CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“I’m glad.” Niall hadworked on a bare bones’ explanation for his actions. After all, a man who’d behaved as stupidly as he had still had his pride. Pulling off the exhibition had given his confidence in his craft and his future a sugar hit. Having her within touching distance mattered more. Her searing honesty allowed him to find his own. “You need to know why I was unhappy.”
“I’ve been afraid I’ll hurt the people I love.” She believed she’d hurt him.
Did that also mean she loved him?
He continued. “This story might take some time.”
“I’m guessing you’re in charge of locking up here,” she said. “So we’ve got the time.”
“Can I pour you another drink?” He shuffled sentences in his head.
“No more bubbles for me on an empty stomach. That’s part of why the evening with Clem and Kelly went pear-shaped.” Her mouth quirked up at one corner.
“I sent the caterer’s leftovers home with Kate and Anna. But I can offer you something to eat.” He reached into the chill box at his side and produced two farmhouse sandwiches. “No plates, I’m sorry.”
“After the handblown French flutes, I expected Qing dynasty porcelain.” She was teasing him, defusing the tension that hovered, and he fell in love all over again.
“They were chipped. Didn’t suit the ambience I was creating.” He’d start looking for some next week.
“Why are we having this conversation here?”
“The table,” Niall admitted. “It’s part of our story, and it’s being shipped out at the end of the exhibition. I miss it already. Plus, we’ve got privacy in a neutral venue.”
“Hardly neutral,” she contradicted him. “Being surrounded by your work gives you the advantage.”
“Is that so?” He’d called in every favour his family owed him, and scattered even more IOUs, to gain this advantage.
“You know it’s so. Pass me a sandwich.”
“I put pickle on yours.” He shook out a serviette, then handed a wrapped sandwich across the table. “I cut it in quarters.”
“You were feeling pretty confident I’d come,” she said.
“Hopeful is a far cry from confident.”
“If you’re trying to reprise our first meeting, I won’t let you ambush me.”
“Ambush? How?” Niall had lifted his sandwich to his mouth, but set it down again.
“Reminding me of the good times we had in the hope we can start again where we left off. It’s not going to happen. You were unhappy when I arrived that night. I was drunk. We both pretended the elephants in the room were hallucinations. Then, in the morning, we found ourselves in a different country. I’ve told you about my elephant. Why were you unhappy? Were you sabotaging us or just yourself?”
“I convinced myself not telling you about the exhibition was to protect you. You’d feel guilty knowing I’d cancelled,” he said.
“I did.” She bit into her sandwich.
“Then stop. I’ll show you my order book from tonight.” Sharing a simple sandwich with her made finding the words easier for Niall. But no matter how he dressed it up, his answer would hurt her. “The truth is, I was sabotaging us.”
She paled and placed what remained of her sandwich on the serviette. “Why?” Her gaze was shuttered; she was mentally summoning her defences, and he couldn’t blame her.
“I fell in love with—I thought I fell in love with a girl in Ireland. After Da’s death. Unconsciously, I was looking for family and fooled myself into thinking I was in love with her.”
She pushed her glass toward him. “I’m ready for another drink.”
Niall topped off both glasses. She wasn’t drinking any more than she was eating. Glasses were useful props.
“She was the person who called you a fuck buddy?” Having Lucy work it out made the next bit easier.
“I asked her to marry me.” Niall had wanted to come home and had mistaken what he’d shared with Sinead for family. “She told me not to be an eejit. That I couldn’t support myself, much less her and a babe. That I’d make more selling sex than my woodwork.” Nausea swirled in Niall’s gut, as comprehension chased confusion across Lucy’s face.
“She treated you like a body, not the lover of her dreams, and she belittled your work.” Lucy’s face scrunched in disgust. “She’s the reason you think so little of yourself and your skills?”
“She said she loved my carpentry, added her mite when I talked of establishing my own business. Right up to the moment she called me a failure.” Niall had been blindsided. And, truth be told, humiliated he’d misread her so badly. “I’d been having my own doubts—most creatives battle doubt on a regular basis—and I wanted to come home. Her plain speaking speeded up my plans.”
“Your Irish girlfriend was wrong about your ability,” she said. Tears he’d put there, shimmered in her eyes. “I have it on the best authority you’re a genius.”
“Whose authority?” I love you.
