Waking Up To Love (Lakeside Porches Book 4) (35 page)

“You’re paying, right?”

“Of course. Anything he likes, Lynnie. Even pie.”

“Cool haircut, by the way,” he told her and touched the waves that skimmed her left cheek.

“How sweet.”

Rand ordered a club sandwich with handmade chips, a pot of green tea, and cherry pie
a la mode
.

“Smart and handsome.” Lyssa gave him a dazzling smile as she handed over her credit card. She signed the slip with a flourish and motioned Rand to her table.

“What’s new, Rand?”

“Lot’s happening. I’m just back from a quick trip to New York City to have lunch with my new literary agent. My sister joined us, and she’s acting as my publicist.”

“Congratulations. Are you putting out a volume of poetry?”

“You could call it that.” He told her about his six epics. “My agent Tiffany Longleaf is calling me The Shakespeare of the New Millennium.”

Lynnie plunked down Rand’s pot of tea and the plates of food. The tea sloshed onto the table. “Sorry about the spill,” she told him and left an extra napkin.

“How exciting Rand,” Lyssa said.

“How about you, Lyssa?”

She waved a hand. “Just wrapping up finals and grades.” When he had a mouthful, she told him, “I brought us together to say we’re finished, Rand. I don’t want to see you, date you, hang with you, or talk with you after this meeting. Don’t call me, text me, email me, smoke joints outside my apartment, stop me on campus, issue an invitation, or deliver a message through a third party. And so on,
ad infinitum
.”

She stood, shrugged into her coat, and grabbed her purse.

Rand set down his sandwich and looked up. “Seriously?”

She held out her hand.

He hesitated and then shook it.

“Goodbye, Rand. All the best to you.”

She strode to the front door and called over her shoulder, “Thanks, Lynnie.”

Manda held the door open. “Way to go, sis.”

“Was I clear?”

“Perfectly. I witnessed it. So did Lynnie.”

“Done.”

Manda laughed. “I feel bad, leaving Lynnie in there with him.”

Lyssa elbowed her. “Bad enough to go back in?”

“No way, but you owe her big time.”

“I do, don’t I?”

Chapter 12

In her mind, tonight was a test. Meeting Kyle’s peers on their own turf scared her to death.

When she’d been out in public with him on her last visit, she’d soaked up every detail and peppered him with questions on their tour of the estate and their visit to town. She’d had fun eating an enormous ploughman’s lunch—baked salmon with fresh-from-the garden vegetables and half a dozen new potatoes—and pitching a few darts along with Kyle and his neighbors. She’d worn cords and a sweater and had laughed along with men who already had a pint in them, a few of whom depended on Kyle for their businesses. Success was guaranteed that time.

Tonight, though, Kyle wanted her to see an establishment that offered fine dining for tourists and locals. “And to meet some of the wealthy and powerful in this corner of England.”

Her stomach did a jittery dance at the prospect. The only thing she could control was looking the part. She had given Manda’s hairdresser, Sara, free rein with her mass of curls. The result was a head-hugging bob that she loved. After the hair appointment, she’d had a mani-pedi and daringly chosen Holiday Red over her signature hot-pink nail polish.

Still, after the long, punishing journey from Tompkins Falls to Pennington House, it had taken her an hour to make her hair and skin and nails look their best. She wished she had the spa’s masseuse with her now to work out the tension in her shoulders.

Banned from his bedroom while she fussed, Kyle paced downstairs, fretting they’d be late. “Seriously, Lyssa!” he yelled from the front entry.

She shimmied into her dress. Gianessa had taken her shopping for outfits that would see her through all their holiday activities in Cornwall and the concerts and festivities Kyle had planned for them in London. Tonight, she wore a body-hugging, long-sleeved, dark blue dress with a wash of sequins over the bodice. The mirror verified that the color intensified her blue eyes. She felt confident, and it showed.

I’m ready.
She ran down the stairway, fingers skimming the banister.

Kyle smiled with his whole face, lifted her off the last step, and swung her in a circle. “Smashing, luv.”

The moon hung low in the sky as they drove the dark single-track road with the sea to their right. They chatted about the three days they’d been apart, but nothing they said registered with her.

He helped her from the car, and they walked hand-in-hand to a brightly lit inn. She couldn’t have said where they were, except that Kyle had called it “an old inn on the road to Newquay.”

He handed off their coats and announced them to the hostess.

I can do this. God, help me out here.

“You’re not too tired for this?” Kyle asked, with a nod to the festive, noisy dining room. “That was an endless flight and a long train ride.” His hand was at her waist as they approached their table.

“During which I slept, thanks to that neck pillow Joel recommended the last time I came. Do I still have creases in my cheek?”

