‘They were,’ Jack stressed. ‘But I don’t see Ben here now, do you? And afore you start telling me he had to go away to that fancy college of his, tell me the last time you saw him and Morwen being lovey-dovey together.’
‘I can’t remember. But you don’t think Morwen would—’
He gave her slender waist a squeeze, knowing a great satisfaction that his wife was still healthily disposed towards him, and that his anguish at not being able to express his love for her until recently, was her anguish too.
‘I think our Morwen’s as passionate as the rest on us,’ he whispered in her ear under cover of the general babble all around them. ‘And if Ben Killigrew don’t act the proper husband towards her, then why shouldn’t she look elsewhere?’
‘Jack, that’s scandalous talk!’ Annie hissed at him, praying that people wouldn’t hear. And wondering if this didn’t echo some dark fear inside himself. Had he perhaps wondered if his own wife might not look around for some other partner if her husband stuck too closely to the doctor’s blunt warnings?
It was ridiculous to think so, and it was for Annie’s own sake that Jack had been forced to lie rigidly beside her and think of something other than his own lusty urges… as she remembered those tormented nights, Annie felt a great wave of love for this tall, aggressively masculine husband of hers. She held his arm tightly to her side.
‘Forget about Morwen, dearest,’ she pleaded. ‘The girls can’t wait to see the monkey on the stick, and that’s all we need think about right now, isn’t it?’
He laughed down at her, and scooped up a squealing, giggling child in each powerful arm, as they sought out the man with the monkey dressed in a glittering little green waistcoast and red trousers, and the tiny fez ludicrously stuck on top of his head. This was the important thing, he agreed, seeing his children happy, and his wife’s pretty face filled with pleasure.
By the middle of the afternoon they were all exhausted. They had eaten toffee apples, and home-made cakes from the countrywomen’s stalls, drank lemon cordial and tasted various mixtures of sweets and biscuits, and Charlotte was looking decidedly pale.
‘I think it’s time we took them back to Jack’s house,’ Morwen said anxiously to Ran. ‘They left an hour ago, with the girls asleep in Jack’s arms. And before you boys protest, remember that there’ll be a fine tea waiting for you, if you’ve got room to stuff anything more inside you.’
‘Of course we have,’ Walter and Albert and Justin said at once. Morwen raised her eyebrows at Ran and Freddie, commenting that she hoped they wouldn’t have five sickly children to take home to St Austell that night.
‘Why take them back?’ Freddie said at once. ‘There’s room at my house and at Jack’s to accommodate you, if you’d prefer to stay until tomorrow morning. Jack said as much earlier in the day, and ’tis far better than travelling after dark. Some of the clayworkers can take a message to Killigrew House so that Mrs Horn won’t be expecting you back tonight.’
It was too tempting to refuse, and the children were charmed by the idea, already squabbling over who would stay with which brother. Freddie settled it.
‘I could take the three boys if they don’t mind bunking in together in my bed, and I’ll sleep on the sofa,’ Freddie said. ‘Jack and Annie have room for you and Ran and the two girls.’
‘What do you say, Morwen?’ Ran said. ‘I think we should. Let the children start afresh tomorrow morning.’
She nodded in agreement. It would be strange to sleep away from home, especially without Ben. Even though she hadn’t moved back into their bedroom since their terrible quarrel, he had always been there, except for these three nights when he was in London. Neither had thought that she would be away from home for one of those nights as well. But why not? It would be as much an adventure for her as for the children.
Freddie sought out several of the Killigrew clayworkers he knew of old, who promised to deliver the note to Killigrew House, touching their caps to Morwen in respectful recognition.
Now they could set off for Jack and Annie’s house with the children, the girls already arguing excitedly now over which bed they would sleep in and what they would wear for nightgowns. Once they were settled in the house, Ran and Morwen left them there, driving off in the Killigrew carriage to view the splendid new house Ran intended to buy.
And once again, a silent watcher hovered near, curiosity really taking hold of him now, as Jude Pascoe saw his cousin’s wife being apparently whisked off in the diminishing daylight to some unknown destination away from Truro town, without a chaperone in sight.
