Jennifer wanted to banish them all so that she could greet Gordon alone, but of course she didn’t. Instead, she stood back, watching. The foyer was crowded with people now, all of them forgetting their places for the pleasure of welcoming home one of their own.
He glanced at her and then away, almost as if he didn’t recognize her.
She hadn’t changed that much in five years. Five very long years.
He might as well have been a stranger to her, not someone she once knew. Not the man she’d repeatedly kissed on the shore of the loch. She could still recall the press of his lips on hers, how his face felt beneath her fingertips. This man had featured in her dreams for years. As a girl, she’d wanted to love him, to give him her innocence. She’d planned to do exactly that, but he’d disappeared, leaving her alone, confused, and heartbroken.
Here he was, standing before her, looking prosperous and healthy. Had he married? She wished she could produce a husband. One who was gloriously in love with her, who thought she was the epitome of all things a man wanted in a wife.
This imaginary husband didn’t exist. There was no one to praise her or smile at her with tenderness. All anyone could say was that she’d been a good chatelaine for Adaire Hall.
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.