He caressed her cheek and pronounced it, “Perfect.”

She smiled as he seated her.

Lyssa’s gaze took in mounds of holly and berries on the mantle of the nearby fireplace. Flames licked at the logs and gave off a fragrance she thought might be balsam. “This place is beautiful, Kyle, old and elegant, just as you said. How long has it been in business?”

“Centuries.” Her eyes opened wide, and he nodded. “Really.”

Brightly attired ladies and suited men of all ages smiled and laughed through their meals.
I fit in.

Dark red linens covered the tables. She asked Kyle, “Did you pick that tie to coordinate with the décor?”

“It’s the only tie I have left,” he said, straight-faced.

She laughed and tugged his tie. “I promise, no more tie pilfering. I don’t need them with the new haircut.”

“You look stunning tonight,” he told her.

The huskiness in his voice made her insides tingle.

“In fact, you are turning heads, sweetheart, in that blue-sequined dress. Here’s our drinks person. What would you like?”

Before she could answer, the wine steward positioned a leather-bound list for Kyle.

“You’ve an impressive selection,” Kyle said with a wide, white smile.

“We’ve a Syrah from Portugal that pairs well with the beef and pork selections.”

“Yes, but unfortunately we won’t be having wine tonight. I’ll have—”

“Are you certain?” The sommelier appealed to Lyssa with a puzzled frown. “We were confident Mr. Pennington would enjoy a bottle of our finest. Perhaps champagne or a crisp white for the lady?”

“I have an idea,” Lyssa said and drew the two men closer with a crook of her finger. “The very large party at the next table is still enjoying their main course and looks to be running low on the red.”

“That’s Lord Warren’s party, isn’t it?” Kyle asked.

When the steward had confirmed it, Lyssa tipped her head and met Kyle’s gaze. “Perhaps we could offer them a bottle of the Syrah in the spirit of holiday good will?”

“Brilliant, yes.” Kyle deferred to the steward. “What two bottles might they enjoy?”

“I’ll take care of it sir. Very thoughtful of you and the lady.”

Kyle pressed closer after the waiter had left and whispered in her ear. “You did that like you were to the manor born.”

His praised warmed her to her toes. Thanks to Gianessa’s coaching and a moment of divine inspiration, she’d handled a tricky moment, in a culture she barely understood, surrounded by Kyle’s peers. She’d passed so far.

Kyle continued, “There I was worried I’d have to say you don’t drink alcohol, and you turned it all around to a holiday gesture.”

“Lord Warren had been frowning at you, and I thought our generosity might help.”

“He’s likely put off that I’ve been absent and neglectful. I suspect many others are as well.”

“They’ve just delivered the wine and are telling him it’s from you.”

Kyle smiled at the older gentleman and received a pleasant nod in return.

Lyssa ran her thumb across his knuckles. “Even the cheeky wine steward dared to point out that you haven’t been contributing to the economy as you’re expected to.”

“I missed that underlying message. It’s possible you’ve started me on the road to better standing.”

“You’re not angry that I’ve spent a couple hundred pounds of yours?”

“Well spent. Well done.” He leaned closer. “We can expect one or another of the Warrens to come over for a chat. Just so you know, they’re a large landholding family back toward Bodmin. He’s in banking, I believe. She’s from a shipping family near Plymouth. Lots of fascinating Cornish history between the two lineages.”

“You haven’t told me much about your family tree.”

“You mean the smugglers?” At her gasp, he said, “Joking, luv. My family’s not nearly as interesting as any of that. Will you let me tell the Warrens about your public television series?”

“I’d like that. I’m very proud of that work.”

“I am as well,” Kyle told her. “And I’m proud to be here with you tonight.”

When she laced her fingers with his, a current flowed between them. His gaze locked with hers, and she nodded.

I’m ready, Kyle
.

At breakfast the next morning, Kyle glanced through the London
Times
, while Lyssa sipped coffee and observed the red deer on the lawn. Half her mind replayed the passion she’d shared with Kyle after their evening out.

A gentle
whir
reached her ears, and a
clang
caught Kyle’s attention. “Mum’s stair lift.” He stashed the newspaper on an empty chair and yelled to Fiona to set another place.

This was the first time Moira Pennington had come downstairs since her hospital stay.

“Look at you.” Kyle teased his mother as he took her hand and helped her rise from the contraption. “Would you like a walker, or shall I carry you into breakfast?”

“Nonsense.” She tapped her son playfully with her cane. “I’ll just put my arm through yours, shall I? Isn’t our tree lovely? I smell the fir and the cinnamon garland in my room, you know.”

Fiona scurried past them with a place setting and a fresh pot of coffee. “Morning, ma’am,” she said. “Eggs and toast for ye?”

