Chapter 41
Chapter Forty-One
Aria
A terror she’d never known before gripped her as Dr. Winters approached her table. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” She wouldn’t tell her how scared she was. Wouldn’t make her feel guilty about seeing to Reagan first, when that had been the most pressing need. “No bleeding or cramps or anything. But you know how Killian is.”
As she’d hoped, her attempt at levity did indeed bring a ghost of a smile to Naomi’s face as she set up the portable ultrasound she’d brought with her. The device fit in the palm of her hand and connected to her phone, which had Aria blinking in surprise.
At her look, Naomi grinned and shrugged. “You never know what you’re going to run into in my line of work.”
Laying back on the table, Aria stared up at the doctor, her mind churning with questions. “So do you cater to all the rich and powerful, or just the dangerous ones?”
“All of them. But you’d be surprised how often… situations arise, even with the ones you wouldn’t consider dangerous.”
“Fascinating.”
Dr. Winters reached for the hem of Aria’s dress, then paused. “Do you want the others to stay? I’m going to have to lift your dress up.”
The terror of being alone for what came next was far worse than the humiliation of being seen partially naked. “They can stay.”
Someone gripped her hand and she looked up to find Reagan smiling down at her. “We’ve got you, Aria.”
Unable to speak past the sudden lump in her throat, Aria nodded. Brody brushed at her hair, murmuring quiet, encouraging words. The words themselves didn’t really register so much as his tone, soft and soothing.
She could do this. She may not have her husband, but she had her family.
It seemed to take an eternity for Dr. Winters to get things set up. And an even longer eternity for anything to happen on the screen once she pressed the wand to Aria’s stomach.
But then she heard it. The loud, hammering sound of her baby’s heartbeat.
“Oh, god.” Relief was a tidal wave, threatening to drag her under as she let her head fall back against the table. Let the tears come as she blew out a shuddering breath. “She’s okay. She’s okay.”
“Right as rain, as far as I can tell.” Her own relief was echoed in Naomi’s words, in the tight grip of Reagan’s hand in hers. “I’d still like you to make an appointment with Dr. Byrd tomorrow for a full checkup just to be extra careful, but we have a beautiful, strong heartbeat.”
“Can I see her?” She could barely see at all through the tears of sheer joy and relief, but she needed to see her baby.
“Of course.”
Just as Naomi was handing the phone off to her, the door opened and Killian stepped inside. Everything inside Aria leapt with happiness—then immediately shattered again at the haunted look on his face.
He tried to hide it with a smile, but his eyes were empty. “What did I miss?”
All she wanted was to go to him, to touch and soothe and comfort, but instinct told her he wouldn’t appreciate such gestures with an audience. So instead, she held up the phone with its surprisingly clear black-and-white image. “Our baby. Come see.”
“I can hear her from all the way over here.” His voice was heavy with the same soul-shattering relief she’d felt when she’d first heard that beautiful sound. Crossing the room in three strides, he took Reagan’s place beside the table, his gaze locked on the screen.
“She’s okay.” Emotion choked his words as he stroked a finger down the screen. “Listen to that heartbeat. Strong and sure like her mama.”
“Damn straight.”
Turning from the display, he bent to press a kiss to Aria’s forehead, and her own heart stuttered in her chest. “You’re amazing,” he murmured.
“Damn straight,” she repeated with a watery laugh. “Look at that beautiful baby I’m making for us.”
Straightening again, he looked over at Naomi. “Thank you for taking care of my family, Dr. Winters.”
“Of course.” A smirk tugged at the corner of Naomi’s mouth. “I left your sister with very detailed instructions for taking care of her injury, as well as the number of an excellent physical therapist. I trust you’ll ensure she follows my instructions to the letter.”
“I’ll see to it she does. Thank you.”
Aria risked a glance up at Reagan, and had to swallow a laugh at the pure shock on her face. By contrast, Dr. Winters looked downright chuffed with herself as she gathered her equipment and said her goodbyes.
“That girl is a brat,” Reagan grumbled.
“Too bad there isn’t anyone in this room who enjoys taming brats.” Brody was clearly enjoying his cousin’s aggravation, and the sharp look she sent his way did nothing to wipe the smile from his face.
