A Mother by Nature

by Caroline Anderson

  The table was crowded, and Anna was more than ever aware of Adam’s long legs tangling with hers every time he moved. Finally the children were finished, and he met her eyes over the litter of dirty plates and cups of fizzy drinks and smiled distractedly.

  ‘We have to get back. We’ve got frozen food in the trolley—or we did have. I expect it’s all thawed by now.’

  She nodded, conscious of a silly little spurt of disappointment. Of course he had to go—Jasper was yawning, Skye was bored and uneasy, and they couldn’t possibly sit there all night. She conjured a bright smile. ‘Yes, you’d better get back. Thank you so much for asking me to join you. I enjoyed it.’

  He gave a disbelieving snort of laughter. ‘You’re too polite. Come on, kids, on your pins, let’s make a move.’

  She followed him out of the shop, looking like the Pied Piper with the children trailing behind him raggedly. Jasper kept wanting to look at things, and had to be dragged screaming past the little rocket ride just outside the door, with its coaxing invitation, ‘Come on, climb aboard and we’ll head for the skies!’

  ‘I want to have a go!’ Jasper sobbed, and Adam scooped him up into his arms and hugged him, walking resolutely away.

  ‘It’s too late. You can have a go next time. It’s too cold to hang about waiting, and we can’t do everything in one night.’

  ‘Don’t want to do everything! Want to go in the rocket!’

  ‘Jasper, Daddy said no,’ Skye told him firmly, and the screaming subsided to an unhappy sobbing. They paused at the edge of the car park, and Adam rolled his eyes at Anna in mock despair.

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ she said, and he nodded, hesitated a moment and then spoke as if on impulse.

  ‘You could come back for coffee—if you could stand the chaos of bedtime and a house that needs cleaning and decorating from attic to cellar.’

  A slow smile spread over her face. She could stand anything if it meant spending time with him and his family and getting to know him better. ‘I should think I’ll cope with that,’ she said softly.

  ‘Follow me,’ he said.

  Oh, yes, she thought. I’ll follow you. I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth if you ask me to. Just say the word.

  Then she caught the look on Skye’s face, and wondered why the little girl was so unhappy about her presence. She needed to know more about the situation, and perhaps this was one way to find out.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘OH, IT’S gorgeous!’

  Adam looked mildly disbelieving, but Anna shook her head at him and laughed, gazing around, enraptured, at the lovely, welcoming hallway with its high ceilings and gleaming mahogany handrail. ‘It is! It’s truly wonderful—oh, it’s going to be so lovely. It just feels—I don’t know, right.’

  ‘That’s what I felt. It’s why I bought it,’ Adam said with a smile, but then the smile grew wry. ‘Emphasis on “going to be”, though. If and when I ever get the time and the money—not to mention the energy. Right, kids, upstairs and get yourselves ready for bed, please. It’s way past your bedtime. I’ll be up in five minutes.’

  They ran up, and Adam seized several of the shopping bags from the hall floor and headed towards the back of the house. Anna picked up a couple more and followed him.

  ‘You’ll do it—don’t be so defeatist. It’s early days—heavens, most people wouldn’t even have unpacked yet!’

  ‘I haven’t, not entirely. The dining room’s still stacked up with boxes, but they’re mainly books destined for shelves that don’t yet exist and the dining room doesn’t really matter. We don’t exactly dine in style.’

  ‘Shame on you,’ Anna teased, then cocked her head on one side. ‘Can I help?’

  ‘Please—put the kettle on. I just want to put the frozen stuff away and check the kids, then we’ll sit down for a bit of peace and quiet.’

  She looked around at the kitchen. It was lovely, but it needed help. The units were awful, but they were easily replaced, and if the doorway from the breakfast area could be moved to the other side of the chimney breast, then the table could sit by the window and that would be much better.

  The house looked, from the little she’d seen, as if it had been ‘modernised’ in the fifties, and it certainly needed some sympathetic restoration, but the potential was huge. Her curiosity was running riot. What was the rest of the house like?

  ‘Right, that’s that lot. How’s the kettle?’

  ‘Not boiled,’ she told him. ‘Can I have a guided tour?’

