Chapter 11 #2
Kiernan returned to the dining room a moment later. He’d taken off his hat, and his forehead was creased with frustration. “Bellamy’s not here.”
“He’s not?”
“Apparently he left early this morning, and his sister doesn’t know when he’ll return.”
Was he already out looking for Mr. O’Reilly? Zaira could only pray he’d find the man swiftly so the children could be reunited with their father.
Kiernan blew out a taut breath. “He was aware that we would need a meeting this morn, was he not?”
“I assumed so.” They hadn’t talked about specific plans, but certainly Bellamy had to know this was the next step in making their courtship official.
“I sent Jenny up to tell Oscar we’re here and would like a meeting.”
Zaira sighed. Leave it to Kiernan to make such demands. “We can’t meet without Bellamy—”
“Thanks be to the holy mother.” Oscar’s booming voice filled the pub as he stepped through from the kitchen behind the bar counter.
He was hastily finishing buttoning his sleeves and his hair was disheveled, as if he hadn’t yet taken the time to comb it.
“I was hoping to see James Shanahan coming to make an offer for my lad, Bellamy. But I’ll take Kiernan Shanahan in his stead, so I will. ”
She shook her head. “This isn’t an offer, Mr. McKenna.”
“Say no more.” Oscar was smiling broadly, and his eyes danced with excitement, as if he’d just been told President Zachary Taylor was coming to dinner. “After that kiss, I figured it was just a matter of time before the Shanahans came here to make a match.”
Kiernan wasn’t smiling in return. “If you knew that, then why are you holding meetings with every other family in St. Louis?”
Oscar rumbled with laughter as he rounded the bar. “I always say there’s nothing like a wee nudge to set the wheels of love in motion.”
“Just so you know, Mr. McKenna”—she followed the man toward his corner table—“Bellamy and I aren’t ready for an official match. For now, we only want to court and have the chance to get to know each other better before we decide if we’re the right fit.”
Oscar waved a dismissive hand and gave another short laugh. “Oh, you’re a fit and rightly so. I didn’t have to be here to witness the kiss, and even I know that.”
“The decision is up to Bellamy and me,” she persisted, relieved the pub was empty and no one else could hear Oscar’s declaration.
Kiernan had followed Oscar too, and he touched her arm and slanted her a warning look, one that told her she was being too bold.
That wasn’t fair. She couldn’t sit back and say nothing—not when she and Bellamy had already decided upon a course of action that would work for them.
She glanced first to the door and then to the kitchen entrance. Where was Bellamy, anyway? If he were here, he’d be able to clarify everything.
“Come on and sit with me, Kiernan.” Oscar pulled out a chair and lowered himself. “Let’s talk for a few minutes, and then we’ll schedule a meeting with both you and your father and Bellamy where we can pluck the gander.”
“Excuse me, Mr. McKenna.” The panic was starting to swell inside Zaira. “Bellamy and I decided we don’t want to arrange a match yet.”
Oscar gave her another large, almost-affectionate smile. “I heard you the first time you told me that, darlin’.”
“Bellamy doesn’t want a match yet either.”
“Ach, that Bellamy wouldn’t know what he wants even if the right woman walked up to him and kissed him—which she did.”
Inwardly Zaira groaned. Would that kiss haunt her forever?
The best thing to do at the moment was find Bellamy and get him to stop the proceedings from going any further.
As Oscar turned his attention to Kiernan and began talking to him, Zaira made her way into the kitchen.
Jenny, at the washtub scrubbing dishes, paused and stared at Zaira. Gavin was in the middle of adding something to a pot on the stove, and he halted to look at her too.
Zaira gave them both a smile. If they hadn’t already overheard Oscar’s pronouncement about matching her and Bellamy, they could probably guess why she was at the pub. “Could either of you please tell me where Bellamy went and when he’ll be expected back?”
Jenny’s dark brown eyes, so much like Bellamy’s, were filled with curiosity as she took Zaira in. Did the young woman believe Zaira was about to join their family, perhaps even work in the kitchen alongside her?
Not that Zaira was opposed to hard work or washing dishes or peeling potatoes or whatever else people did in a kitchen.
But that was one of the reasons why she longed to put off marriage for a little while—because she didn’t want other things to interfere with her time to research and write her books.
Someday, she would embrace managing a house and motherhood and all that came with it, but not at the present.
“He didn’t tell us where he was going.” Jenny’s arms were submerged in murky water up to her elbows, and her apron was wet all down the front. “Only that he had to see about some things.”
“Do you mind if I go out and check if he’s back?” She nodded in the direction of the door.
“Feel free.”
Zaira exited the kitchen, and the moment the door closed behind her, she raced across the alley to the shed. She knocked softly on the door. “Seamus? Moya?”
Only silence greeted her. Maybe they were too afraid to answer, didn’t realize it was her, didn’t recognize her voice.
“It’s me, Zaira.” She leaned in and continued to speak quietly. “The woman you met last night.”
Still there was no response.
It was possible the two were asleep.
She tugged at the door, expecting it to be latched, but it swung open effortlessly.
Her gaze landed on the place where she’d made the blanket beds for the two last night.
Nothing was there. The blankets, pillows, bowls of food, and mugs of milk—there wasn’t a trace of them or the children, almost as if they’d never even been in the shed.
She scanned the small area again, hoping for some clue as to where the children were. “Bellamy found their father already and took them to be reunited.” That had to be it. She stepped outside and this time surveyed the surrounding area.
At the sight of a lean but muscular man riding down the alley in the direction the pub, she breathed out, trying to loosen the tightness in her chest. Bellamy was coming.
Surely he would have answers on the whereabouts of the children, and surely he could make his father understand their desire to have a courtship and nothing more.
With the brim of his flatcap pulled low, Bellamy’s face was shadowed. Even so, she could see the tension in his shoulders. As he neared the pub, he slowed his mount. Instead of turning toward the stables next to the shed, he brought his horse to a halt beside her.
“Where are Seamus and Moya?” She didn’t bother with a greeting. “I’m really hoping you’ll tell me they’re back with their father.” Not just because she loved happily-ever-afters, which she did, but also because she truly wanted what was best for the children.
He didn’t bother with a greeting either. “When I came out this morning to check on them, they were gone.”