Chapter 8 #2
"Oscar, I need more time." She was desperate to get back the sense of peace and serenity that had existed between them just now.
With a nod, he took her arm, the intimacy fading. His heart was heavy and anything he said would be the wrong thing. Better to keep quiet.
"Please say something."
"Not now." He guided her over the uneven slope.
She opened her mouth, but one look at the grim expression on his face had her closing it. They made the rest of the journey in a miserable silence thick with tension. As soon as they stepped inside, he went to his office.
"I have some work to finish up. I'll ring for tea."
"I thought we would have lunch together on the terrace."
"I'm not hungry." He offered a strained smile. "I'll grab something when I get to the pub."
"You're going in then."
"Yes. I have some inventory to do and the shipment finally arrived from Dublin. There's also the apartment building on Moss Street that needs my attention." Moving towards her, he tipped her chin up. "Get some rest. I love you."
With that, he was gone, closing the door behind him. Going into their bedroom, she headed for her office and sat behind the desk, her thoughts troubled.
She had sensed when it was too late that he had been about to mention marriage again and had headed him off. She hurt him with her words and was sorry for it. But he knew what the deal was from the beginning.
She wasn't marriage material. She stared at the papers scattered across her desk, unable to focus.
The silence of the room pressed in on her, amplifying the lingering tension from their conversation.
She wished she could take back what she'd said or at least find the right words to bridge the growing distance between them.
But old fears held her back, memories of promises broken and hopes dashed making it hard to trust the comfort she felt with him.
Stacking the research material, her assistant had sent to her, she opened her laptop and stared blindly at the screen. Her heart wasn't in the writing. Her thoughts were too muddled.
She looked up at the knock on the door, forcing a smile as the housekeeper bustled in with a tray.
"You're supposed to be in bed."
"I'm tired of lying down and I know you're just going to go right in and report to Oscar that I'm sitting at my desk. If you notice, that's all I'm doing. Sitting." Her voice was mild, expression challenging.
"He's already left and without eating anything." Iris Kelly was a thin whip of a woman who had been with the family since before Oscar was born and was very loyal to him.
She was only now beginning to thaw towards the woman who had stolen her boy's heart. And only because she had seen where Kiara was committed to him. But he was troubled and so was she.
They had gone for a walk, looking happy and content, but had come back with unhappiness on their faces. She had never married and her only regret was never having a child of her own but considered Oscar hers.
She would do anything for him, including embracing the sometimes rude and ornery woman carrying his babies.
"What do we have here?" Kiara was determined not to show that news of his leaving had unsettled her.
"Some broth and soda bread. You need to nourish those babies you're carrying. It's mostly vegetables." Iris removed the covering with a flourish.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome." The woman fussed with the snowy white napkins and utensils. There was even a small vase of fresh daisies and daffodils on the tray. "I expect to see everything scraped clean when I get back to collect the tray."
"Yes ma'am." Kiara managed a genuine smile that had Iris beaming.
"I'll leave you alone to eat." She turned at the doorway. "That boy has never loved another woman the way he loves you. You're his first and because of it, he might appear overprotective at times."
"I understand." She assured the housekeeper. "And I love him too."
With a satisfied nod, she slipped out and closed the door behind her. It didn't surprise Kiara to find herself hungry enough to clean the bowl.
The soup was delicious, packed with vegetables and the bread was warm and fragrant. She had two slices. Smiling to herself, she figured that she had done Iris's cooking proud.
But now she was too full. Pushing from the desk, she wandered into the large mostly masculine bedroom.
Oscar had insisted that she made changes or they could use one of the other suites. There were eight bedrooms in all, each decorated with individual styles. His was an inheritance from his parents.
Several generations of O'Sullivan had occupied the room. The floor was solid oak, shone to a dull patina and with loving care. The fireplace took up one entire section of the room.
The bed was on a raised dais one could easily get lost in. Beautifully woven Indian rugs were strewn on the floor, and the closet could hold half of her cottage.
