming bowls of Mrs. Morgan’s homemade vegetable soup. On a board beside her plate was a big loaf of crusty brown bread, and nearby was a round of cheese. “It’s not grand,” she said.
Mack held her chair. “But a whole lot better than average.”
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