Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
TEAGAN
Teagan woke, her eyes popping open with the sudden awareness that she’d let her guard down. It took only seconds to recognize the cozy warmth of Noah’s cabin with the lingering scents of woodsmoke and pine.
Except she wasn’t on the couch, where she’d apparently passed out. She was in the bed, tucked between fleece sheets. A vague memory surfaced, one of being cradled in strong arms while a deep voice murmured soothing words against her ear.
The cabin was quiet, except for the low hum of the water heater and Bear’s rumbling snores. The beast was pressed against her, a solid wall of comfort.
Her senses told her that Noah wasn’t around.
She didn’t know if she was relieved or disappointed.
Succumbing to Noah’s special brand of care while exhausted and under the influence of pain meds was one thing; she could argue that she wasn’t in her right mind.
Doing so while awake and lucid meant she’d made a conscious choice.
Not that it was horrible. On the contrary, having a man like Noah taking care of her was the kind of thing she dreamed about. That was what made it so dangerous.
She sat up slowly, testing sore muscles. The stiffness was already better than last night, but she had a long way to go. In retrospect, facing Josh while recovering from her previous injuries hadn’t been her brightest move.
Her gaze landed on the small kitchen table, where a single folded piece of paper sat. The handwriting was blocky and precise, not what she would have expected from a doctor.
Up at the house. Back soon.
Short. To the point. Lacking sentiment.
Good.
A softer note might have tempted her into believing there was more to his attention than basic chivalry and a tendency to focus on someone else’s problems instead of his own.
Still, her fingers brushed over the words before she set it back down. Regardless of motive, Noah had been kinder to her than anyone. Ever.
A soft chuff brought her attention to Bear, now awake and watching her, his tail thumping against the bed. He stretched, yawned, and slunk off the bed, padding over to nudge her knee. She scratched behind his ears.
“I guess it’s time we both got up, huh?” she murmured. “I don’t know about you, but I really need to pee.”
Bear panted back at her, which she took for agreement.
She took care of necessities, then donned the coat Noah had gotten her and stepped outside. The air was cold but refreshing, and her stiffness eased a little more with each cautious step.
Instead of going to the house, she followed the worn path toward the stables. Bear trotted ahead like he knew where she was headed.
Horses were, and always had been, her port in the storm.
Halfway there, she heard voices—Martin’s gruff, warm tone and another one, lower and smoother, carrying an Irish cadence that made her stop short.
Donal O’Callaghan.
Was he staying here? Or had he come to see her?
Her pulse skipped before evening out again. She could turn back and return later, after he was gone. That would be the easiest thing to do. But avoiding him wouldn’t change the truth, whatever that was.
Bear nudged her hip in encouragement. Teagan squared her shoulders and stepped inside the barn.
Martin looked up from the open stall, offering a kind smile. “Morning, Teagan. You’re looking better today.”
“Morning, and thanks,” she said with a slight nod before her eyes found Donal.
He stood just beyond the stall, one hand resting on the doorframe, the other holding a pair of expensive-looking leather gloves.
Fine lines were visible at the corners of his eyes, and his glossy black hair was threaded with more silver than she’d originally thought.
But those eyes were steady, and the same piercing blue she saw in the mirror every morning.
“Teagan,” he greeted, his Irish accent giving her name a slightly different pronunciation.
She stopped just inside the door, keeping distance between them. “Mr. O’Callaghan. I wasn’t expecting to see you. Are you staying here?”
“No. At a hotel.”
That made her feel a little better. She shifted her weight to take some of the pressure off her aching back. “Honestly, I thought you’d be gone by now. That’s more your style, right?”
His jaw flexed, but his tone was calm when he said, “I thought you might have questions.”
Well, he was right about that. So many questions, she didn’t know where to start. Or if she wanted to.
“Why don’t we take this inside, where it’s warm?” Martin suggested. “You can use my study. I’ll have Molly put on a fresh pot.”
After a pause, Teagan nodded. “All right.”
Inside, the study was all dark wood and quiet strength. She caught distant voices elsewhere in the house but didn’t encounter anyone on the way. That was fine with her, even if Noah’s presence might have made it easier.
She took the chair by the fireplace. Donal sat adjacent—near enough to be heard, far enough to give her space.
She wondered if this was as much of a shock to him as it was to her. Discovering he had a daughter after all these years probably hadn’t been on his Bingo card. How he felt about it—that was the question. Pleased? Pissed off? Poleaxed?
His calm, controlled expression gave nothing away.
They sat in uneasy silence until Martin brought in a tray of coffee, tea, and some of Mrs. Ziegler’s incredible breakfast pastries, then exited, closing the door behind him. Donal helped himself to tea while she poured herself a steaming mug of coffee. Neither one touched the pastries.
“Ask,” Donal commanded softly.
Teagan sat back, cradling the mug in her hands. “You said you didn’t know about me until yesterday. How is that possible?”
“An excellent question.” His gaze didn’t waver. “Your mother and I were together only a short while.”
“Long enough, apparently,” she muttered.
“I didn’t know she was pregnant when I was called back to Ireland. I would’ve taken her with me if I had.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I wanted to, believe me.”
“But?” she prompted.
“I had to leave suddenly, and she had a life here.”
A tidy answer. Clean. Nothing in his tone rang false.
“Tell me something about her,” Teagan said.
Donal’s mouth curved faintly, not in amusement, but in memory.
“She had a gift with animals,” he said softly.
“Especially horses. She preferred chrysanthemums to roses. She couldn’t eat scrambled eggs without drenching them in ketchup.
And she had a voice like an angel. I could listen to her for hours. ”
Teagan didn’t remember much about her mother, but she did remember a hauntingly beautiful voice singing her back to sleep after a nightmare. The memory landed low in her chest.
“What color was the sweater she wore the last time you saw her?”
He answered without hesitation, “Sea green, with a loose stitch at the cuff that she kept meaning to mend.”
Teagan had no way of knowing if that was true, but he spoke with absolute conviction.
She asked more—some questions genuine, some meant to trip him up. He answered them with a quiet steadiness, wrapped in a grief so tangible that it squeezed her chest.
“You loved her.”
“Aye,” he murmured. “Maggie was the love of my life. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her.”
Donal’s gaze slid over Teagan’s shoulder toward the door, and she knew without looking that Noah was on the other side.
“Your young man grows impatient.”
“Noah is not mine.”
Donal smiled, but it was a sad smile. “Your mother said the same of me once, and I was fool enough to let her believe it. I hope Noah is a smarter man.”