Walking to the window, she curled up on the window seat with the plump pillows and just gazed over the rolling hills. She had expressed the desire for one, just voiced her opinion of having a window seat.
The next time she came over, one had been built. It had taken her breath away and left her feeling scared. So scared that she had started an argument, accusing him of trying to trap her.
He had seen right through her. That had scared her even more. Instead of following up, of indulging her, he had simply disarmed her by wrapping his arms around her.
"I love you." The words had burned a fiery path through her and left her weepy.
She remembered how, despite her protests and uncertainty, Oscar always knew exactly what she needed, even when she couldn't voice it herself.
Moments like that made her realize how deeply he understood her, reading past her defenses and responding with a tenderness that made her feel safe, even when she tried to push him away.
Her gaze landed on a giant oak tree near the barn. It would be perfect for a tree house. Placing a hand on her bulge, she found herself wondering about the sex.
Would it be a boy and a girl? Two boys? Two girls? It really did not matter.
All she cared about was that they were healthy. And she realized something that had sneaked up on her. She desperately wanted her babies.
She had been frightened at the prospect of being a mother at first, but no longer. She wanted them and was going to do her very best to make certain they have a chance.
"You've been staring at that computer screen for the past ten minutes. What's so riveting?"
Oscar jolted slightly, an annoyed frown touching his forehead. He had been so caught up in his miserable thoughts, he hadn't heard his friend entered the office.
"Don't you have anything better to do than to sneak up on a body?"
Eric simply grinned and lowered his bulk into one of the comfortable chairs facing the desk. "Problems?"
"No." Oscar's voice was short, causing Eric's brows to lift curiously.
"With Kiara then. Has she received another letter?"
"No." Pushing away from the desk, he marched over to the cabinet to pour himself two fingers of strong Irish.
"You really should learn to shut up mate." Eric grinned when his pithy comment earned him a baleful glance.
He took a slow sip, letting the warmth settle his nerves before turning back to face Eric. The silence between them stretched for a moment, heavy with unsaid words.
Oscar finally set the glass down, the clink echoing in the quiet office, and met Eric's gaze with a weary determination. "It's just been a lot lately," he admitted, his voice softer. "Trying to figure out how to do right by everyone."
"The lady still holding out on marriage?"
"Yeah." He sat on the edge of the desk, one foot swinging slowly. "Life used to be so damn uncomplicated. In and out of a relationship, no promises made. Just having a bloody good time and a romp between the sheets."
"Now you're a man in love and about to be a father." Giving in to the urge for a smoke, Eric patted his shirt pocket and took out the slim gold case. "Mind?"
Waving a hand, Oscar gave his consent. Very soon the air was redolent of the fragrant Irish cigar Eric favored.
"I envy you." He murmured, blowing smoke towards the roof.
"Really?"
"Hmm." He grinned roguishly. "You've a fine one there mate. I wish I had seen her before. But--" He shrugged philosophically. "She's all wrapped up in you and with eyes for no one else." He eyed his friend curiously. "And I guarantee she will come around when it comes to the marriage deal."
Oscar couldn't help but chuckle, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're optimistic," he replied, shaking his head. "It's not that simple. She's stubborn, and I respect that, honestly. It's one of the reasons I fell for her in the first place."
For a moment, his gaze drifted to the window, lost in thought. "But if she does come around, it'll be on her terms." He took another sip of his whiskey.
"I want my ring on her finger and her bearing my name. I'm old-fashioned enough to want our children being born in wedlock. It might sound silly--"
"It sounds reasonable. You're not like me." Eric drew smoke deep in his lungs and held it for a second. "I was a bastard--"
"Stop--"
"No." Eric shook his head. "Padric was the only father I knew, and he did a good job of it. If it wasn't for your family, I might have ended up with a knife to my throat or with the garda on my tail." He grinned suddenly, eyes bright. "Your family saved my life."
His expression turned sober. "Cut her some slack and be patient. I know what it's like to have a lousy childhood."