“Grandpa. He told his lawyer, his accountant and probably some perfect strangers. It’s a pity he forgot to tell me. But I’m starting to understand why he did what he did.”
“He loved you. He said you were the sunshine in his life.” And mine. When the light caught the rich shades in her hair, when she’d danced in steel-capped boots, when she’d given him a sleepy kiss goodbye as he’d slipped from her bed. Niall should have given her the words. “They didn’t know you existed. He told me he had regrets, but finding you wasn’t one of them.”
“What else did he say? Because that’s part of this muddle as well. Your ex-girlfriend—what the hell is her name?”
“Sinead. Sinead O’Brien.”
“You decided you failed Sinead, you failed your father, you failed your brother. Let’s see if I’ve got this straight. You sabotaged our relationship because you doubted your ability as a carpenter?”
“My ability to make a living from bespoke furniture,” he clarified with care. “In my head, the exhibition had become synonymous with being good enough to make a living from my work.”
“You’re leaving half of it out. Sinead tried to diminish you as a man. And I added fuel to that fire.”
“Lovers screw, they make love, and sometimes they go through the motions out of sheer friendliness. They’re overcome by lust, and they’re swamped by feelings too large to manage. We were lovers in every sense of the word, Lucy. One messy roll between the sheets can’t change that.” He leaned toward her. “The honest truth is that I turned away from you because I’d decided that the gap between us was too great. I can’t provide for you.”
“Provide for me?” She stared at him as if he’d sprouted a second head. “What the heck does ‘provide’ mean?”
“‘Providing’ was the shared pact among the men in my family. Da always felt he failed because he couldn’t save Mum’s family farm from development. It nagged at him, and I guess it nagged at me. I’ve been holding on to the idea I need to pay the bills.” He dragged a hand through his hair and clasped the back of his neck. “All the bills.”
“Did you hear what you just said? You great, patronising pillock!” She thumped a hand on the table.
“Yeah.”
“What did your mother say to your father?”
“They were partners, and that meant taking turns at being the strong, silent type.” He’d forgotten his mother had been as outraged as Lucy was.
“But that’s not good enough for you.” Her scorn was blistering. “How did Grandpa get mixed up in this? Because you decided you failed Cam McTavish as well. What did you promise him?”
“He didn’t ask for promises. He said you’d need a distraction. That it might take longer than I hoped before I got the recognition I deserved. And he apologised. I didn’t know why he apologised until I heard about the bequest.” He stopped and grimaced. “Free rent, work as a mentor—he was paying me to look after you.”
“And being the fortune-teller he was, he worked out we’d get involved and decided you needed help to provide for me. Have you lost the brain cells you were born with?” She looked magnificent in a rage. “Didn’t you consider there’s a different way to look at it?”
He’d considered every possibility until he was cross-eyed with fatigue.
“Grandpa knew you. He knew you were a decent, kind man who’d probably be kind to me. Knowing me, he guessed I’d monopolise your time trying to work out your relationship with him. That’s why he didn’t tell me. He left me a puzzle, an intellectual distraction. Dealing with me would have taken you away from your work, hence, by dying, he’d stuffed up your timeline for the exhibition. Being a decent, honourable bloke himself, he was apologising in advance.”
“Cam never told you about me,” he repeated, testing her theory to see if it made sense. “He set us both up?”
“He traded on your kindness and my determination to protect him,” she stormed.
“He gave you a puzzle to solve.”
“I need to be in control, or enough in control of myself so I don’t hurt anyone else. When Grandpa died, it was like slipping off the side of a mountain.” Her anger died. “Each time I tried to find a secure foothold, I’d slip further down. I was scrambling mentally, physically and emotionally.”
“Can I come around to your side of the table?’ Niall wanted to hold her.
“Not until we finish.” She held up a hand. “You gave me that foothold. I worked out a few things as well. I couldn’t spend as much time with him as I wanted at the end. Asking you to restore furniture gave me a reason to visit you. To talk to you about Grandpa.”
“I’m making you cry. You hate crying.” He pushed back from his chair. “You were grieving. We all do things we regret when we’re grieving. The fault for this entire mess is mine. Quinns pay their way. But they’re usually gracious about accepting help. I pushed you away.”
“Clementine challenged me to tell you the truth that night.” She hiccupped. “Although she doesn’t know about Mum. The three of us had a pact. No babies.”