“If you two are done sniping at each other,” Killian drawled, “I’m going to take my wife upstairs for some food and a nap. Call the cousins, let them know we’ll be having a mandatory family dinner tonight.”
The change in them was so immediate and drastic it nearly gave Aria whiplash. “On it,” Brody said with a sharp nod before pulling his phone from his pocket and striding from the room.
Reagan lingered, worry tingeing her dark eyes. “How was cousin Sheila?”
“As expected.” Killian’s tone made it clear he wasn’t interested in talking about it any more deeply than that, and after a brief hesitation, Reagan nodded.
“All right. I’ll leave you to your lovely wife. Call me if you need anything, both of you.”
And with that, she turned and followed Brody. Leaving Aria alone with her husband and his shattered, empty eyes.
“Daddy?”
At her soft question, he looked up, and the flicker of light in his eyes told her she’d taken exactly the right tack. “Yes, princess?”
“I could really use a shower. And that nap you promised.”
“Of course.”
Before she could move, his arms were under her, scooping her up as he headed out of the room and for the stairs. Normally, she would have argued, insisted she could walk herself, but everything in her told her he needed this.
So for once, she didn’t argue. She simply let her head fall to his shoulder as he carried her to their room and set her on her feet in the ridiculously large bathroom. His hands were gentle, so gentle it made her ache as he stripped her clothes from her before turning on the shower.
“Join me?”
He hesitated, just a moment, before reaching for the button of his shirt. The red stains were a stark reminder that while her child was safe in her womb, another mother was going to bed tonight without her baby.
And that the man in front of her had been the one tasked with bringing her the news of her loss. Holding her while she wept and raged and grieved.
The need to comfort welled inside her as they stepped under the spray together. Red pooled at their feet as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close.
Words failed her as he clung to her, burying his face in the side of her neck as his entire body shook. Just once, but it was enough to tell her he was closer to the edge than he was letting on.
Lifting his head, he pressed his forehead to hers. “Aria…”
The words he’d never actually said hung in the air between them. “I know. Will you wash my hair for me?”
It was in his nature to care for the people around him. So she gave him that. Let him coddle and pamper her as he scrubbed the events of the day from their bodies. And with every passing minute under those scorching hot sprays, she felt the tension leave him, little by little.
Her own nerves settled as his fingers worked their magic in her hair, pressing firmly against her scalp. Closing her eyes on a sigh, she gave herself over to it.
To him.
When they were both finally clean again, he helped her out of the shower, gently rubbing one of his soft, fluffy towels over her body until every inch of her was dry.
Once more, she found herself in his arms as he carried her to the bed they’d shared more often than not.
Their bed, she assumed, now that she also shared his name.
But when he tried to put her down, she clung to him. “Stay with me.”
“You need your rest.”
“I need you.”
As she’d known they would, those three little words shattered his resistance. With a soft sigh he climbed into the bed with her, holding her against his bare chest as he pressed a kiss to her hair. “Stubborn brat,” he murmured, though there was no heat behind the words.
Lifting her head, she smiled up at him. “Would you have me any other way?”
He cupped her face in his hand, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone, and for a moment, she worried her heart might simply stop at the tenderness of that simple touch. “No. No, I don’t think I would.”
A different kind of need welled inside her as he dipped his head, capturing her lips in a slow, sweet kiss. But when she reached for the towel he’d wrapped around his waist, he captured her wrist, holding her at bay.
“Naughty girl. Didn’t I say you needed rest?”
“And didn’t I say I needed you?”
Dragging her arm up above her head, he shifted, grabbing hold of her other wrist, pinning them both to the bed in one hand. “Stubborn. Willful. Obstinate.”
As he spoke, he stroked his free hand down her stomach, soft little touches that stoked the fire of need inside her. “Bossy. Hard-headed. Possessive.”
“Indeed,” he said with a low chuckle as he continued with those featherlight touches. “I am all those things. And you married me anyway.”
“I did. And I would do it again, even if we weren’t being threatened with a police raid.”
The hand that had now drifted down to her hip stilled. Lifting his head, he stared down at her, wonder in his brilliant green eyes. “You would?”
“Of course. That’s what you do when you love someone, isn’t it? You spend the rest of your life with them.”
“You love me.” A statement rather than a question, but no less filled with wonder.
“Trust me, nobody is as surprised by that turn of events as I am.”