Chapter Seven
Morwen looked in open-mouthed pleasure at the elegant house that Ran pointed out. Bathed in the last rays of the evening sunlight, it seemed to welcome her. It was quite grand, sitting on top of the low moors, with lawns sweeping away towards the sea, yet without the more austere appearance of Killigrew House. She exclaimed with delight as Ran trotted the horses forward through the wrought-iron gates with symbolic stone lions as guardians atop massive pillars at either side.
‘Ran, I never dreamed it would be so magnificent!’ Morwen exclaimed. ‘It’s the house of a man who means to settle. Are you very sure about this?’
She hardly realized how much, how very much, she hoped that it was so, or how his smile reassured her.
‘A man with a good business at his fingertips would be foolish indeed if he didn’t remain near his acquisition,’ he said lightly, careful not to reveal how he revelled in Morwen’s glowing pleasure. He was careful too, not to betray how dear she was becoming to him. Dangerously dear, Ran admitted, and the sooner he moved out of Killigrew House and into an establishment of his own, the better.
Even to finding a wife of his own… but each time he contemplated such a move, the only face that floated in and out of his dreams was the lovely face of Morwen Killigrew.
‘I hope it all comes up to your expectations and meets with your approval, Madame.’ He went on, teasingly, because it was obvious to him now that asking Morwen to help furnish his home might not be such a good idea after all. It was what he wanted, of course, but he would always be thinking of her being here with him, his possessions her possessions, her life entwined with his, and it was an impossible dream that was best strangled at birth…
He felt her soft hand on his arm as the horses stopped in front of the house, and he was unaware that he sat motionless for a few seconds as the dream enveloped him.
‘Ran? Are we going inside, or are you too awe-struck by your own cleverness in finding such a beautiful house?’ Morwen laughed into his face.
He jumped out of the carriage, holding out his arms to lift her down. She was more than feather-light in his arms. She was warm feminine flesh and substance, and as his hands spanned her waist, he felt a fierce protective desire for her. And a brief anger at the short-sightedness of Ben Killigrew, who was more concerned with ambition than the priorities of family life.
He brushed such thoughts aside as he let her go and watched as she picked up her skirts to walk lightly up the steep stone steps at the front of the house. He was probably all wrong, anyway. He was a stranger, seeing things too acutely with a stranger’s eye, the way he was wont to do. Such keen vision had served him well in the past, but it had never been so coloured before, and Ran freely admitted that his feelings for another man’s wife were beginning to trouble him greatly.
‘The house has been unoccupied for some while,’ he said prosaically, to keep his mind off the memory of holding her in his arms. ‘Several of the rooms need attention, and there is some exterior repair work to be done—’
Morwen stopped abruptly. ‘So I see!’
The tiled balcony along the front of the house was broken in several places, most notably right in front of the door, where a large tiled area was cracked and sunken. She might have caught her toe in one of the cracks and fallen, if Ran had not caught at her arm at the same moment.
‘I’m sorry, I should have warned you—’
/> ‘It’s all right, Ran,’ she began to laugh. ‘I’m not made of cotton. I can step over the cracks.’
‘Wait a minute.’
He stepped over the broken tiled area and opened the heavy door with an ornate key, then turned back to her.
‘Will you allow me to emulate Sir Walter Raleigh, my lady?’ He made an elaborate bow, and the formal words in the American accent sounded funny to her ears. ‘As one of your colonial cousins, I’d like to prove that we’ve inherited a few manners from the mother country!’
‘Oh Ran, you are a ninny,’ Morwen giggled, but before she could protest, he had swept her up in his arms and was striding through the door into the entrance hall. She bumped against his body as he carried her right inside, involuntarily clinging on to him at the unexpectedness of it all. Ran still held her, and she was very aware of his rapid heartbeat against her breast.
‘Are you going to put me down?’ she protested, still laughing. ‘I feel suspended up here!’
