One London Night

by Denise A. Agnew

  His gaze snapped to hers and held. “Yes.” Again he paused, as if considering something important. “Do you ever feel…as if we’re losing ground?”

  Puzzled, she shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “As if the British can’t win this war? As if Hitler and his cronies are too evil and enormous to fight?”

  “Sometimes. Do you?”

  “Yes. I remind myself thinking like that is what could bring us down faster than the enemy.”

  “The uncertainty of what can happen each day…that’s what bothers me the most.”

  His eyebrows went up. “Really? I would think a war correspondent would thrive on that.”

  She put down her wine glass. “I thought I would too. Perhaps there’s a small part of me that does. The other part is terrified. I find myself jumping at sounds that before wouldn’t have made a difference. Sirens never used to bother me. Now when an ambulance races by and it isn’t during a raid, I still find myself tensing and anticipating something horrible.”

  He took her hand, squeezing it gently. “Old timers call that shell shock. Maybe you’ve got a mild form of that. Maybe I do.”

  “I’ve heard of that. It worries me,” she said.

  “Maybe we can’t stop it. We have to endure it for now. It’s the price we pay for doing what we do.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Do you mind…if I talked to you about it sometimes? When it gets to be too much?” he asked.

  Touched that he’d want to reveal this side of himself to her, she smiled. “Of course. You can talk to me about it any time. I don’t imagine many AFS people feel comfortable opening up, do they?”

  “I haven’t heard a one complain. They might grumble about Sally or one of the other women burning the coffee, but nary a word about their feelings.”

  “Sally should tell them to make coffee themselves if they don’t like it.”

  “She does.”

  They laughed and it felt so immeasurably good, she never wanted to leave this place. She wanted to soak in this moment, these feelings, this heaven of talking with him here and now.

  She allowed him to cradle her hand, and the sweet, comforting feeling coursed through the rest of her body. Once more something heated circled around inside her. He cupped her cheek, and she couldn’t look away from the intensity in his eyes. With slow deliberation, he moved, pulling her toward him until their lips met in a soft brush.

  She gasped, and he drew her closer, closer until his fingers plunged into her hair. He held her in place, and her heartbeat slammed in her chest as excitement tingled and danced. His mouth was tender and unbearably light, as if he feared hurting her.

  He drew back slightly, and she couldn’t take it. She grabbed his shoulders and drew him back, and their mouths met with ferocity. His tongue stroked deep, and the quick stroke sent a wild shot of pleasure through her loins. Desire sideswiped her, and the kiss exploded into more. She responded as he thrust again and again, tangling her tongue with his in a kiss so intoxicating she trembled.

  No man had ever kissed her this way before, with a heady pleasure that gave as much as it took. He drew back suddenly and left her arms, standing and walking to the fireplace. He stood with hands on hips, facing the fire. His head hung, and she saw his breathing coming fast, a tribute to what had passed between them. She hungered with a heady, uncontrollable shaking, a woman without restraint. She wanted him back, kissing her into oblivion.

  “Alec.” Her voice was a whisper on the air.

  He turned toward her, his hands now down at his side. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  She almost disagreed with him, but she knew what he meant. They were in this cottage alone. They’d taken a dangerous step, but she didn’t want to back away or ignore what they’d found together. Inside her logic, hot emotions swirled.

  “What’s wrong, Alec?”

  “I shouldn’t have kissed you. We can’t afford this right now, during a war.”

  Mixed with the passion she’d felt came regret for his words. “Are you saying we could have kissed with no war on and it would be all right?”

  “Maybe.”

  Frustration almost made her say something mean. Anything to make him realize how special the kiss had been. When they’d kissed at fourteen and fifteen years old, it hadn’t felt like this.

  Instead, she said, “We’re adults. We can be here together and talk, can’t we?” She stood and took her wineglass to the counter. She poured more wine. “I’m not leaving until I finish this bottle.”

  She made a move she didn’t understand. She walked to the bed, sat down upon it, and took a deep gulp of her wine. Her nerves jumped and pinged from everything that had happened today. After putting her wine glass on the bed stand, she toed off her shoes and lay back on the bed.