  His face fell comically. ‘Oh, lord,’ he groaned, rolling his eyes in obvious embarrassment. ‘I hate to think what a mess it is, and Helle’s rooms will be chaos gone mad.’

  ‘I’m not looking at the mess—I’m looking at the house, at the potential,’ she coaxed, her avid curiosity unwilling to remain unsatisfied. ‘If you really, really mind I’ll let you say no, but I’d love to see it if you can bring yourself to let me.’

  He hovered, just for a second, then squared his shoulders. ‘Oh, what the heck, come on, then. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ he grumbled, and she laughed softly.

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘You can give me some advice. Skye’s bedroom is first on the list, and I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Ask her,’ Anna said promptly, cautious of becoming involved. ‘It’s her room—she’s more than old enough to have ideas.’

  ‘If only she would share them,’ he murmured. ‘Come on, then, let’s get this over with.’

  Anna went up the stairs after him and followed him straight down the landing and into Skye’s bedroom. It was above the kitchen and overlooked the back garden, heavily shadowed now in the dark but fascinating to Anna for all that. She’d glimpsed it from the kitchen and itched to explore it in daylight. Her own garden was tiny, and she’d always thought she’d love a bigger garden. She tried not to envy him.

  Skye was sitting on the bed, still fully dressed, colouring in a book. She glanced up and then looked away, dismissing them.

  ‘I’m showing Anna the house,’ Adam told her. ‘Is it OK to come in?’

  She shrugged.

  ‘I’m sorry, it’s an awful cheek—Skye, do you mind?’ Anna asked, wary of stepping on clearly sensitive little toes.

  She shrugged again, noncommitally, and carried on colouring. Anna looked around. It was desperately in need of love and attention, but it was bigger than Anna’s sitting room, and way bigger than her bedrooms had ever been. There was a pretty little fire-place against one wall, cast iron and delicately patterned inset tiles, and Anna would have given her eye teeth for it as a child. As an adult, in fact!

  ‘What a wonderful room—it’s huge,’ she said with genuine awe. ‘My bedroom at home is much smaller!’

  ‘Before, I had to share with the boys,’ Skye said, clearly impressed that her room was bigger than Anna’s. ‘Well, after she went. First I had the little room, but then the au pairs had it.’

  Au pairs? As in, lots of them? Of course, they didn’t come for long, Anna thought, and wondered if ‘she’ was their mother. Inevitably. And she’d gone somewhere. Where? It was suddenly a minefield, and she picked her way through it with enormous care.

  ‘Do you know what you want to do with it now you’ve got such a lovely room?’ Anna asked her. ‘It’s all yours—it must be wonderful, I should think, to be able to choose.’

  Skye shrugged. ‘Don’t know.’ She seemed to withdraw into herself then, as if too much attention was focused on her, and Anna gave a slight smile and moved further away, giving her room.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll have lots of fun deciding. I always think that’s the best bit.’ She turned towards Adam and pushed him gently towards the door. ‘Come on, let’s leave her in peace. I want to see the rest. What’s next?’

  He showed her the loo and bathroom, both in need of tidying up and probably refitting in a more sympathetic style than the ugly suite that was there. Still, it worked, she supposed, except for the dripping tap, alth
ough an Edwardian original would have been more attractive.

  ‘I’m going to refit it when I get time,’ he told her. ‘I thought I might rearrange it to fit a loo in here as well—it seems silly not to have one in the bathroom, and there’s tons of room.’

  ‘Can you do plumbing?’ she asked, impressed, and he laughed.

  ‘Me? I’m an orthopaedic surgeon, don’t forget. I’m a dab hand with a saw and a screwdriver, and I’m good at plugging vascular leaks, too.’

  ‘Hmm. Let’s just hope your pipes heal,’ she said with a smile, and he chuckled.

  ‘They won’t need to. You wait, it’ll be perfect. Come and see the rest.’

  He took her into the boys’ room, and they were much more welcoming and extrovert than Skye had been. She was shown their toys, and how each of them had their own space in a corner of the even bigger room, and they bounced around and generally didn’t look ready for bed.