“You love me,” he repeated, his fingers resuming their quest down her body, more urgently now. “Even though I’m bossy and hard-headed and possessive. Even though I kidnapped you and threatened to kill your father.”
“Are you trying to talk me out of it, O’Rourke?”
His fingers filled her without warning, and she arched off the bed with a loud cry. “You’re an O’Rourke now, too, don’t forget. And what does my wife call me when she’s pinned to our bed, writhing with pleasure?”
“Daddy!” The word was ripped from her as a shockwave of pure, stunning pleasure crashed over her. She barely had time to recover before he was working her up toward that shimmering peak again.
Helpless, she surrendered to it, to him. Let herself be dragged over that knife-sharp edge over and over.
And when she was a boneless, mindless, whimpering mess, he finally joined her. Filling her, stretching her the way only he could as he moved inside her.
“My beautiful wife,” he murmured against her lips. “My stubborn princess. My very, very good girl. Is tú mo chuisle. Once more, with me. Come with me, Aria.”
There was nothing left in her to resist. So once again she gave herself over to him as he filled her one final time, emptying himself into her with a low, needy groan.
Collapsing on the bed beside her, he pulled her into his arms and she let her eyes drift closed as she listened to his heart thundering in his chest. Proof that he was alive, and so was she.
When the thundering subsided, she lifted her head to meet those stunningly bright eyes. Some of the grief had left them, though she knew he would always carry it with him. “What was that you said at the end?”
The corners of his lips dipped down. “What?”
“You said something, but it wasn’t English. Something like… Is too muck weeshla?”
“Is tú mo chuisle?”
“Yes! That was it. What’s it mean?”
His frown deepened. “I hadn’t realized I said that.”
Interesting. “Why do you look upset? Is it bad?”
“No.” Twining his fingers with hers, he brought their locked hands to his lips. “It translates roughly to ‘you are my pulse’. It’s Gaelic.”
Oh, god. If she wasn’t already in love with him, she would have fallen head over heels right then. “It’s beautiful.”
“Not nearly as beautiful as my wife.”
Pleasure warmed her from the inside out as he released her hand to cup her face, his thumb brushing along her cheekbone in that way he had that made everything inside her tremble. “My beautiful, brilliant, bratty wife. May I ask you a somewhat personal question?”
“We’re laying in the bed we share with your cum drying on my thighs. I think we’re past the ‘TMI’ stage, Killian.”
“Brat,” he murmured, his lips curving upward. “I’ve just been wondering… what happened to your nose?”
Of everything she’d expected him to ask, that hadn’t been anywhere on her radar. “My nose?”
“Yes. It’s slightly crooked. Which I find ridiculously adorable, but I’ve wondered what happened.”
“Oh. Nothing really interesting. I got hit in the face with a soccer ball when I was younger.”
“You never had it fixed.”
She raised a brow. “It doesn’t hinder my ability to breathe so I didn’t see any reason to spend all that money on a purely cosmetic procedure. Is that a problem for you?”
“Quite the opposite. As I said, I find it ridiculously adorable. The only flaw on an otherwise perfect face.”
Rolling on top of him, she straddled his hips, delighted when his cock twitched beneath her. “Perhaps I should break your nose, too. It seems unfair for only one of us to have a perfect face.”
His chest rumbled with laughter as he gripped her hips, lifting her to settle on his half-hard cock. “Perfect, you say?”
“Please.” Letting her head fall back, she closed her eyes on a sigh as she rode him, slowly, leisurely, as if they had all the time in the world. “You know damn well your face is perfect.”
“It’s simply the rest of me that’s flawed.”
The bitterness in his tone had her lifting her head to stare down at him. “Not flawed. Hardened, perhaps. Even blackened in places. But you are exactly what you need to be to protect your family. And that, my love, is the furthest thing from a flaw.”
She caught just a glimpse of tears shimmering over the emerald of his eyes before he blinked and they were gone. “The things you do to me. My wife. Mo chroí istigh ionat.”
More than the words themselves, the emotion in his voice washed over her, warming every inch of her skin as she rode them both to oblivion again. Collapsing atop him, she curled into his chest with a sigh, her eyes drifting closed as exhaustion overtook her.
And she slept, secure in the knowledge he would keep her and their child safe as she did.