  “Tired?” he asked.

  “Thinking.”

  “About what?”

  She folded her hands over her stomach. She wanted to ask him why he’d kissed her. “My mind is in chaos. Today rattled me in so many ways. Then you kiss me and…”

  Alec walked toward the bed and sat on the other side, but she closed her eyes. She felt him moving, lying down next to her. His arm came over her midsection. She drew in a deep breath.

  When she opened her eyes, Alec looked down on her. “I kissed you because you’re my beautiful friend with a heart of gold. But I shouldn’t have done it.”

  She turned on her left side away from him and kept her eyes closed. She didn’t want to hear it. Tiredness pulled her down before she could form another thought, and she fell asleep.

  Chapter 13

  Sunday, September 29

  Sylvie woke with a jerk and a gasp as light streamed into the cottage and voices penetrated her slumber. Her eyes snapped open. Her grandfather and Alec’s father stood just inside the cottage door. Alarm jolted through her. Both men looked scandalized.

  “Father,” Alec said from behind her on the bed.

  “What on earth?” her grandfather asked.

  “What are you doing?” Alec’s father asked.

  Sylvie stood as embarrassment and chagrin assaulted her. How would she explain that she’d fallen asleep in the cottage and slept on this bed with Alec? She couldn’t.

  Alec left the bed and stood next to Sylvie.

  Sylvie’s grandfather looked as if he could eat nails. “What are you doing out here like this with my granddaughter?”

  She glanced over and caught Alec’s stone-cool expression.

  She spoke before he could answer. “We came out here last night to talk and fell asleep. Nothing more.”

  “I asked him, young lady,” Grandfather said, pointing at Alec with pure anger on his lined face.

  “Sylvie’s right. We came out here to talk about yesterday’s bombing,” Alec said.

  Alec’s father said, “I’d like to speak with you outside, Alec.”

  Alec sighed and rolled his eyes. “If you insist.”

  Sylvie grabbed her coat at the end of the bed. “Come on, Grandfather, let’s go back to the house. Have you had breakfast?”

  “No. When we realized you two were gone, we began hunting for you. We were quite put out. Your grandmother is frantic.”

  Alec left with his father, and when Sylvie and her grandfather walked along the path leading back to the house, she knew she hadn’t heard the last of this.

  Once out of earshot of the other men, her grandfather stopped in the middle of the path. “You, my dear, have a lot of cheek.”

  She couldn’t pretend she didn’t know what he meant. “We intended to come back to the house but fell asleep.”

  His expression was grim. “You were lying on a bed with a man who isn’t your husband. What if the servants get wind of this? In my youth, you would have instantly been required to marry.”

  “Well, this isn’t your youth, is it?”

  His eyes went hard. “You will speak to me with respect or not at all.”

  Anger t
ickled her spine. “I mean no disrespect, but I also won’t stand by and be talked to as if I were five years old. What happened was completely innocent.”

  He looked doubtful. “You are treading a very fine line with this, Sylvie.”

  “Things in the United States aren’t as stuffy and old-fashioned as they are here, grandfather. I wasn’t brought up English.”

  He snorted. “You have been brought up with enough English that you should be able to restrain yourself from doing ridiculous things that jeopardize your future. And this will upset your grandmother.”

  She knew she’d made a misstep sleeping the night away with Alec right beside her, but nothing had happened between them. Well, that wasn’t completely true. Something had happened. They’d kissed again after all these years.

  Sylvie touched his shoulder. “You don’t have to tell her.”

  He walked on, and she followed. “I’ve never been dishonest with your grandmother.”

  They continued the rest of their walk in silence. All the while she tried to think her way out of this mess, but her thoughts tangled. She shouldn’t have to have this conversation. It was nineteen forty, for heaven’s sake. Not nineteen fourteen.

  Grandmother and Mrs. Kent met them at the door.

  “Where were you?” Grandmother asked.

  “Let’s go to the parlor and we’ll explain,” Grandfather said.

