‘Don’t you think I’ve tried? Don’t you think I’ve offered to bring her to London and get her the best treatment available? She doesn’t want to. She says she’s come to terms with it and I just have to accept that. I became a plastic surgeon just so I could help her, but she’s not interested.’
And even though he tried to bite down his frustration Kara noticed. Taking his hand in hers, she pulled him to sit on the bed.
‘I understand—I do. But I guess you have to let it go. If she’s come to terms with it, then so should you. She’s not an invalid—she’s a grown woman who clearly must know what she’s doing if she’s brought all you kids up.’
Kara didn’t know the half of it.
‘It’s other things she’s struggled with.’ And he couldn’t bring himself to explain. He didn’t want to even think about his father and the legacy he’d left.
Nothing about this place had any kind of reminder of his dad. Declan had made sure of that.
Kara’s hand ran down his spine in soft strokes that almost undid him. ‘I really hope your family like me. They seem lovely. All of them.’
‘You haven’t met all of them yet...that will be an experience. You did bring earplugs?’
‘For sleeping?’
‘No, for dinner. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
He grinned at her knotted brow and ached to smooth it over with his mouth. To wrap her in his arms and lie there surrounded by all the smells and sounds of home—the familiar, but with Kara, so exotic and different.
‘It gets busy, but it’s a family rule that we all eat together.’
‘That’s nice. I don’t remember many meals like that growing up. It was usually just me and one of my parents, or a nanny, or a grandparent, and then as I got older, when I came home for the holidays, it was often just me and a TV dinner.’
At her words his stomach tightened—because although he’d made a space for himself far away he couldn’t imagine growing up sitting at an empty dinner table in silence, or with only the TV for company. For him dinner had always meant chatter and good food and just the occasional argument. No wonder she’d grabbed the chance of marriage so young, to create a feeling of belonging.
She looked around the room, at the high ceiling and the intricate coving he’d designed. ‘Did you really try to build this place?’
He laughed. ‘Yes. I had a hand in all the buildings. This is a converted barn. It didn’t get damaged much in the fire, so I just had it renovated to my specs. But I had more of a go at building the main house. Pretty naive, but when you’re that young you think you can do everything.’
‘And the great Declan Underwood can’t? You do surprise me.’
It hadn’t been for lack of trying. ‘It soon became apparent that it was better for me to work as a doctor and pay someone else to do the physical work. As I earnt more we added more buildings—the barns, Niamh’s house out back, the milking shed... But I did some labouring in my spare time.’
Dark memories slid through him. The smoke and the flames, the fear that had gripped his chest, the rough thick clutch at his throat as he’d tried to breathe in a furnace.
Then the days, months, years of dealing with scars, betrayal, grief. And finally restoration.
‘Wow, that’s some responsibility you carried here. Did you work with your dad?’
‘No. He left.’
She frowned. ‘So it really was just you? On your own?’
‘Yep. Me and the builders, obviously...and the architects...’ And the insurance. And the... Hell, there’d been a lot of professionals involved. Just not the one person he’d needed.
‘But who did you ask for help? Who gave you advice?’
Would she not let it go? ‘I didn’t need any.’
‘Everyone needs someone to talk things through with, Declan. Even you. Do you still have contact with your dad?’
‘No.’
Once he’d been unable to leave his father’s side, had looked to him for everything. To learn how to do the practical things for running a farm. How to be a decent farmer. A decent man. And then...
He swallowed back the bile rising in his throat. ‘I wouldn’t want anything from him now.’
‘Why not?’
‘Forget him, Kara. I have.’
He’d tried to erase the memories. The ones where his father had carried his boy high on his shoulders. The ones where they’d been fishing, hunting, laughing. Memories he didn’t want because they weren’t real. Oh, yes, he’d believed them then—but after his father had left he’d realised they were meaningless. Because love wasn’t real—it was fleeting and flimsy and disposable. That was the one true thing he’d learnt from his father.
He looked at Kara, sitting there, not a memory. She was real, here, in front of him, and he grew hard just looking at that mouth, those eyes, that body. He wanted her, and that urgent feral response threatened to subsume him.
‘So all that hard physical work explains these, then.’
Her hand slid to his biceps and a river of desire ran through him. When her hand slipped to his chest and her fingers brushed against his abs he was lost.
‘And these too...’
That brief touch was like a spark to an ember. The next thing he knew he was leaning her back across the four-poster bed and planting kisses on her lips, on her cheeks and the sweet sun-blushed skin at her throat. And she was kissing him back—not hesitantly, not softly, but with all the intensity of a woman who needed kissing. Who wanted to be thoroughly kissed.
And that was what he told himself as he stroked his tongue in her mouth and felt her meld her body against his. She wanted this. As he peeled away the cardigan and dropped it to the floor, as he undid the tiny buttons on her blouse and unclipped the scrap of pure white lace that pretended to be a bra—because, by God, it was barely covering her straining breasts. She wanted this.
