A dozen times he'd almost gone to her room in the dead of night. Her exotic beauty lured him like the moon lured a lunar tide. The one taste he'd had merely whetted his appetite so that each night he felt more ravenous than the last. He was in one hell of a state. He'd tried easing his hunger with other women, but soon knew the only cure for what ailed him was Kitty ... Kitty!
Perhaps it was for the best that she was going back north.
At least he'd be able to concentrate on business again. But he felt so reluctant about letting her go. He wanted her back at Half-Moon Street
as his exclusive property, but she pretended she'd have none of him and he'd be damned if he'd go down on his knees and beg her!
On the other side of the house Kitty lay awake thinking of Patrick O'Reilly. In spite of his wickedness he was the only man she would ever want. If he'd ask her to marry him, she'd say yes in a flash, but fat bloody chance there was of that. He just wanted her for his fancy piece and she was relieved she was leaving for Bolton before she gave in to temptation.
She dashed a tear away before it dared to form and wrapped her arms about her aching breasts. Then she sighed and gave herself up to her dreams, which with any luck would fly her to Patrick's waiting arms.
On the station platform Kitty was rather nervous of the huge iron monster, chugging out clouds of dirty smoke, ashes and cinders. The noise was a clattering assault on the eardrums and everything was confusion and disorder as baggage was loaded before the passengers. Kitty carried a lap robe for over O'Reilly's knees and a wicker lunch basket of food. Suddenly a cinder blew into her eye and she let out a little scream and tried to rub it away.
"Don't do that," Patrick commanded. He took out a white linen handkerchief and lifted her face without so much as a by-your-leave and extracted the foreign body. The moment he touched her, Kitty began to tremble. As he looked into her eyes, she blushed a deep pink and lowered her eyelashes. "Look at me," he ordered. Her eyelashes fluttered upward momentarily and he said, low, "Do you forgive me?"
She caught her lip between her teeth but could not speak, so she shook her head vehemently. "To hell with you then!" he said savagely.
Soon the dirty buildings fell away and they were traveling through green hills and then fields of golden ripe wheat, dotted with red poppies. Fanners were haymaking and the scenes were so peaceful that Kitty fell into a sort of daydream. In a way she had hated to leave the excitement of London, and she hadn't enjoyed saying her farewells to the girls last night. Barbara, bless her, almost had been in tears. Julia was so full of the wedding, of course, she could think of nothing else. Kitty, realizing the next time she saw Julia, she would be a married woman, felt it her duty to forewarn her of what to expect from Jeffrey. She broached the subject by asking, "Julia, aren't you just a little bit afraid of marriage?"
"Afraid? Of course not," she said and laughed. "I can't wait. Married women have much more freedom, you know."
"I suppose so, but you will be expected to share your husband's bed," persisted Kitty.
"Oh, no, I shall insist on my own bedroom. Oh! I know what you're hinting at-the intimacy business," laughed Julia.
"Oh, Julia, don't laugh. It will shock you so deeply. You have no idea what it's like to be with a man that way."
"Don't I?" Julia arched her brows. "What quaint notions you carry around in that head of yours, Kitty!"
She was brought abruptly back to the present as Jonathan O'Reilly shook her arm for the second time.
"Yer off somewhere wool-gathering, lass. Be a good girl and open that lunch basket and let's see if we've got 'owt worth eating, eh?"
There was some cold chicken and some small jars of calves' jelly for invalids. A dozen small red tomatoes had been carefully packed to keep them separate from the russet apples.
"What muck!" Jonathan complained. He brought out his wallet and handed some money to Terry. "Here's a quid, lad. At the next station go and get us some pork pies and a bottle of hock."
Kitty almost protested, then realized that he would have his way no matter who put forth objections. However, an hour after he had partaken of the heavy pork pie, he was rolling about with indigestion.
Kitty was very anxious for him. "Mr. O'Reilly, you don't think you are having another stroke, do you?"
"Nay, lass, it's the wind. Next stop get me some peppermints. Ask for Mint Imperials; they should do the trick. I'm often plagued with wind. You know, life's funny-when I was a little lad I went hungry many a time, and now that I can afford anything I like, it doesn't like me. By gum, I'm feeling poorly."
By the time the little party wound its way to Hey House, all three were suffering from exhaustion. Terrance soon made himself scarce and after Mrs. Thomson helped Kitty get O'Reilly to bed, Mrs. Thomson took her into the kitchen, where a bright coal fire blazed.
"Take a load off yer feet, child, and I'll get you a cup of tea. If himself rings in the next half hour, you just ignore him. He can be a mithering old devil"
"Oh, Mrs. Thomson, I'm glad I'm back," said Kitty helplessly.
"They say that there London just seethes with vice. It's nothing but a den of iniquity. Did anything happen to you out of the ordinary?"
Kitty looked at the bright eyes, avid for a juicy tidbit. She said slowly, "Just one thing: I stopped being a little girl."
Chapter 8
October 1 was a cool, clear day. The wedding went off without any hitches until the reception was well under way. Julia followed P