  “Is this necessary?” Sylvie asked with exasperation.

  No one answered Sylvie, and she almost marched upstairs like a child who’d been chastised. No. No, she wouldn’t do that.

  Once in the parlor, her grandparents took the couch. Mrs. Kent sat on the very edge of a chair, her expression concerned. Sylvie sank into another chair near the fireplace, which crackled with a warm fire.

  “All right, do tell me what is going on,” Grandmother said, looking from Grandfather to Sylvie and back again.

  Sylvie rushed to speak first. “It is a misunderstanding. Alec and I went to the cottage last night to talk about yesterday. We also wanted to talk because we don’t see each other much in London. He’s very busy with the AFS, and my work keeps me busy too.”

  Alec’s mother brightened a little, her eyes less stressed. “Of course.”

  “We found them in bed together,” Grandfather said.

  “What?” Grandmother’s question shot out on a gasp.

  Mrs. Kent’s hand went to her chest, as if she’d received bad news.

  Sylvie sighed and closed her eyes for a moment before saying, “It wasn’t like that. We talked until late. I laid down on the bed because I was tired. We both fell asleep there, clothes on. Nothing happened.”

  Sylvie saw suspicion dancing in Mrs. Kent’s eyes, all ease removed.

  “Well…” Mrs. Kent said.

  “Good heavens, this is a scandal,” Grandmother said.

  Sylvie stood and walked to the fireplace. She rubbed her cold hands together. “Can we please stop acting so Victorian.”

  “Is this normal, proper practice in American households? Is this what they teach young ladies is acceptable?” Mrs. Kent asked, turning around on her chair to better see Sylvie.

  Sylvie stiffened her spine and turned her back to the fire. “No.”

  Grandfather cleared his throat. “Mrs. Kent, I’m sorry this is distressing you.”

  Mrs. Kent’s brow furrowed. “It wouldn’t be ideal, but…the children do know each other very well. It could be a match.”

  Sylvie couldn’t take it anymore. “I can’t believe I’m actually hearing this. Alec and I are not getting married because we fell asleep in a room alone together. It’s preposterous.” She headed to the door. “I’m going to the kitchen to get some breakfast, then I’m putting work clothes on. I’m going over to the Kent house and help with cleanup and the windows.”

  She knew it wasn’t the best response she could have given, but it also wasn’t the worst. She’d do something productive while they tossed around old-fashioned ideas.

  “Sylvie,” her grandfather barked her name.

  She stopped at the door.

  “This discussion isn’t over,” he said.

  “Yes, it is.” Sylvie walked out.

  * * * *

  “You have no bloody sense,” Mr. Kent said as they continued their walk back to the house. “What were you thinking? Her grandparents are going to expect you to marry her, do you realize that?”

  Alec wished he’d left the cottage last night. Wished he’d never laid down on the bed with Sylvie. He couldn’t change a damn thing now.

  “Don’t be daft, Father. I’m not marrying her. She wouldn’t have me even if I asked.”

  His father made a disgusted sound. “And you don’t be flippant with me. I won’t have it. This is a royal mess. These people have taken us in after a bombing, and we have to live with them. They are certainly going to demand that you marry her.”

  “Father, Sylvie and I are adults. We can’t be forced to marry.”

  “No, but I can assure you that this damages your relationship with your family when you pull stupid stunts like this.”

  Alec grunted as an aching disappointment filled his center. It was always like this with his father. “Stunts?”

  “If you hadn’t acted like an imbecile egging on Sylvie when you were younger—”

  Alec growled, “Don’t you dare blame my blind eye on her. She isn’t to blame for that.”

  “I don’t blame her, I blame you.”

  “All right, why don’t we just stop right here and get it out on the table, shall we?”

  Red-hot anger boiled beneath the surface of Alec’s tolerance. He stopped on the path and glared at his father.

  Alec’s father planted his hands on his hips. “Get what out on the table?”

  “The fact that you’re disappointed in me, the fact I didn’t become a lawyer. The fact you’ve been disappointed in me since the day I was born.”

