But that was for later.
After Christmas.
It was Christmas Eve, she reminded herself, and she would be in London later today, across the world from her home, and booked in at the Ritz for Christmas morning before she left for the airport. It had all seemed so exciting when she’d looked at her itinerary before she’d left.
At the moment it looked a little flat and she chided herself for being pathetic. She needed to work on that.
CHAPTER TEN
CONNOR SAT IN the large double cabin facing his grandmother, his head in a medical journal as he tried to catch up on the latest breakthroughs in fertility. There were two articles with his name to them in the current issue and he needed to check that they had been presented correctly.
But his mind was elsewhere. Not with the Wilsons, because that had been a false alarm, though he suspected labour could be drawing closer for them, but hopefully not until after he and his grandmother arrived in London. Hopefully, also, when his brain was less scattered.
His short opportunity for sleep and the lack of rest it had provided didn’t help.
Partly because of the recurring dream, the one he hadn’t had for several years now. It was always the same, the horror of light dying from eyes fixed on his, and he’d woken before dawn, heart pounding and in a lather of sweat, and had known fear like he hadn’t for years.
Desperately disappointed at its return, because he’d hoped the nightmare had finally been banished, this time instead of his mother’s face the woman’s face had been in shadow—and yet he’d known it was Kelsie, even though he hadn’t been able to see her features.
God, he hated the power of dreams that could strike terror into his psyche when he was at his weakest. No control to be had there.
One of the reasons he’d never seriously contemplated even a sensible marriage, or stayed the night at any of his women friends’ homes, was his horror of anyone finding out about this little weakness. He doubted anyone knew he suffered those dreams except his grandmother, who had caught him at a weak moment years ago when he’d been staying over and she’d heard him cry out. That moment still made him cringe.
This morning the nightmare had receded to an eerily distant threat, so much so that it still clouded his thoughts, which were already in disarray with his angst about Kelsie. Why hadn’t she answered the door when he’d gone back? Had she been soundly asleep—or deliberately avoiding him?
He hadn’t tried again when he’d been to see Anna and Josef early that morning in case she was still sleeping. At least that visit had been successful and both seemed unfazed by the baby’s unusual arrival. Good to see someone was happy.
He’d written a referral to a medical colleague in one of the maternity hospitals in Paris for a follow-up visit.
But still the dilemma of Kelsie lingered. His eyes stared unfocused on the page.
Ah, Kelsie. The memories of that morning were still very vivid in his mind. Her glorious body, her ability to tilt his world and spin it until he didn’t know which way was up, the woman who could explore deeply sheltered parts of him that nobody else had access to. He hated that. Was terrified of it. Loved it.
So much so that he wondered if that was where the dream had come from.
He’d have to try and talk to her again. Try to understand what she was thinking. He’d always wished she’d let him into her thoughts more. He’d ruined the mood disastrously by talking about the morning-after pill. Maybe the idea of repercussions had been just as terrifying for her as it had been for him but second-guessing her was difficult.
He’d been unable to settle ever since he’d returned to meet his grandmother for breakfast.
‘You’re very quiet.’ Winsome sounded bored and he put his journal down. Hadn’t been reading the thing anyway.
Poor Gran. He was not good company this morning because all he could think about was the impact he was already feeling after the time with Kelsie. He suspected she was about to fly back to Australia and out of his life once again.
‘Sorry. What would you like to talk about?’
‘You won’t like what I want to talk about.’
He smiled. She was probably right. ‘Thankfully it’s not your pseudo-birthday any more now it’s Christmas Eve. So you have to spare me.’
She pouted and he grinned. ‘Don’t try your wiles on me. You’re not talking to Max now, Gran.’
She smiled at that. ‘He is a darling. Are you sure you don’t mind?’
‘Of course I don’t. He seems a good fellow. But that’s none of my business.’ And she was safely diverted to another topic for the next fifteen minutes, and Connor hoped she’d take the staying-out-of-each-other’s-business hint on board.