He looked down at her, and even in the dimness of the house she could see the sudden change of expression in his eyes. It matched something deep inside her that she couldn’t immediately identify. Longing, fear, need…
‘Put me down, cousin,’ she said quietly, using the term deliberately, because of all the new and turbulent emotions churning in her veins.
‘Not until you pay me the fee for entering my house,’ he was unrelenting, unheeding of her words.
‘What fee? Ran, please—’
‘It’s an old American custom,’ his voice was soft now, his breath on her cheek. ‘A lady is expected to give a gentleman a kiss when she enters his house for the first time.’
‘I don’t believe it. You’re making it up—’
‘Would you insult your cousin by not accepting a well-known custom of his country?’ he mocked her.
And before she could protest any further, his dark head was bent towards hers, and his hands held her fast to him. Still in his arms, Morwen felt as though she were literally floating in space as his mouth touched hers. Gently at first, and then with a restrained passion that she could no longer mistake.
And her arms that were clinging to his neck seemed to have a life of their own as they held him tight, wanting more of him, wanting all of him. The sudden small whinnying of a horse brought her back to reality, and she dropped her arms, pushing her hands against him as she wriggled out of his embrace.
‘I think that is sufficient fee for any cousin to extract,’ she spoke breathlessly, not wanting him to guess how much she had wanted the kiss to continue, and for love to grow and flourish between them. Such thoughts were wrong, but they were suddenly, gloriously, the only thoughts in her head at that moment…
Morwen turned away in a small burst of embarrassment. Had he guessed? He mustn’t, not ever. Not while she was Ben’s wife, and it was to Ben that her duty lay. Shocked, Morwen registered that her first thought had been of duty towards Ben, not love. It was a thought that filled her with pain, because she always believed that love lasted forever, even beyond the grave. But perhaps there was no such thing as forever…
‘Are we going to look at the house while there’s still a bit of daylight, Ran? That was our purpose for coming here, wasn’t it?’
‘Of course. There are some oil-lamps, Morwen. I’ll light one and we’ll explore. We should have got here earlier, perhaps this morning, and brought the children as well.’
She watched as he found the oil-lamp and lit the wick, throwing the house into a warm rosy glow. Her thoughts were as jerky as his words. Brought the children this morning? And if they had, she suspected that the so-called old American custom would never have been mentioned, and she wouldn’t have been held in his arms and kissed so rapturously.
She mustn’t think of it that way, either. She was a sensibly married woman with a loving husband and a houseful of children. She was content. She had everything that a woman could want, and the dreams that came in the night, when a woman was a girl again, and all of life and love were hers for the taking, were nothing more than dreams… and everyone knew that dreams seldom came true.
She followed Ran through the house, trying to imagine it filled with the sounds of laughter, instead of the cold echoing rooms through which they moved. But it had potential. It could be a lovely family home. It was a house that ached to be filled with children, a house of dreams…
‘I’m sure it will suit you very well, Ran,’ she spoke abruptly, when they had finished the tour of it all. ‘You’ve had an architect’s report on it, I believe?’
‘Oh yes. Everything’s sound enough, or will be when the repairs are done. And you’ll help me to decide on colour schemes and furniture as we agreed?’
Morwen bit her lip. Was it wise, or would she merely be indulging herself, fitting out a house for some other woman to live in, in a way she herself had never done? But if it was Ran’s wish…
‘I’d be glad to, providing we come here next time in daylight, so that I can give you some sensible opinions,’ she said evenly.
‘Daylight will be best,’ he agreed. ‘We should bring the children, and Ben, and your entire family, perhaps.’
Morwen turned away. ‘I think you make fun of me, Ran. Perhaps I’m not quite as ready for your colonial ways as you seem to think.’
‘Morwen, isn’t it time we forgot those ridiculous labels we put on each other? We’re just people, you and I, just a man and a woman. And given other circumstances, a man and a woman who could mean a great deal to one another, and I make no apologies for my background for saying such things to you.’
‘Then I think you should. ’Tis not the way a gentleman should speak to a lady – or perhaps despite your fine words, you’re still labelling me as a clayworker’s daughter!’
