“Then we’re not on different sides.” She took the brandy bottle from him. “Don’t drink any more of that stuff. Just go to bed and sleep it off.” She touched the toweling robe. “This is wet.”
“I put it on straight after a shower.”
“The sooner you get it off, the better.” She viewed him, seeming to realize for the first time that he was naked under the robe. “Put your pajamas on.”
“You sound like a nanny,” he complained.
“I feel like one. You need looking after, or you’ll catch a chill after being out so long in the rain. Don’t just lie down in that damp robe.”
“All right.” He drew the edges together. “I’ll change after you’ve gone.”
“Mind you do. Good night.”
“Good night.”
When she’d gone he closed his eyes, trying to find the strength to get up and change. His head was swimming, as well as aching, and his limbs had turned to lead, but he knew he mustn’t fall asleep in the wet robe. He heard her voice saying, “Put your pajamas on.” Interfering woman.
But she’d been kind and gentle, too, and that had soothed him. Like a nanny-or like a mother. His own mother had died too long ago for him to remember her clearly, but he was sure she’d cared for him like that.
But suppose it was no more than a trick to undermine him? Better be careful. Yet it hurt unaccountably to think badly of her.
He opened his eyes and closed them again at once. He would just lie down for a second, to give himself the strength to get up and change his clothes. The pillow was blessedly smooth under his cheek. It was only for a moment…just a moment…
He slept.
Chapter Five
Gavin awoke to a shocked recollection of everything that had passed the night before. The brandy had fuddled his mind then, but now the memory was devastatingly clear of how she had come into his room and held his hand and lured him into lowering his guard.
Perhaps she hadn’t deliberately lured him, he thought, trying to be fair. Perhaps he’d done it himself, but the result was the same. He’d allowed her to see past the armor of reticence that was his only defense and discover his weakness. Whatever her apparent sympathy, at heart they were still opponents, and he’d yielded to her spell like a heartsick boy. Shivers of shame went through him.
Throwing back the covers he discovered something that appalled him still further. He was wearing his pajamas. Searching his mind frantically, he was unable to recall putting them on. His last memory was of lying down on top of the bed in the damp robe. But the robe had now vanished.
A search revealed it on a hanger behind the bathroom door. Norah must have returned, gone through his dresser to find his night wear, stripped the robe off him and somehow managed to get the pajamas on. And he’d been drunk enough to sleep through it all.
He knew he should be grateful. He took cold easily, and if he’d slept in the wet robe he would have developed a nasty chill. But for the moment all he could think of was the sheer effrontery of the woman who had dared to strip him naked while he was unaware. The fact that it was his own fault only made her crime more unforgivable.
As he dressed he reflected that it wasn’t too late. When he looked into her eyes the consciousness would be there, but if he kept the consciousness out of his own eyes it would die in hers. What he didn’t remember couldn’t be used against him.
He had a moment’s distress at what he was going to do. The memory of feminine warmth and kindness was so alluring that he was almost tempted to yield to it. But that was exactly what she wanted him to do. He must never forget that such thoughts were dangerous, never forget to be on his guard against her.
But with all his heart he wished it weren’t necessary.
Norah came into the house from her early morning rounds of the animals. Peter had been out with her, conscientiously performing all his tasks. He’d long ago absorbed the only discipline that counted in the sanctuary, that the care of the animals came first. Your heart might be broken, you might be dying inside, but the helpless creatures who depended on you still had to be fed and cared for. It had given him a maturity well beyond his ten years, and she guessed that at this moment it gave him strength.
She could only guess, because even with her he was silent, although he would sometimes press close to her. In the last few days the only time she’d heard him speak had been when he whispered, “Goodbye, Daddy” in the chapel. And when Gavin had pushed past them and stridden out of the chapel, Peter had turned his gaze up to her as if seeking reassurance. She’d hated Gavin at that moment, and she’d hated him even more when he didn’t come back for the rest of the day. She’d gone to his room still hating him, but there she’d found a drenched, desperate man who’d turned to the bottle to assuage his pain. The fact that he couldn’t cope with the brandy had been a gleam of vulnerability that had helped soften her.
She’d found herself forgetting their enmity and striving to comfort him. He’d called her a nanny, and she’d agreed. It had been the instinct that had made her return later to make sure he was all right, only to discover him asleep on top of the bed, still wearing the damp robe. She’d tried to awaken him, but he’d been very deeply asleep, and at last she’d taken action, finding his pajamas and maneuvering him into them. It had been difficult to cope with his deadweight, but not as difficult as she’d feared. She was strong and there was muscle but no fat on his long bones, and the feel of his flesh had been firm and smooth against her hands.
The memory of that came back to her now, along with the sight of his smooth chest and lean hips, and suddenly she felt her whole body suffused with warmth. The sensation took her by surprise. She lived so close to nature that physical embarrassment was almost unknown to her, and for a moment she wondered what was happening. Then she remembered how he’d fallen against her while she was putting on his jacket, how his head had rested against her breasts, and how sweet the feeling had been.
She made herself coffee and was sitting in the kitchen sipping it when the sound of Gavin’s footsteps made her jump. She looked up as he came in, but the smile died on her face as she saw the chilly distance in his eyes. “Good morning,” he said distantly.
“Good morning,” she said, watching him.
“I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have walked out of the funeral like that, but…” he shrugged, “things got a bit much for me. Did it cause much trouble at the reception?”
“No, I…explained that you’d been under a lot of strain.” Norah spoke slowly as it dawned on her that they’d covered the same ground last night.
“Thank you. I suppose I should tell you where I went.”
“There’s no need,” she said significantly.
“You’re entitled to an explanation,” he said coolly. “I took a long walk to clear my head. I went down to the shore and walked out in the direction of the sea. By the time I came back it was pouring with rain and I got soaked. I should have told you I was back, but I didn’t want to risk taking cold, so I went straight to bed.”
Norah took a deep breath before making her voice carefully neutral. “That’s perfectly all right. I hope you’re all right this morning.”
“Fine, thank you. Can you tell me where Peter is? I should say something to him.”
“What are you going to say?” she asked quietly.
“I’m going to apologize to him, of course. What happened wasn’t his fault.”
“I’m glad you realize that.”
He looked at her angrily. “Credit me with some understanding. He’s only a little boy, and a very unhappy one. I’m not going to pile a lot of emotional pressure on him…” he checked himself, drew a swift breath, and walked out. Norah stared after him, astounded at hearing her own words quoted back to her, and wondered how much, if anything, Gavin really remembered about last night.
Gavin found his son feeding Buster and Mack. He approached him slowly and with caution. He seemed to have stripped away an outer skin this morning, and to have a new sensitivity. It told him now that Peter was conscious of him long before he seemed to be, and full of tension. At last the child looked up. “Are you all right?” Gavin
