Chapter 1 #2
"I'm thinking of cancelling. I'm in the middle of doing some research for my next book, which takes everything out of me." She smiled. "Your son is terrified that my moodiness will increase drastically. Which it probably will." She rubbed her belly unconsciously.
"I wish you would agree to come to Ireland and stay for a bit. We would love to have you there to spoil."
"Oscar would not hear of it. And he cannot leave now. Opening another pub is taking his time. This one is different."
"The boy is a perfectionist." There was a proud lilt to Maeve's lovely voice that had the envy stirring inside her.
"That he is." She responded lightly and reached for her glass of lemonade.
"Don't mean to pry."
Oscar sent him an amused indulgent glance as he measured out the required amount of scotch. "Da, you know when you start a sentence that way, means you have every intention of doing just that, right?"
Padric flashed his charming smile and uttered his thanks. They were in the small living room overlooking the pool where Oscar could keep an eye on his woman.
"You got me boyo." Taking his drink with him, he wandered over to the window to look out at the beautiful sight. His eyes lingered with pleasure on the woman who had caught his eyes when he was but a wee lad and always wondered how he got so lucky.
He always considered himself a plain looking man. His Maeve was out of his league, but who knew? Now his son's lady was quite the looker. He had never been hung up on the color of a person's skin but never thought his son would fall for a black woman. Go figure.
He liked her a lot, even considered Kiara his daughter, but knew that there was an aloofness and a reserve that kept people at arm's length.
"When are you going to make an honest woman out of her?"
The question was a sore spot for him and not even the man who given him life was entitled to an explanation. Taking a sip of the scotch, he aimed his eyes on the woman who had twisted him into knots since the moment he laid eyes on her.
She was work, and that was probably a bloody understatement.
There had been times he had wanted to give up on her. She had rebuffed him too many times to count, throwing his love back in his face and disappearing for a couple of weeks without letting him know where she was.
When she finally returned, he had let loose and called her selfish and a coward. Her anger had bucked with his and they had ended up tearing at each other. Christ Almighty, his feelings for her were so powerful, he felt as if he was drowning at times.
"Whenever she accepts the fact that marriage is not a prison sentence." He murmured, his eyes still trained on her. He had been dreaming and hoping that she would carry his child. And now she was carrying two. He was trying to tell himself that he would give her time. "She's spooked."
Padric nodded, standing shoulder to shoulder with his son. "Her mother, she knows?"
Oscar shook his head, expression bleak. He had been brought up to be respectful especially to the fairer sex, but Victoria Landan was a case he had never come up against before. And he tried to stay as far away from her as possible.
He had gone with Kiara a few times to visit her in the retirement community she was now living and decided it would be better to stay away.
Listening to the woman's complaints and her snide comments to her own daughter was trying his patience and his anger.
He had to be reminding himself the woman was her mother.
His innate sense of protection was making it difficult for him to just stand there and listen while she struck out at the woman he loved.
"No."
"Quite a piece of work, she is."
"That's putting it mildly." Oscar's expression was grim. "It often amazes me that out of all that bitterness and anger, something wonderful was produced." His gaze softened as he continued to look out the window. "God, she's so beautiful." He watched, unaware of the look his father was giving him.
"She's afraid of being a bad mother. There's no fear of that, because she's so warm and loving.
She secretly gives to the various children homes across the county, you know.
And refuses to have her picture taken. She would go every now and again to sit with the children and bring them treats.
" He shook his head. "She's going to make a terrific mother. "
Padric dropped a large hand on his son's shoulder. "And you boyo are very far gone."
Tearing his eyes from his woman, he flashed his father a grin. "Without a doubt."
"You overdid it." He muttered as he handed her the cup of tea. She was starting to think that she was going to drown in the stuff and would give up a limb for some strong Columbian. The fact that she had existed on the brand, pots of it while writing, made her feel nostalgic and depressed.
"I swam and took a walk." She sipped and grimaced. "As far as I know, those two things are good for the pregnant woman." She eyed him over the rim as he moved around with that careless grace of his, picking up her things.
That was something else about them. He was as neat as a pin and she was a slob. Years of living in a regimented household dictated by a tyrannical mother had taken its toll. When she left to go to college, she promised herself she would live as she pleased.
After a time, it became a habit. Whenever she was writing, she hardly had time to take a bathroom break, much less pick up after herself.
When she's at the cottage, she had a cleaning service twice a week. She would lock herself away and let them do their thing. Here, there were servants underfoot.
"You were as sick as a dog." He pointed out. Lowering himself next to her, he turned her so he could rub her feet. "Lie back on the pillows."
"I suppose I should not complain about you acting like an overprotective..." He lifted his head to look at her when she stopped and knew what had popped into her head.
"Darling."
She shook her head, determined not to get depressed. "I have to go and see her. I cannot tell her something like this over the phone."
He continued to rub her insteps, careful to rein in his anger. He hated that she suffered so. When he finally broke through her reluctance to be with him, she had confessed one night after a very vigorous lovemaking, what her life was like. And how it was with her mother.
He had been appalled at the things she told him. His life was charmed. He had loving parents who still touched each other enough to make him and his sister embarrassed.
They had been brought up in a loving home and comfortable in the fact that they were loved unconditionally. Anger and rage had consumed him at first and then the incredible sadness. His first instinct had been to wipe it all away.
He was trying hard not to hate the woman for putting her through this.
"I will come with you."
"No..."
"That wasn't a question." He moved up to her calves and smoothed out the tension there. "I told you I will be there for you. It includes visits to your mother."
She studied him over the cup and felt love flowing through her. He was determined. She had rebuffed him enough, insulted him, bruised his ego and his pride and still he kept coming back. The man was pigheaded enough not to take no for an answer.
She had originally thought it was just sex, but oh wrong she was! The sex was fantastic of course, the love scenes she managed to conjure up on the pages pale in comparison to what happens between them. But it was the caring and patient way he was with her.
After seeing what her daddy went through, she had sworn never to give her heart to a man. She also had the secret fear of treating one the way her mother had treated her father.
"I told you I was a bad bet." She was close to tears and felt vulnerable, something she swore would never happen to her either.
"You're pissing me off." His deep voice was mild, but she knew him enough to realize that when his Irish lilt was more pronounced she should watch out.
"Well, I did." Suddenly, she did not feel like being reasonable. "My mother..." She sneered the word. "She is going to spoil it. I know exactly what she's going to say. What she always says." She was putting the cup down, when his voice snapped out. "Bloody drink it. All of it!"
She blinked at the mask of fury that came over his handsome face.
"How dare you..."
"I dare because I love you. Damn it." He put her feet carefully on top of the sheets. Even in anger, he was always careful not to hurt her, and the gesture twisted her inside. She wasn't used to his brand of caring and it made her feel like the worst kind of bitch.
Rising, he started to pace. Staring at him, she could not help but think he reminded her of a magnificent jungle animal about to erupt.
"Are you projecting, Kiara?" He rounded on her, eyes hot.
"Do you want our babies? Is that what this is about then?
Is it inconvenient for you to be pregnant?
Am I the only one happy that we are going to be sharing something tangible? "
Putting the cup down, even though she wanted to hurl it, she sat up, her own eyes flashing.
"I'm the one going through the damn symptoms. I'm the one who feels like the worst kind of shit.
So, don't you stand there and throw those questions at me.
I'm entitled to feel like crap and won't apologize for it. "
The silence that followed her outburst was heavy and strained. Then without a word, he turned on his heels and left the room.