“Scrambled. Is there blackberry jam?”

Fiona nodded, poured her a cup of coffee, and made for the kitchen.

Lyssa was on her feet, helping to settle Moira in the sunniest chair. “Comfortable, mum?”

Moira smiled and lifted her cheek for a kiss.

Lyssa obliged. “We’re so glad you could join us. It’s a brilliant day, isn’t it?”

“Indeed, and you, my dear, look like a blushing bride.”

Lyssa’s cheeks flamed. Speechless, she slipped onto her chair and directed her smile at the untouched omelet on her plate.

“That’s getting cold, child.” Moira patted Lyssa’s hand. “Don’t wait for my breakfast to appear.”

Lyssa obediently picked up her fork.

“Kyle, I understand you and Lyssa have tickets for a number of events in London after Christmas. You’re not planning to subject her to your bachelor pad, are you?”

“Er, I hadn’t given much thought to a hotel. Perhaps I should get us a suite somewhere.” He winked at Lyssa.

Moira spread a linen napkin on her lap and informed them of her plans. “I’ve spoken with Hazlitt’s, and their lovely suite is available. I suggest you consider it.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, mum. I’ll give Hazlitt’s a call, shall I, Lyssa?”

Moira preempted. “I took the liberty of reserving it for you.”

“Did you now?” Kyle asked with laugh.

Moira nodded imperiously. “This looks delicious, Fiona,” she said as the cook delivered a plate of fluffy eggs and toast, accompanied by a jam jar with its own delicate silver spoon. “We mustn’t let this lovely food get cold.”

“Sweet of you to think of a hotel for us,” Lyssa told Moira with a bright smile.

Moira beamed. “Eat. You need your strength.”

Lyssa grabbed Kyle’s hand as they hiked up the track toward the cliff top. “I’m flabbergasted at your mother changing your plans on you.”

“Feisty this morning, wasn’t she? She seems to have a new lease on life since her pneumonia. I swear she’s never done anything like this.”

“Why do you suppose . . .?”

“I’ve no idea.”

They’d battled the wind for a mile when Kyle cautioned, “It may be too windy for the cliff top today.”

“Let’s try it anyway.” She bumped shoulders with him. “Now that we have our strength.”

“From the eggs, yes, after our night of passion.” Kyle laughed. “She was full of surprises.”

“Does she object to our sharing a room?”

“I wouldn’t have thought so. She may be a little miffed that we were seen by the Warrens without an engagement having been announced. You remember when Warren glanced at your left hand and frowned at me.”

“Oh, yes, then asked if the lovely lady was your wife?”

“And I said something like, ‘Pending the lady’s consent.’”

“That was a gracious response, Kyle, even if you did have your teeth clenched.”

“Yes, well . . .” He snapped his fingers. “You know, I did hear the phone ring in Mum’s room quite early. It’s possible the dowager called her for the whole story.”

“That would be Warren’s mother? She looked about Mum’s age.”

“Exactly, and an early-morning call would be just like her.”

“In that case, your mother’s remarks make perfect sense.”

“How so?”

“By saying I look like a blushing bride and reserving a suite at Hazlitt’s, she’s urging us to formalize our relationship.”

Kyle stopped, though they were still a few yards short of the cliff top. “I’m with her on that, sweetheart. Shall we talk about it now?”

“Yes.” A smile played around her mouth.

He studied her face. Her eyes didn’t waver, though her hands shook. As he drew something from his jacket pocket, he asked, “Do you mind terribly if I don’t kneel on the wet path?”

She shook her head and touched his elbow to steady herself against the wind.

He pressed a ring against her palm. “Lyssa, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife and sharing the rest of our days together?”

“I will.” She wrapped her arms around his waist. “I love you, Kyle.”

He crushed her to him. “I thought I’d never hear you say that. I love you, Lyssa, more than I ever imagined possible.”

She opened her hand behind his back and peered around him at the ring. When she saw it, she gasped. “Oh my God, Kyle.”

“Like it? The emerald was Dad’s mother’s. I had it set with white diamonds for you.”

Lyssa slipped from his arms and dropped cross-legged to the path. She held the ring with the index finger and thumb of both hands, examining every square millimeter of it. “This is . . .”

The wind ruffled her shorter hair, and he couldn’t see her face. He squatted beside her. “Sweetheart, if you don’t like it, we can—”

“I love this ring, Kyle. It’s perfect. You can’t know how perfect it is.” She raised her face to him, her eyes moist with tears. “Will you put it on my finger, please?”

He reached for her left hand. Her fingers trembled as he slipped on the ring.

“It fits perfectly,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He stroked her cheek. “Just like us.”