Page 58 of Twilight Tides
The only light in the hall came from the moonlight that spilled in from various windows. It was enough to guide me as I crept upstairs, not wanting to wake Kelly or London. I was in the kitchen for a few seconds, had switched on the kettle to boil when I caught sight of a moonlit figure in the music room. Jerking with surprise, I moved forward, blood rushing in my ears, even though I recognized the shape of her from two years of covert glances.
My pulse pounded faster as I leaned against the doorjamb, watching her.
The huge triangular windows and sliding doors flooded the upper rooms with light from the moon so I could see London clearly in perfect light and shadow. She sat on the chair I’d sat in earlier, but her legs were thrown over one arm and she wore headphones that were connected via Bluetooth to my record player and sound system. I didn’t know what she was listening to, but her eyes were closed and she was moving her fingers in the air, almost like she was playing piano chords.
Affection warmed me, but as my gaze caressed the perfect curves of her bare legs, my blood started toheat. She wore only a silky top thing that clung to her breasts and tiny sleep shorts that revealed the smooth length of her toned thighs and calves. She had small feet, dainty even. Every inch of her feminine and soft and …
I couldn’t see any freckles in this light, but I’d bet there were a few in secret places I’d love to kiss.
I wanted to kiss London earlier when she’d promised to gain Kelly’s trust. All through dinner, I was attuned to my wife’s awareness of my daughter. The way she’d opened herself up to Mum and Kelly when I knew that wasn’t easy for her. And I suspected she only did it to help Kelly.
This gorgeous woman was mywife.
Possessiveness tightened in my gut.
Suddenly London’s eyes flashed open, her entire being stiffening as if she’d felt my presence. Her gaze flew to the doorway and she visibly started. “Oh!” She yanked off the headphones. “When did you get here?”
I kept my voice low, even though the likelihood of Kelly hearing us was slim. “A few seconds ago. What are you listening to?”
“Birdy. You have an eclectic music taste, Murray Shaw.”
The corner of my mouth pulled up at her wry tone. “Can’t a fisherman have a sensitive side?”
London smiled, and it hit me deep in my gut. “Apparently, he can. Why are you awake?”
I pushed off the jamb, walking farther into the room. “I was just going to ask you the same thing.”
London’s gaze flickered over my chest before she seemed to look away hurriedly. I glanced down, having forgotten I’d left my bedroom in the tartan pajama bottoms I’d donned earlier. And nothing else. My half-nakedness didn’t bother me, but I didn’t want to make London uncomfortable. I took a step back. “I can return downstairs.”
“No.” She swung her legs off the chair. “Why are you up?”
“Couldn’t sleep. You too?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m making tea with some whisky. Do you want some?”
“That would be great.”
Not long later we sat on opposite ends of the couch in the music room, tea in hand, studying each other curiously over the rim of the mugs.
London took a sip and then asked quietly, “Why can’tyousleep?”
I wouldn’t tell her about Hughes and the Walsh brothers. As much as I wished I could unburden myself to her, I didn’t want to give her anything else to be anxious about. “Just worryingabout Kelly. And even about Jill now that my anger has cooled, even though she doesn’t deserve it. But she wasn’t like this when we married.”
“I’d think not. What was she like?”
I thought about it and the first word that came to mind popped out. “Fun. Jill was fun. I know that sounds like a shallow trait to fall for, but my whole life had been so serious up until that point.”
“How so?”
I considered London and how she’d confided in me. So I offered her the same. “My father wasn’t a good man.”
She tensed, her brow furrowing as she repeated, “How so?”
“He was extremely abusive toward me and Mum. Mum would step in front of me all the time to take the hits meant for me. When I got old enough, strong enough, I fought back, and he was a typical bully. A total coward. I promised him I’d kill him if he ever hit Mum again, so the physical abuse stopped. But he was a nasty bastard. He spent most of our relationship calling me weak, too sensitive, ‘girly’ and other sexist names. All because I was affectionate toward my mum. Because I liked music and books and poetry. In his eyes, I was less of a man because I was in touch with my feelings. It used to get to me but not enough to stop being myself. In fact, I steadfastly remained myself just to piss him off. And it did. The atmosphere in the house … he used to cause the most awful atmosphere. From a young age, I remember being hypervigilant of his moods, avoiding him when he was itching to cause damage. Mum did too. He died when I was eighteen years old and it’s a sad legacy of a man that his death changed our lives for the better.”
“Murray, I’m so sorry.”