  His father blinked. “What?”

  Alec kept his voice cool and low despite the heat he felt. “I’m not my brother. I can’t fly for the Royal Air Force and shoot down Jerry. All I can do is fight the fires burning down all of bloody London.”

  “Don’t start that nonsense, Alec.”

  Alec grunted. “Right. Nothing ever changes, does it? I express an opinion or how I feel about something and it’s nonsense.”

  His father’s eyes went hard with disapproval. “Now you’re living in a fantasy. I’ve never done any of those things.”

  Alec laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Well, I’ve had a revelation just now, Father. I refuse to be concerned about whether you approve of me anymore. I’m not going to do it.”

  Father’s face hardened into ice. “You owe me some loyalty.”

  Alec snorted. “Why? Because you’re my father?”

  “Not just that.” Father pointed at his own chest. “If you’ve had any success during this war, it’s because of me.”

  Alec rolled his gaze to the sky for a moment. “What are you talking about?”

  Father’s mouth was a tight line slashed across his angry countenance. “I’m the one that made sure you got the position with the AFS, for God’s sake.”

  Suspicion boiled up inside Alec, along with fear. Stark, raving fear that came from a primitive place inside him. “What do you mean?”

  Father lowered his voice. “I called some people in London. My connections made sure that they accepted you into the AFS.”

  Two emotions poured into Alec simultaneously. Disbelief and anger. “That’s rubbish. I passed the physical. I proved myself.”

  Alec’s father crossed his arms over his chest. “Wouldn’t matter. I called in some favors, and that’s the real reason you got on to the AFS, plain and simple.”

  Alec searched his father’s eyes for a lie and didn’t see one. Alec drew one hand down his face. “My God. My God.”

  What else could he say? Struck speechless for a moment, he simply watched his parent. Alec thought he saw a mom
ent’s regret in his father’s face, but at this point he didn’t care.

  Alec was half tempted to rage at his father or to walk away, or to do both. “Why did you do that? Why?”

  “Because you’ve been half useless around this house. It was time you contributed to the war effort, and when you expressed interest in the AFS, I knew I had to do something that got you away from Huntingdon. Your mother fought the idea, I must tell you, so whatever you do, don’t blame her. She fears for your safety every single day. I swore her to secrecy.”

  Alec swallowed hard. “Wonderful. My whole family conspires against me.”

  “Against you?” Father’s voice turned louder. “We were trying to help you. I got you the position you claimed to want. Don’t be ungrateful.”

  Alec had never cursed so strenuously to his father’s face, but now he couldn’t hold it in. “That is plain bollocks, Father, and you know it. You aren’t doing this to help me. You did it to suit you because I didn’t want to become a solicitor or barrister. Your son has to measure up to some artificial sum of accountability and nobility. But he’s a cripple, so we have to help poor Alec to save face, don’t we?”

  Alec walked away, taking a different path that led directly into the garden. He needed to calm down before he returned and faced the wrath of Sylvie’s grandparents. He couldn’t abandon her for long—she’d faced them alone. Turmoil boiled beneath his surface as he wondered how a simple weekend trip to the country had resulted in two revelations. One that his father and mother had deceived him, and that he had far deeper feelings for Sylvie than he wanted to have.

  After finding a bench behind one hedgerow, he sank down and put his head in his hands. Right now he did feel like a bloody sod, a man who didn’t know which way was up. He’d kissed Sylvie last night, and if he hadn’t stopped, he wondered what would have happened between them. Would she have slept with him? Made love to him? His body yearned for the idea, and no matter how he tried to rationalize that it was simply a man and a woman wanting physical release, he could no longer deny what motivated him to kiss her in the first place.

  He’d ached for it. Wanted it for so long he couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t wanted to kiss her. She meant more to him than any woman he knew, and it drove him crazy to think she might find James Pendleton attractive. Another American. It would make sense, wouldn’t it? He’d told Sylvie himself that she’d leave after the war and that would be it. They’d be separated again by an ocean and priorities.