She goaded him, hardly knowing why. Would he have said such things to Miss Finelady Jane? The insidious thought crept into her mind, and she tilted her chin higher. She heard Ran give a contemptuous laugh, and before she knew what was happening, she was pulled into his arms again. His hands moved swiftly upwards from her waist to cup her face. She felt the soft sweet caress of his fingers, and it seemed as if all her flesh moved beneath her skin at his touch.
‘You idiotic woman,’ his voice was rough now. ‘Do you think I care a damn what you were? It’s not the way we think in my country. We’re not hide-bound by such pomposity, and all I care about is what you are. All I ever want is what I know I can’t have.’
She couldn’t avoid his kiss without the risk of having her neck snapped in two. And she didn’t want to risk that… nor could she deny the surging thrill of his words, the wanton passion flooding through her at the pressure of his mouth on hers, and the evidence of his desire in every part of his body that touched hers.
At last he let her go, and it was Ran who stood silently for a moment, while Morwen trembled at the force of her own sexuality.
‘I’ve never stolen another man’s wife, Morwen, nor do I intend to start now. But I’d be a hypocrite if I denied that I would give the world to make you mine. I’m sorry I burdened you with my secret. I had hoped to keep it mine alone.’
‘Let’s speak no more of it, Ran,’ she said unsteadily. ‘It was a moment’s madness, and we both know what our relationship must continue to be—’
For a second he spoke bitterly. ‘Yes. The American cousin daring to buy Cornish land and Cornish business, allowed into the Killigrew household because of distant family connections. I’ll try hard to remember it, but don’t insult my feelings by calling them no more than a moment’s madness.’
‘I have to,’ Morwen whispered. ‘Don’t you see? Otherwise, I can no longer come here with you, nor would I feel comfortable in my own home whenever you called. I would feel guilty every time I looked at you.’
‘I do see,’ he said at last. ‘So I must continue to think of you as my dear cousin and nothing more. And you?’
‘It’s what you are to me,’ she said simply, knowing it was the greatest lie she ha
d ever spoken. Because in those illuminating moments, she knew that Randell E Wainwright had become so much more. The knowledge was new and frightening. She wanted to run away from it, but there was nowhere to hide from the thoughts inside her head. He blew out the oil-lamp, and the pungent aroma enveloped them for a moment, the wispy smoke enclosing them in a small private world.
‘I had better get you back to Truro, Morwen.’ He was once more the considerate gentleman, and she gave a sigh of relief. ‘The road will be busy with people going home from the fair, and will be relatively safe, but if we’re out too long after dark, I’m sure your brothers will start to worry.’
‘And you’ll see the agent about the house soon?’ She was thankful to be outside of it, stepping carefully around the broken tiles without waiting for assistance, and talking of less emotive subjects.
‘Tomorrow,’ Ran said. ‘When I want something, I see no point in wasting time. If I did, I would have missed the chance of buying Prosper Barrows, and that promises to be a good investment.’
Morwen nodded as he helped her into the carriage. The words were innocuous enough, but she felt an unaccountable shiver run through her. He had made it very clear that he wanted her, but she believed him to be an honourable man, and that he would never try to take her from Ben. But no amount of honour ever stopped a man wanting, or a woman loving.
* * *
All the way back to Truro, they felt as though they were salmon trying to swim upstream as they were caught in the crush of carriages and groups of walking revellers going in the opposite direction. As they left the grounds of the new house, Morwen had the strange feeling that someone was watching them, and she couldn’t forget the moment when she had thought she had seen Jude Pascoe. She had been thinking of dreams, but the thought of that man was a nightmare…
They reached Jack’s house safely, and discovered that Freddie had already taken the three boys to his own house to spend the night. Annie had put the girls to bed with the twins, and she and Jack were eager to hear details of the fine new house Ran was buying. Morwen plunged into descriptions of it, praising the design of the architecture and the superb sea and moorland views, and Ran’s luck in finding it.
Family Ties Page 9
