Dreaming of You (The Gamblers #2)(49)

They both laughed, and Sara rumpled the boy’s red hair. “She would never do that, Billy. Besides, Mathilda ended up nearly jumping off a bridge—see what comes of running away?”

He gave her a sly, bucktoothed grin. “Guess you won’t be leaving Mr. Kingswood anymore, then.”

Sara leaned close to him. “Do you think he missed me?” she asked in a conspiratorial whisper. To her delight, Billy blushed until his face was bright pink underneath his carrot-colored hair.

“Ask ’im yourself!” he said, and scampered down the road.

“I intend to.” Resuming her walk at a leisurely pace, Sara sighed with a mixture of pleasure and sadness. This was where she belonged, in a place where everything was familiar to her. She knew the patterns of every path, meadow, and stream. She was acquainted with everyone in the village, and the histories of the families who lived there. Greenwood Corners was a lovely place. But this homecoming was different from her others. Instead of relief and joy, she felt hollow, as if she had left some vital part of herself behind. Not even her parents and their smiles of loving welcome had been able to take away her unease. She was eager to see Perry this morning, hoping he would provide the comfort she needed.

Her heart picked up a faster beat as she approached the Kingswood home. It was a charming village manor of classical design, with ivy creeping over its scored stucco front. Inside, the rooms were decorated with simple plasterwork and refined shades of ocher, brown, and pea-green. In the warm seasons Perry’s mother, Martha, was most often found in the kitchen garden at the back of the manor, tending to her herbs and vegetables. During the winter months she spent her time doing needlework in the parlor, close to the light and warmth offered by the fireplace. And Perry, of course, was in the library, poring over his beloved history and poetry books.

Sara knocked at the door and scraped her feet at the side of the step. After a minute or two Martha Kingswood appeared. She was an attractive woman with blue-gray eyes and hair that had once been blond but had faded to a pale vanilla color. Her welcoming expression melted as she recognized the visitor. “Back from your gallivanting, I see.”

Meeting the older woman’s sharp eyes, Sara smiled cheerfully. “Not gallivanting. Researching.” She couldn’t help thinking of the warning her own mother, Katie, had given her a few years ago. “Be careful of what you tell that woman, Sara. I’ve known Martha since she was a girl. She’ll encourage you to confide in her, and then find a way to use your words against you.”

“But I’ve never given her a reason to dislike me,” Sara had protested.

“You have Perry’s affection, dear. That’s reason enough.”

Since then Sara had come to realize that her mother was right. Widowed a few years after Perry was born, Martha had centered her life around her son. Whenever she was in the same room, she hovered over him with an indiscreet jealousy that made Sara uncomfortable. Perry had resigned himself to his mother’s possessiveness, knowing that she disliked anyone who took his attention away from her. But he claimed that after he was married, Martha would soften her tightly controlling grip. “We’ll all be able to come to an understanding,” he had told Sara countless times. “Remember not to take anything she says personally. She would behave like this with any girl I chose to court.”

Martha blocked the doorway with her sticklike figure, as if she wished to prevent Sara from entering. “When did you return?”

“Last evening.”

“I suppose you’re here to see my son.” Martha’s tone was smooth, but it carried an edge of hostility that made Sara wince.

“Yes, Mrs. Kingswood.”

“Perhaps next time you could arrange your visit so as not to disturb his midmorning studies.” Martha’s tone implied that it was the height of inconsideration to have called at such an hour. Before Sara could reply, Martha opened the door wider and motioned her into the house.

Hoping Martha was not following her, Sara quickened her step through the hallway. It would be nice, she thought wryly, if her reunion with Perry was private, at least for a minute or two. Thankfully she didn’t hear Martha’s footsteps behind her. She reached the library, a comfortable room decorated with papered panels of pink, red, and brown birds, and fitted with rows of mahogany bookshelves.

The young man seated at the rosewood desk by one of the windows stood up and smiled at her.

“Perry!” she cried, and ran to him.

Chuckling at her impulsiveness, Perry caught her in his arms. He was slender and of moderate height, with the most elegant hands Sara had ever seen on a man. His every gesture was infused with grace. She had always loved to watch him write, play the piano, or merely turn the pages of a book. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the scent of his cologne and smiled in contentment. “Oh, Perry.” The feel of his compact body was familiar and comfortable, making it seem that the past days in London had never happened.

But all at once a memory blazed across her mind…Derek Craven’s powerful arms crushing her close, his softly growling voice in her ear. “I want to hold you like this until your skin melts into mine…I want you in my bed, the smell of you on my sheets…”

Startled, Sara drew her head back.

“Darling?” Perry murmured. “What is it?”

She blinked hard, while a shiver crossed her shoulders. “Just…a chill from outside.” Staring at him, she tried to blot out the memory with the sight of Perry’s face. “You’re so handsome,” she said sincerely, and he laughed, pleased.