“No babies?” Niall hesitated. Was this another legacy of Lucy’s childhood? “You seemed freaked by Kate and Liam’s nursery?”
“Lots of people decide not to have children. Because people are the plague on the planet. Because children should have both a mother and a father, and I’m single ...” She paused—one heartbeat, then another, before she sucked in a breath. “Being an orphan fills up your entire sense of self. It forces you to be alone when you don’t want to be alone. I couldn’t bear the thought of dying and leaving a child alone, my child alone. It’s not totally rational, like my fear about debt, but I’m afraid I’ll make some terrible mistake and hurt my child.”
“All parents are afraid of parenthood.” Niall absorbed the slap of her sorrow. He should have guessed her hesitation over a babe had nothing to do with his shortcomings. “Liam and Kate are equal parts terrified and thrilled, especially with the way the world is today.”
“Kelly, Clementine, and I got tipsy because time’s up. We either take responsibility for our futures, or we blame our crappy childhoods for every mistake we make.” She sighed.
“Do they date blokes who are happy to split bills?”
“Forget the bills.” She pushed back from the table, tears gone. “You talk to me. You listen to me. You encourage me to do and be more. And you touch me as if I’m the most precious person in your life. You provide everything I need. What do you need, Niall? More importantly, what do you want?” She was fearless.
“You talk to me. You listen to me. You encourage me to do and be more.”
“You hurt me by leaving. I want a partner, a lover, an equal, someone who respects me and doesn’t see me as McTavish’s heir. Don’t kid yourself this is about money. I don’t need money from you. I need you to love me as I am.” She made love so simple.
“I love you, Liùsaidh.” His words were a vow. “I should have told you weeks ago.”
“Are you sure?”
“I hate that you sound tentative. That I’ve planted doubt in your mind. I’m sorry for being a great, patronising pillock.” He held out his arms and offered his heart. “Can I come around to your side of the table now?”
* * *
Lucy stared at hisopen arms until his words settled in all the empty spaces in her body.
“I fell in love with you the minute you started stroking my table. I just didn’t know it.” He stood.
Joy rippled through her, a symphony of colour and light and laughter. “I fell in love with you when you served me tea in a delicate antique cup without a saucer and tricked me into eating a farmhouse sandwich.” Lucy stayed where she was.
“I fell deeper when you brought me lunch the next day.” He took a step toward the head of the table.
“You gave me your rosewood fruit bowl,” she said. The first bridge between her isolation and his friendship.
“In retrospect, I reckon that was a lure”—on his next step, he swaggered—“to bring you back. I was wrong not to talk to you about the exhibition. I’m hoping you’ll forgive me.”
“Not unless you accept the bequest.”
He was waiting for her. Tucking his hands into his pockets, he rocked back on his heels. “You want me to accept the bequest?” He feigned disbelief, but he was the one taking the risk, standing alone.
“It’s that, or the next offer is one hundred thousand dollars.” Lucy gave a take-it-or-leave-it shrug.
“Whisht, lassie, don’t be so daft. You don’t have that kind of ready cash.”
“We can meet halfway.” She pushed back from the table and took her first step.
“I’m already here, waiting for you.”
His arms closed around her. Pressing her nose against his throat, Lucy inhaled his woody scent. Content to lean against him, the desperation of the last two weeks slipped away. He wrapped her close while her arms found their way around his waist. She took the time to absorb his steadiness, to listen to his heartbeat and to believe in his love.
“I was afraid I’d hurt you too badly for you to forgive me,” he whispered against her temple.
“You asked me not to leave. I took a chance you meant that.” Lucy slid her hands inside his jacket, letting her fingertips dance over his cotton-covered chest. “The washstand gave me hope you’d decided to fight for us too.”
“You didn’t say anything about it.”
“It’s beautiful. You knew I’d never sell it.” He’d given Lucy a piece of her history and a piece of himself.
“It’s as precious as her pearls to you.” He cradled her jaw in his hand. “I’m glad you didn’t give up on me.”
“It’s the best present anyone’s ever given me.” She smiled, because finishing the wash basin demonstrated more than words ever could that she’d always been in his heart and mind.
“I love you.”
“Why don’t we give this table a workout?” She loosened his tie, pushing it into his jacket pocket, before flicking open the top button of his shirt. “That’s what you were hoping to do, wasn’t it?” She smoothed her forefingers along his collarbone, absorbing the warmth of his skin.
