All You Could Ask For

by Angeline Fortin

  “Terrified?” Maggie cut in with a smug smile, pleased to have her suspicions validated.

  “Well, yes, I suppose so,” was her daughter’s grudging admission.

  Maggie wrapped a maternal arm around Kitty’s shoulders and gave her an affectionate squeeze. “While it would be pleasing to have you marry a high title as well, what I really want now is for my daughters to be happy. As you said, Eve has found her happiness but I want you to have yours as well. It is clear you love Haddington and, to me, it is equally clear he loves you in return.”

  “He left me, Mother,” she reminded once more.

  “And, as I said, you should have gone with them and fought for him.”

  “Open pursuit would only make Jack run harder, Mother. He’s just not the marrying sort. Even if he knew he could have all my money…” Kitty stopped with a sigh and shook her head. “No, I would never tell him. If he were ever to want my hand in marriage, I’d rather he did it without knowing it was a hand that held a fortune.”

  “A Preston would never give in so easily,” Maggie chided. “Your father fought his way up from nothing to become one of the wealthiest men in New York. He fought from the lowest rung of Society to marry a woman most considered out of his reach and, I assure you, it did not go easily for him. Are you, Lelan Preston’s daughter, truly going to sit there and tell me that you have given up?”

  I am a Preston! The words came back to her, much as they had when she had arrived in Scotland a shadow of the woman she was raised to be. When had a Preston ever failed to fight back from certain defeat? It had taken years for her to remember who she was and fight back against Freddie, to fight for her divorce. Was she truly going to let years go by before she fought for Jack?

  A fire lit her eyes and, though she said nothing, Maggie noted the look and smiled with satisfaction. “I have a mind to see my next grandchild born,” she said casually, as if she hadn’t just incited a riot in Kitty’s conscience. “It occurred to me that Evelyn gave birth to my first grandchild without her mother being there for her, and I’ve decided I simply cannot allow another to pass. I’ve heard Scotland is lovely this time of year.”

  Kitty met her mother’s amused gaze with a raised brow. “Where would you have heard that, Mother? I’ve heard it gets damn cold fairly early in Scotland.”

  Maggie waved a dismissive hand. “I guess one must simply discover the truth for oneself then. Evelyn tells me those new Anchor Line steamships are most luxurious as well.”

  “All the comforts of home.”

  “I do so hate to travel alone, though.”

  Kitty’s lips twitched sardonically. “Are you actually going to try to get me to travel to Scotland on such a feeble premise, Mrs. Preston?”

  “Is it really going to require more, Mrs. Hayes?” Maggie raised a haughty brow.

  “My name is Preston, Mother.”

  Maggie clasped her daughter to her, whispering in her ear, “I know it is, darling.”

  Chapter 41

  The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost.

  ~ G.K. Chesterton

  Carlton Terrace

  Edinburgh, Scotland

  October 1892

  Jack took another long pull on his whiskey as he stared down at the thick paperboard rectangle he held in his hands for what seemed to be the thousandth time since his return to Scotland. If Kitty meant this gift to be a constant reminder of her, she certainly succeeded, for he knew he would never look upon another woman with desire when he could look at this instead. This photograph of Kitty.

  It was a pose he’d seen of some famous actresses on the cards often included with cigars, but never had he seen a photograph of a lady in so provocative a pose. Kitty laid on her back a chaise longue. She wasn’t looking at the camera but rather up at the ceiling, her unbound hair spread like flowing honey about her and an indefinable expression visible on her face even in profile. Her long neck arched back a bit and she had one arm thrown over her head while the other was wrapped around her waist. From there down, her hips and legs were turned to the side toward the camera, with the lower leg straight and the other bent, accenting the rounded curve of her hip and hiding her most private place.

  This was a good thing, because Kitty was nude in the picture.

  Not technically nude. She wore a thin black silken dressing gown that was held closed only by the hand at her waist. At the front, a wide, plunging V exposed the flesh of much of her chest and just a curve of her breasts. Even through the gown, despite the sepia tones of the photograph, he could see the rosy flush of her skin, the upward rise of her breasts, the darker tips and the shadows just beneath. Her top leg broke through the lower portion of the robe and crossed over the other. His thumb absently stroked the bared flesh of her thigh and down to her bare foot, remembering the silky feel of her soft skin.

  His breath caught in his throat again for Kitty gave every impression of a woman recently spent of passion.

  Just looking at the photograph made Jack long to stoke those fires once more.

  He had been speechless for almost an hour when he first opened it in his stateroom aboard the Germanic, staring down with shock at her bare flesh. Instantaneous arousal followed and sprang to life with each subsequent viewing. After the shock had worn off, he wondered where she’d had it taken and when…and what she had been thinking when she did it, for Kitty Hayes was a modest woman in public and there was not an ounce of that to be found here. Imagining her lying nude in the presence of another man prompted a rush of jealous frustration.

  It never lasted long, though, for usually he was too taken by the sensual portrait to think of anything but her.