  ‘Your teacher’s going to complain about you being too tired in the morning, Danny,’ Adam threatened mildly, but he didn’t seem to be worried. ‘Come on, into your pyjamas, wash your faces and clean your teeth, boys, please,’ he said with more firmness, and they grumbled off to the bathroom, leaving Adam and Anna to finish the house tour.

  ‘I don’t think we should look at Helle’s rooms while she’s out,’ Adam said thoughtfully, pausing at the foot of the attic stairs. ‘It doesn’t seem right.’ He hesitated just a fraction, then shot her a crooked little smile. ‘That just leaves mine.’

  He opened the door behind him, walked in and groaned softly. Anna went up on tiptoe and peered over his shoulder.

  ‘So you didn’t make the bed—so what?’ she said, and nudged him gently through the doorway. He moved out of her way, letting her see the full extent of the room, and it took her breath away.

  It was lovely. Well, no, it was a mess. The walls needed papering, the curtains were ghastly, the carpet was in shreds and the colour scheme seemed to have been put together by a committee. Mentally, she painted it a soft, pale ivory cream. White, but not white. Restful. Tranquil.

  Neutral carpet—jute, perhaps? Off-white curtains, soft and diaphanous, drifting in the warm spring breeze. Pale ivory bedlinen, a duvet like a cloud of thistledown—and Adam, reaching out for her.

  She realised she was staring at the bed, picturing him in it, picturing them in it. Together. The crumpled sheets and tumbled quilt sprang into focus, and she could see the imprint of his head on one of the pillows. Her breath jammed in her throat and she looked round a little wildly.

  A door caught her eye. ‘What’s in there?’ she asked, desperate for something else to think about—anything else except that rumpled, evocative bed!

  ‘The shower room.’

  ‘May I?’ Anna crossed to it without waiting for his permission, opened the door and found herself in a narrow little room, functional but tired. She turned and smacked straight into his chest, her hands flying up to act as buffers.

  They landed lightly on Adam’s ribcage, splayed out over the broad expanse of bone and muscle that her fingers itched to explore, and with a tiny sigh she stepped back and dropped her hands. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured.

  She glanced up at him, and her eyes locked with his. They were burning, dark and smoky, and sending a thousand conflicting messages.

  ‘Anna?’ he said softly.

  She could never work out afterwards which one of them moved first, but somehow they ended up together, her hands pillowed lightly on his chest again, his hands coming up to frame her face with gentle, reverent fingers that drew her closer.

  His mouth hovered for an instant, then he closed his eyes and lowered his head that last, tiny distance.

  Heat. So much heat, so carefully controlled. His lips were soft, feather-light, coaxing and promising, and Anna felt need rip through her like a tidal wave. Her fingers curled, clinging to him, bunching his sweater in both hands and hanging on for dear life.

  Of their own accord her lips parted, and with a soft sigh he traced the moist inner edge of her mouth with his tongue.

  It wasn’t enough. Holding his sweater wasn’t enough. She dropped it, sliding her arms up and locking them behind his head, drawing him down closer. Her body arched against his, and with a ragged sigh he wrapped his arms around her, cupping her bottom and lifting her against the cradle of his thighs.

  ‘Anna,’ he groaned, and his mouth took hers, finally given free rein.

  It was glorious. She lost touch with everything except the feel of his body hard and needy against hers, as needy as her own, aching and longing and desperate.

  Then abruptly, without warning, Adam lifted his head and released her, backing away. His eyes were tortured, the hard planes of his cheeks drawn taut with emotion.

  ‘The children,’ he muttered unsteadily, and she became dimly aware of the boys screaming and Skye reasoning with them.

  What had they been thinking about? ‘You’d better go and sort them out,’ she said in a voice that didn’t quite seem to belong to her.

  He rammed his hands in his pockets and stepped back further, tipping his head back and dragging in lungfuls of air. ‘I’m sorry,’ he grated, and, turning on his heel, he went out, leaving her alone to gather the shreds of her composure around her.

  She turned slowly, looking at herself in the mirror over the basin. The light was unforgiving, showing clearly her lips, slightly bruised and swollen with passion, her eyes clouded and confused, her skin flushed where his stubble had scraped her.

