Hardly words to incite any man’s jealousy.
For five years she’d missed him every day, while Gordon had probably forgotten about her the moment he’d left Adaire Hall.
Every birthday and Christmas for the past three years she’d written him, telling him of life at Adaire Hall, mentioning people he’d known. In that way she’d felt connected to him, even though he’d never written her back. She should never have written him again. Yet if she hadn’t, he wouldn’t be standing only feet away from her.
She was not going to remain here and act the part of lovesick idiot. She had her pride and she was going to wrap it around herself like a shawl before she said or did anything that made her look the fool.
Jennifer looked at Mrs. Thompson. “Is the Blue Suite ready?” she asked, an unnecessary question. All of the guest suites were kept ready in case Harrison arrived with a party of his friends.
During Lauren’s pregnancy, when the poor woman had felt ill most of the time, Jennifer had assumed the role of mistress of the house. In actuality, she’d been the one to whom the servants had come ever since her mother became ill. Harrison, when he was in residence, was too volatile to be dependable. Nor did any of the staff want to be the subject of his rages.
The housekeeper nodded. “Yes, Miss Jennifer.”
If Harrison was here, he would have chastised Mrs. Thompson and the rest of the servants for addressing her so informally. She is Lady Jennifer, he would have said, his booming voice capable of being heard many rooms away. Jennifer preferred the informality. It made her feel as if the staff was an extension of her own dwindling family.
With the birth of Lauren’s child there would be one more Adaire, however. Even if the child’s father wasn’t here to see it.
No one said a word to her about putting Gordon McDonnell in one of their most impressive guest suites. He didn’t look like the gardener’s boy who’d left five years ago. Maybe it was his height or the fact that his shoulders were so broad. Or maybe it had nothing to do with his physical appearance, but simply how he stood there, commanding the foyer.
She hadn’t said one word to him. Nor had he spoken to her.
The girl she’d been, so desperately in love, still lived deep inside her. That girl wanted to banish everyone, go to him, and kiss him in homecoming. He smiled and something bloomed in her chest. A memory, perhaps, or a wish. She wanted to re-create those nights at the loch when they’d been in each other’s arms.
Jennifer wanted, desperately, to touch him, to assure herself that he was real. This wasn’t a dream fervently to be wished for five years.
Gordon was standing only feet from her.
If they’d been alone, she would have gone to him, put her arms around his waist and her cheek against his chest. In that instant all the troubles in her world would have been lifted from her.
Yet would he have welcomed her? Even now he didn’t look pleased to see her.
The smile she determinedly wore was getting more and more difficult to maintain. Tears were just below the surface.
Had his eyes always been that blue? She could see the imprint of the boy’s face in the man, but the man was so much more arresting.
She felt as if she were standing in the middle of a storm happening all around her. She was in an enchanted circle, and although she could see the darkness and the lightning racing from cloud to cloud, nothing touched her or could affect her in any way. Here, there was only stillness and a sense of eerie calm.
“Mrs. Thompson will show you to your room.” There was something wrong with her voice. It sounded thin, as if she were suffering from some malady. A cold, perhaps. That’s what she’d say if questioned.
The majordomo looked at her sharply, then turned his attention to directing the actions of the footmen.
“I know where it is, Jennifer,” Gordon said. “Five years have not made me forget Adaire Hall.”
They’d played in the house on inclement days. As children they’d chased each other—as quietly as possible so as not to disturb her mother. They’d giggled behind their hands and hid in closets. One eventful day Gordon had embraced her, pulled her close and kissed her cheek.
She’d thought about that kiss for days. The next time they were alone in a dark place, she’d stood on tiptoe, put her hands on Gordon’s shoulders, and her mouth on his.
His indrawn breath had startled them both, enough that she’d jumped back.
He might not have forgotten the Hall, but it was obvious that he’d forgotten her.
“Yes, of course,” she said now, hearing the words leave her mouth. She hadn’t the slightest idea how she’d formed them or how the thought had made it from her mind to her lips.
She took a step back, away.
Gordon thanked the people in the foyer, including Mrs. Thompson, nodded to the majordomo, who assured him his valises would be moved to the Blue Suite, then turned and walked back out the front door.
Jennifer watched as he descended the steps, then turned to his left, heading for the head gardener’s cottage.
Since Mrs. Thompson had disappeared, Jennifer guessed that the housekeeper was, even now, inspecting the rooms Gordon would occupy.
Jennifer turned on her heel and left the foyer.
Gordon hadn’t written to tell her he was coming. She should have expected his arrival, of course, especially after her letter telling him about Sean. Perhaps it would be wise to remember that he’d never written her for five years. Five years of silence from him when a simple word would have eased her broken heart.
Now he was home again, but it didn’t look as if anything had changed. He still wasn’t speaking to her.
Chapter Three
Jennifer headed for her suite. Several years ago she’d moved out of the family wing and into one of the older parts of Adaire Hall. In addition to several modifications to her chamber, she had the estate’s carpenters create a doorway to the room next door, expanding it into a sitting area.
Harrison hadn’t seemed to mind. He was so rarely home that she wasn’t even sure he knew what she’d done. He was never involved in the upkeep or the day-to-day maintenance of the house, the grounds, the lands, or even the management of the crofters.
All Adaire Hall was good for was a place to come when he needed to escape some drama in London. She suspected that he had borrowed money against the estate, but she’d never gotten him to admit it. Twice in the last five years they’d had visitors from both Edinburgh and London. The men had all been bankers and they’d inspected the property with the diligence one would expect from an owner. Whenever she’d questioned Harrison about the financial stability of Adaire Hall, he’d responded with anger.
No one raged quite as well as Harrison.
Her brother wore a great many facades, depending on the person and the circumstances. Sometimes, she wondered who he was truly. Did he show his real face to anyone?
Harrison played at being earl, shunning any responsibility in favor of amusements in Edinburgh and London. He spent only a few days each quarter at home, and that only because of their mother. After she died, he hadn’t even pretended to be responsible.
The fact that his wife was due to give birth shortly to his first child hadn’t made Harrison return, but Gordon’s sudden appearance might accomplish that miracle.