  Pulling the note that accompanied the photograph out of his pocket, he unfolded the worn creases and once again read the words she had written, baring her soul to him:

  I’ve always been a dreamer, Jack. Perhaps I’ve read too much poetry, too many novels, I don’t know.

  But, of late, I dream that you love me, that you want to share a life with me. That you somehow feel for me what I feel for you. I imagine a life for us together.

  Not a perfect, fantasy life, but a life full of substance and meaning that is never dull. Life full of the adventure of discovering one another and a whole new world with each other. A world with its doors wide open to us where there is adventure and excitement around every turn.

  Not a life of complacency. I want a life where there will always be fire and passion. The intrigue of discovering new facets of each other. A new piece to the larger puzzle. I want us to always sense the mystery in each other. To spark each other’s wit, to make each other laugh, to find out what pleases and displeases. To find out what makes us tick.

  To wander through the course of my life wondering what I ever did to deserve the love you gave me in that dream.

  And when the dream is over, I’d like to spend my last sunrise on that bench overlooking the ocean with you, just holding your hand.

  Dreams seldom become reality and I accept that, but please remember I love you, Jack, and that I will miss you always…

  Dreams. Her dreams, his romantic lass. When he first read her note, he had been aghast at the flowery prose for normally such swill turned his stomach. That had been followed by astonishment for her boldness and daring.

  Good God, but she was fearless. No woman he had ever known would dare to express such sappy, sentimental rubbish to a man like him. And for Kitty to have come so far from the lass who shrank from his touch when he first met her. Between the photograph and her note, she had certainly lost all inhibitions.

  And he liked it very much.

  After that shock had worn off, he began to analyze the words, picturing her as she wrote them, imaging her heartache as she did. He knew he had quite broken her heart despite her assurances that she expected nothing of him. Any woman would expect a response to a heart laid bare. And he had not given it to her. Instead, he had boarded a ship and sailed away. Slinked away like a pup with his tail
between his legs.

  Because he didn’t feel the same way. Because he was Haddington. A man who’d seduced his way through Scotland always taking, never giving. He didn’t spout romantic drivel. He didn’t trail after women like he was a hound after a bitch in heat. He maintained control from start to finish.

  Until one fair lassie took all that control from him.

  Until one fair lassie’s written words roused him into feeling every soulful sentence like a fist clenching painfully around his heart.

  As MacKintosh had said, he was a fool. He had been wrong to leave her. He should have at least begged her to come back with him. There was no other woman like Kitty Hayes. He knew he should have realized it right from the beginning. Perhaps he had been too taken by her beauty and her bank account to see it straight away. The friendship that had so quickly taken hold should have been another clue, an obvious indication that there was something special about her when before women rarely held any lasting interest. If he hadn’t been able to see past any of those things, who could expect him to realize his own feelings had gone even farther?

  Jack groaned, holding his head in his hands.

  “Bugger me, but I miss you, lass.” He broke the oppressive silence of the drawing room, his words echoing off the bare walls. “What a fool am I, my love? I wanted something from you, and I received it.” His dark gold eyes were dry and stinging. “But what I wanted was not what I truly desired. I lost you before I realized what it was, what I truly wanted from you.”

  And what was that, Jack?

  Good God, he was hearing her voice now.

  Jack shook his head, pushing his glass of whiskey away with a nudge of his finger. He really must stop drinking if he were to maintain his sanity. Even so, he knew now what needed to be done.

  What he needed to do.

  He needed to go back.

  He needed to find her, fall at her feet, and beg her forgiveness.

  “Jack?”

  “Bugger me, I must be dreaming, or have I gone mad?”

  “‘There is a pleasure sure in being mad which none but madmen know’,” Kitty’s voice sounded again close behind him, and he turned in surprise to see her smiling down at him.

  He stared at her in astonishment, realizing she was real and present. His heart pounded frantically against his ribcage as he stood, coming around the chair to stand before her, casually stuffing his hands in his pockets lest he reach out and touch her to make sure she was real. His eyes roamed her hungrily from head to toe as he realized a photograph was no substitution for the real thing. She was so incredibly lovely. Sensual. Alluring.

  God but he had missed her.

  Chapter 42

  Equal to the gods seems to me

  that man who sits facing you

  and hears you nearby sweetly speaking

  and softly laughing.

  This sets my heart to fluttering in my breast

  for when I look on you a moment,

  then I can speak no more,

  but my tongue falls silent,

  and at once a delicate flame

  courses beneath my skin,

  and with my eyes I see nothing,

  and my ears hum,

  and a cold sweat bathes me,

  and a trembling seizes me all over,

  and I am paler than grass,

  and I feel that I am near death.

  ~ Sappho

  “Shakespeare?”

  “Drysden,” she corrected, her eyes wary as she took in his casual posture.

  “Of course,” he drawled nonchalantly, though his eyes continued to feast upon her, taking in every detail of her appearance from the elaborate twist of her hair to the paleness of her cheeks to the fact that she was wearing an elegant blue tea gown instead of black mourning. “What are you doing here, Kitty?”

