Chapter 9
He whistled as he entered the lofty foyer of the farmhouse.
He could not help himself. He was limber and relaxed after the bout of insane lovemaking last night.
And he was also late. It bothered him a little, but not enough for him to feel guilty.
If he could have persuaded that stubborn woman of his to take the day off and play hooky, he would have done just that and spent the day in bed with her.
A grin split his face at the thought of her wrapped around him, naked and weak from desire.
That was how his grandmother saw him as she descended the stairs.
Elizabeth had time to observe before he noticed her and what she saw pleased her immensely.
He had casually mentioned that he wouldn't be home for the night, and they had not pressed him.
Now he was strolling in at almost a quarter past eight and looking rumpled and radiating with happiness.
She was not too old to recognize the look of a well-satisfied man.
He looked up then as she reached the last two steps.
"Babushka." His slightly accented voice warmed her to the very bones. "I was just about to go and get ready to take care of the seedlings."
"No hurry." She slid her hand through his arm and turned him in the direction of the sunny yellow salon.
"Celeste, please bring us some refreshments," she told the maid before turning to her grandson. "I already had breakfast, but I could use a bit of sustenance."
He placed his hand over hers and courteously guided her to a plush Victorian chair facing the crackling fire and overlooking her beloved greenhouse. She was dressed for her sojourn outside in faded jeans and a thick emerald green sweater that brought out the color of her eyes.
"Now darling." She gestured for him to have a seat. "How serious is it?"
He selected a comfortable rocker and stretched his legs out. The time had come to make his intentions clear. "I'm assuming you already know where I spent the night."
A smile curved her lips as she studied him. "How's the darling Allison?"
He grinned at her. "On her way to work. I made her late, so she's more than a little annoyed with me.
I prepared her some breakfast." He shrugged broad shoulders and settled more comfortably in the chair.
"Well, not prepared really. I took some items over last night.
" He paused a second before adding, "I broke into her house. "
Instead of being shocked, a delighted laugh erupted from the tiny woman across from him and tugged a smile from his lips.
"How romantic."
"She did not think so," he mused, recalling how she had almost brained him with a can of corn, or was it peas? He shook his head. "She was justifiably mad."
The tray was wheeled in at that point and he waited for the maid to leave and close the door behind her.
"Of course she was. You violated her home." She gave him a speculative look as she poured tea and felt the warmth spreading throughout her body. The baby of her baby was going to stay in the States. She could see the look on his face, the same one her girl had when she met his father.
He grinned a little sheepishly, a gesture she found unbelievably charming.
"She made her opinion of what I did abundantly clear." Lifting his hand, he touched the side of his head and could imagine feeling the can connecting. "She's very feisty and very fierce." His eyes darkened. "And also, foolishly brave." He related the scene in the courtroom.
"And of course, you wanted to jump to her rescue." Elizabeth was enjoying the conversation more than the fragrant tea and delicate pastries.
"I wanted to wrap my hands around the woman's neck and squeeze. I did not like seeing her attacked. She still bears the bruises. Foolish woman," he muttered into his cup.
"The unfortunate mother of that poor child or Allison?"
"Allison of course." His eyes danced as he stared at her. "You have not asked me how I feel about her."
"Oh my dear." His grandmother replaced the cup carefully into the saucer. "It's plain as the nose on your face. I saw the same look on your mother's face when she met your father." She sighed. "Does Allison know you're in love with her?"
He had to take a breath. It was something he had been pushing aside to deal with when he was steadier, but now that it was brought out into the open, it could no longer be ignored.
"I do not think so." Putting the cup down, he picked up a cream puff and examined it for a few seconds before taking a bite.
"Invite her to supper."
He glanced at her with a smile. "I would say great minds think alike.
She would take it better coming from you.
I tend to..." He waved a hand. "How do you say?
Pose demands instead of questions. She does not take too kindly to the way I speak to her.
" He shrugged elegantly. "I have to readjust my approach.
She still has not given me a key." He sighed and then smiled.
"Which means breaking and entering again.
" His devastating grin flashed. "I trust you will put up money for my bail if she follows through on her threats to have me thrown in jail. "
She laughed, the sound rich and full. Oh, how she was enjoying the dear boy!
"Absolutely." Her green eyes danced merrily. "I will of course extend the invitation." She rose when he did. "I also suspect we will not be seeing you again tonight?"
"No." Crossing the room, he took her hands in his and bent over to kiss her surprisingly unlined cheek. "You are the best."
She squeezed his hands and felt the moisture gathering at the back of her eyes. "You've made me very happy." She let him go, stopping him when he reached the door. "Darling?"
Turning his head, he looked at her.
"Your father might object. He will not like the idea of you falling in love with an American."
His handsome face hardened, his broad shoulders straightening. "Then he would be labeled a hypocrite. He fell in love with one. Nothing will come between me and the woman who has become the life and soul of me." He blew out his breath. "I did not mean to say such a thing."
"But it's the truth." Elizabeth beamed at him. "I'm happy for you."
As soon as the doors closed behind him, she lowered herself and picked up her cooling tea.
Wrapping her delicate fingers around the cup, she studied the room.
It was done in the palest of yellow and reminded her of the sunflowers she had recently planted.
Yellow and white. The furnishings were antiques and had been sourced from various stores around the country.
A spring wedding, she thought happily. A celebration to beat all celebrations, she decided, already thinking ahead. Her baby was no longer around and that space was always reserved for the darling girl. But her son was filling another emptiness. And he was going to be adding to the family.
Allison Trent was a wonderful woman, and she could not have hoped for better.
Very soon, there would be children running around the rambling farmhouse.
Her eyes touched on the priceless Ming vase, the Faberge eggs, the glass case with the various crystals she had picked up on her travels.
As soon as the children arrived, rearrangements would have to be made.
That would be a minor inconvenience for something of far more significance.
She let her gaze drift from the heirlooms to the sunlit windows, imagining the laughter and energy that would soon fill these quiet spaces.
The thought warmed her heart, promising new memories to be cherished alongside the old.
She could almost hear the echoes of footsteps and joyful shouts, a future painted bright with hope and love.
*****
Oblivious that her life was being carefully charted out, Allison stood inside the courtroom and felt the weariness washing over her.
The judge was being difficult, and she was tempted to risk the slap of contempt charges and tell him what she really thought of him. The man was vacillating and pontificating, going on and on about a mother's right to be in her child's life.
Allison always prided herself on being calm and serene under pressure.
That was the reputation she had gained in her duty as an officer of the court.
She had seen perfectly good cases destroyed by a careless remark or show of temper.
A judge holds a certain amount of power, and it would not do for anyone to disregard that.
She was also aware that some of them abused that power and sat in that lofty chamber, dispensing decisions without first examining all of the avenues.
Judge Patterson had conveniently forgotten that the woman had threatened her, an officer of the court, because Betsy Black had walked into the courtroom looking severely chastised and subdued.
Her lawyer had convinced her to behave submissively and dress the part.
The stringy brown hair was brushed back severely from her bony face, and she was wearing a damned suit.
It was ill-fitted of course, and the gray color made her skin more washed out than usual.
But it served its purpose. The idiot judge was eating up every lying word coming from her mouth as she stood there apologizing and squeezing tears from her eyes. She saw the look on Simon's face, the look of abject terror at the idea that he would have to go back home with her.
The uncle already looked defeated, his face pale and weary. He had confided in her that he was on the verge of losing his job if this wasn't resolved quickly. She was determined not to allow that to happen.