“It’s a pity to send it off without a christening.” His wink was sinful, his hands knowing as they cupped her buttocks to draw her against his body. Widening his stance, he settled himself more firmly between her thighs and gently rocked against her. A foretaste. “I might move the glassware first. Wouldn’t want our anniversary glasses to be bounced off the table because one of us is too enthusiastic.”
“Anniversary?” She stepped back and draped her jacket over a nearby chair.
“I have a feeling we’re going to have many.” His eyes narrowed when she started to unbutton her blouse. With more speed than care, he packed the half-eaten sandwiches and glasses into his cool box. “Leave the skirt,” he growled, shucking his jacket.
She put her hands under her skirt to push her panties down.
Strolling closer, he unbuttoned his shirt and let it hang open, tempting her to touch with more than her gaze. His fingers took their time on his belt buckle, focusing her attention on his arousal.
“Tease.” She tilted her chin and snapped open the front clip on her bra. The soft muslin of her blouse rubbed against her breasts, inciting her.
“Very nice,” he drawled, dropping his belt. His grin was pure mischief. “The boots can stay.”
Heat flooded her loins. “You are in a hurry.”
He reached her. Face to face, close enough for her to smell the urgency on his skin. He slid his calloused palms from her waist halfway down her thighs before crushing her straight skirt between his fingers. He dragged it higher, one teasing inch at a time. “Aren’t you?”
“What did you have in mind?” Excitement hummed through her.
“I’ve stopped thinking.” He scooped her up and placed her bare backside on the end of the table, before sliding a finger into her damp heat. When she moaned, he sucked her taste from his finger. “Just marking my place.”
Her heart raced, and still he waited for her. “Love me, Niall.”
His trousers and jocks landed at his feet. Still, he took his time, cupping her face for his kiss. She fell off the end of the world, and he was her only anchor. Waves of hot sweetness hit her, followed by a hunger drenched in tenderness. Dragging his mouth from hers, his gaze was fierce. “I’ve never loved another before you.” He joined them. “You taught me what love is.”
She welcomed his possession, and the sensation they were moving as one.
“Liùsaidh,” he whispered endearments with each thrust, words she treasured because from him, they were real.
She shattered moments before him, collapsing back on the table. He leaned forward on his hands.
“Now, about that one hundred thousand,” she said, sucking in oxygen.
“I’m not negotiating when you’ve got me at a disadvantage,” he panted.
“Take it or leave it.” She planted loud kisses down the centre of his chest.
Catching her hands in his, he kissed her knuckles. “I’ll accept Cam’s bequest. You keep the money.”
“I applaud your good sense.” She wrapped her legs around his hips, and he groaned.
“But I’m paying half the costs of running the house.” He manoeuvred his hands under her buttocks and squeezed gently. “When the rent-free period of my initial agreement ends, I’ll pay full commercial rent. Plus, I want a prenup.”
“I haven’t heard a marriage proposal.” She released her legs and wriggled into a more upright position, her heart giving its own drumroll.
“I was waiting to catch me breath.” He grinned “Marry me, Liùsaidh?”
“Yes, and I have another confession to make. I started to dream when I sat in Kate’s nursery.” She stroked his hair back from his brow. “I want you to have your dreams, because then you’ll understand I have mine. You’ll love our children and let them dream. Yes, I’ll marry you. I love you, Niall Quinn.”
“Maybe we should stay here all night? Give the table another workout?”
“It’ll be in our kitchen in two weeks,” she said.
“You bought it?” His look of surprised delight was worth making the purchase through an intermediary.
“It seduced me before you did.” She put her hands on his chest. “Come home with me?”
“We’re definitely having a prenup. Otherwise, you might be so crazy in love with me, you’ll give me a trust fund and present me with matched crockery and crystal glassware.”
“Only if you want them.” She slid off the table, found her panties, and tucked them in his jacket pocket with his tie. “No prenup, unless it includes a half-share in our babe’s cradle, a half-share in the mirror you’re planning for me, and a half-share in your life?” She did up enough buttons on her shirt to be decent if they were pulled over by the cops on the way home, and indecent enough to let him know what was in store when they got there.
“Deal.” He scooped her off the table and swung her in a wide circle. “Quinns pay their way.”