  She looked definitively kissed, she thought, and the tiny bubble of hysterical laughter broke as a strangled sob. She splashed cold water on her face, blotted it dry with a towel that was still damp—from his shower?

  The thought did nothing for her composure.

  She went back into the bedroom and looked around, and suddenly the bleak emptiness of it struck her like a blow. There was the bed, a simple, ordinary divan with a velvet headboard, a chest of drawers that had seen better days but which with attention could be lovely, a lightweight chair that had a shirt abandoned on it, one sleeve trailing on the floor. And, apart from the fitted cupboards each side of the delicate tiled fireplace, that was it.

  It was a huge room, and it had a bed, a chair and a chest. No pictures, no lamps, no pair of chairs, no his and hers dressing-gowns dropped across the foot of the bed—just the bare essentials for a lonely man struggling to do the best for his family.

  She felt tears welling up to blind her, and dragged in a deep breath to stem them before she made a fool of herself.

  Just in the nick of time. Adam put his head round the door and gave her an apologetic smile. ‘You OK?’ he asked in a gruff undertone.

  Anna nodded. ‘Yes—thanks. Do you need a hand?’

  He shook his head. ‘They’re all done. I’m going to make some coffee, or would you rather have tea?’

  She smiled. ‘Tea, please. I’ll come down.’

  Odd, how one kiss could make so much difference. He hadn’t known what to say to her, and she left just as soon as she’d drunk the tea. He didn’t kiss her goodnight—well, a light brush of his lips over her forehead, all he dared to do for fear of losing control.

  She’d awakened a raging demon in him that screamed for fulfilment, and he needed time to wrestle it back under control before he dared to touch her again.

  He should never have asked her back for coffee. It had been a foolish thing to do, too risky in the raw emotional state he was in. Asking for trouble.

  He went up to his room, uncaring that Helle was still out and would probably wake him yet again on the way in. It seemed unlikely that he would be asleep.

  As he opened the door, he was hit like a sledgehammer by the image of Anna standing there, her arms wrapped tightly round her slender body, her eyes shimmering with tears. He’d wanted to kiss them away, to lay her down on the bed behind her and love her till all her tears were dry and she slept peacefully in his arms.

  The longing ache nearly undid him. He
sagged against the wall, his head dropped back, eyes sightless. All he could see was her mouth, soft and ripe, just before he’d kissed her. He’d felt the soft press of her breasts pillowed against him, and his hands had itched to know them, to feel the heavy fullness of them in his palms, to lower his head and take them in turn into his mouth and suckle her…

  He turned and slammed his fist against the wall in empty frustration. Why here? Why in this room, where nothing would distract him from the memory of her pliant, willing body arching against him?

  He groaned and threw off his clothes, showered—hot water, because he knew it would take the melt waters of the Arctic to make any difference—and crawled into his unmade bed, dragging the quilt up round his shoulders against the cold and burrowing down into the pillows, trying to escape.

  He couldn’t. The image was too powerful, too fresh, too necessary to his starving body for him to let it go.

  So he lay there, thinking of Anna, and even the incessant clamouring of his body couldn’t drown out the empty ache in his heart—an ache that he was suddenly very afraid only she would be able to fill.

  He needed her. In so very many ways, he needed her, but the children came first. They had to.

  For the thousandth time he wondered if he’d done the right thing by them in keeping them, but after nearly a year, how could he have let them go? Almost all of Jasper’s life at the time? The baby hadn’t known anyone else, and Danny had never been more than a couple of feet from him while he’d been awake. Even Skye, terribly wounded by the death of their mother and then Lyn’s defection, had needed him, perhaps in her way even more than the others.

  The last two years had been hard, but they’d got through them together and they were on the mend, all of them. He just had to be there for them, see them through.

  So he had needs, too. Tough. He couldn’t let that alter his course, let it hurt the children, not in any way. They were too precious and vulnerable and utterly dependent on him.

  But the loneliness ate at him, and when Helle’s noisy return woke him in the night his pillow was damp…

  Anna contemplated skiving off.