  “Eve wanted to invite you over for dinner this evening. I told her I would bring the invitation.” She shrugged just as coolly, though her heart was pounding so frantically she was certain he could see it. “I needed a bit of exercise.”

  “Nay, I mean what are you doing here in Scotland?” he amended, even though he knew she was aware of the true question from the first.

  “Oh, well Mother decided she simply must be with Evie for this pregnancy since she missed the whole of her first one.”

  “And you just decided to come along?”

  “Yes.”

  “…to keep her company?”

  “No.”

  “Then why?”

  “Why do you think?”

  Hope flared brightly in Jack’s heart, but he tamped it down, not wanting to make any assumptions, asking instead, “How long have you been here?”

  “Just a few moments.” She bit back a grin when he raised a brow. “Four days.”

  “That long?” he murmured, wondering how it was even possible she had been so close, and he didn’t know it. “How did you know where to find me?”

  “Eve told me. As I said, she wants you to come to dinner. She said you’ve become a veritable hermit these past several weeks.”

  “Of course, she did.”

  “She also told me the two of you have become rather good friends in the past few months.”

  “We have.” He nodded. “She’s been helping me make some upgrades and improvements to Glen Sannox House, as well as locating the original furnishings and paintings or finding similar ones.”

  Kitty stared at him, waiting, hoping for something more from him. Anything that might indicate that he missed her, wanted her, or felt anything for her like what her mother assured her he felt. She’d been in Edinburgh for four days, after travelling weeks to get here, and all she got for her efforts was this insanely mild conversation. And even for that, she’d had to come to him since he had failed to show himself at Glenrothes’ townhouse. Her chest tightened and she had to blink back the stinging in her eyes.

  It was all for nothing. Her mother and Eve were completely wrong.

  “Well, as I said, Eve wanted to make sure that you came for dinner tonight, so now that I’ve delivered her message, I’ll go.” She turned on her heel and strode back into the hall and quickly down the stairs into the foyer. There was no lighting here either, but the sun beamed brightly through the large window over the door, casting its rays down upon her. The cheerful sunlight was so at odds with the gloom that descended over her that Kitty felt God was mocking her in that moment.

  She moved quickly across the space, reaching the door. But just as her hand touched the knob, a bleak voice broke the silence.

  “Please, dinnae go.”

  She turned to see Jack at the top of the stairs staring down at her, though he was so cast in shadows that she could barely make him out. “Why not?”

  “I haven’t seen ye for months.”

  “By your own choice.”

  Jack was strangled by the cacophony of emotions raging through him. So confusing were they, all jumbled together, he had been trying to sort them out since he turned and saw her standing before him. Obviously, he hadn’t said the right thing, but for a man who had never truly spoken of tenderness, he didn’t really know what the right thing was. He might have acknowledged that he needed to find her again but hadn’t developed that conclusion into the words he needed as yet.

  “This is my new home,” he offered inanely as he came slowly down the stairs toward her. As he came into the light, his gold eyes blazed down at her intensely. “Do ye like it?”

  Kitty gave a cursory glance around the hall, noting the sparseness, the hollow emptiness. “Very nice. The details are delightful. It’s a bit lacking in furniture…and staff.”

  “I had thought to let my wife decorate it to her liking. To hire her own staff.”

  Only now, in this moment, did he realize the truth of those words, and know she was the reason he purchased this place and let it sit empty. What his unconscious plan had been since the moment their ship had docked.

  “You’re getting married?” Her heart seized p
ainfully. She’d waited too long.

  “I hope to soon. I’ve been thinking of proposing for some time now. I bought this house because every woman likes a home of her own and Glen Sannox isn’t ready yet.”

  Kitty turned away and put a trembling hand on the knob, eager to run away, but almost immediately she felt his hands on her arms stopping her.

  He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I also thought my bride might like to live close to her sister.”

  Anticipation burst within her. She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his body pressed against her once more, she waited for him to say something more. To say the words she longed to hear.

  But instead he said only, “Do you know what MacKintosh told me when we sailed out of New York?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “He told me I was an utter arse.”

  Kitty snorted softly as Jack turned her in his arms and tilted her chin back so that he might meet her eyes as he confessed, “I am an arse, Kitty. A fool” His throat worked for several moments as if he were struggling with himself.

  “Why don’t you tell me what you really want from me?” When Jack frowned in confusion, she hastened to clarify. “When I came in you were talking to yourself. You said you realized what you wanted from me.”

  “The note ye wrote.” He paused to lift her chin tenderly when she blushed and ducked her head. “Nay, dinnae turn away. This note ye wrote…” He surprised her by opening his hand and revealing it to her. “It was like a blow to the head, so powerfully did it affect me. It was as if my own heart spoke through yer words. My own dreams—the ones I dinnae even realize I had—were revealed to me.”

  “What are you saying, Jack?”

  “I’m saying I was a fool.”

  “You already said that. What are you saying now?”

  “I want to live yer dream with you, my love.” Her eyes flashed, making his heart soar, but doubts crept in. “Ye said ye love me before. Ye said it in this note. Do ye still?”