When he took her hardened nipple in his mouth and felt her moan into his hair. When she straddled him and rocked against his erection. When she kissed him hot and greedy and needy with her slick wet mouth.
Her hands were dragging his shirt away, her nails scraping along his back. Her mouth was kissing trails down his ribcage, her hair a mess of blonde against his chest. But it was her eyes that told him most, glittering dark like the most precious emeralds. She wanted this.
And, God, so did he. He wanted to be inside Kara right now—to ride her to the edge and back. To wipe away that half-smile and replace it with a sexy, satiated one. He wanted to watch her come, to taste her, to feel her clamp around him, to wake up with her in the morning. Because they had forty-eight hours to find each other before things were back on an even keel in a world where they didn’t do complicated.
But in reality losing himself in Kara wasn’t complicated at all. It was the simplest thing he’d ever done.
CHAPTER TEN
KISS ME. SHE was so on the edge of giving herself up to him.
And she didn’t want it just to stop there.
But Kara heard the sound of footsteps and giggles outside the door and pulled away from Declan, naked from the waist up. Suddenly she felt cold—and not just physically naked but psychologically laid bare too. Because making love with him would confuse everything. Kissing him like this had already stirred enough chaos in her brain.
She rested her forehead against his and laughed. ‘This sneaking around behind closed doors makes me feel like a teenager again.’
‘Unfortunately that’s the way it is here—no damned privacy. Even this far away from the house.’
He was still hard, she could feel him underneath her, but he didn’t appear to mind. He just seemed content to stroke his fingers down the curve of her body.
‘But I think it’s dinnertime. We’d best get dressed and get down there. Hungry?’
Yes, but not for food. ‘You bet.’
Fastening her bra and grabbing another top from her weekend bag, Kara made herself presentable. It was weird having him watch her do such an intimate thing that no one had seen her do since her marriage. Even weirder as he brushed by and kissed the top of her head, sheathing that gorgeous body back into his shirt. It all seemed so natural for him, this playing at being a couple. And for her it felt...strange. Connected and yet disconnected.
One thing was for sure: having seen him semi-naked, she was definitely going to miss that body when she went back to London and back to her old team.
‘So, does your mum do the cooking for you all? That must be a mission.’
‘Mostly. There was a time when she couldn’t manage, so Niamh helped, but she’s better now. Well...’
Once again something flickered behind his eyes and she wanted to ask Declan his story. Because while his mother might well be healed he still carried scars in his need to protect her.
‘She seems just a little shy, Declan, that’s all. But, hey, I don’t know her, so I don’t want to be talking out of turn.’ She changed the subject, not wanting to start the visit off on the wrong footing. ‘So, dinner...?’
‘Can wait just a few more seconds. I have something much more interesting in mind...’
He pushed her against the door and kissed her again, this time gently, like a summer breeze against her lips, his hands cradling her face. And she kissed him back, determining to enjoy the next couple of days instead of analysing them. They both knew this couldn’t go any further than a little flirtation, and she was big enough to deal with that.
* * *
The dining room was dominated by a large mahogany table and a selection of matching chairs, bright plastic highchairs and a long wooden bench. A glass chandelier gave off a subdued pearly glow. At one end of the room a large stone fireplace promised cosy winter nights, and all round the room on various dressers and bookcases were photos: a teenage Declan and his sisters, the babies, a selection of gruff-looking mongrel dogs, the farm, visitors.
As none of the pictures was of the siblings when very young, Kara suspected these had all been taken post-fire. ‘Did you lose a lot of stuff in the fire?’
‘Most everything. The house was pretty destroyed, but there were a few things we managed to save. No photos, though.’
‘None of your mum? Mam?’ Kara wanted to fit in, but the word didn’t roll off her tongue just yet. She picked up a photo of Declan aged about sixteen, grinning wildly with a stack of bricks on a hod, then glanced at another of him in graduation gown and cap. ‘My, my, how you’ve grown.’
‘I damn well hope so. I was a wiry little whipper back then. And, no, she won’t have any taken. She says she doesn’t want to ruin the pictures.’
‘But that’s such a shame.’ She bit back a question about Declan’s father. No photos of him either.
‘Dinner’s ready,’ Niamh announced, bounding in with a large casserole dish in her hands and a bottle of wine tucked under one arm.
Declan strode forward and took it from his sister. ‘Careful.’
‘Don’t you love the macho? And the manners? Where did they come from? I think you’ve knocked some sense into my brother, Kara. It’s about time someone did.’ Niamh leaned towards her. ‘So, the others are here. Take a deep breath and then let it out very slowly...oh, and take a big slug of wine to help calm your nerves. Let the chaos begin!’
And within a second Kara was enveloped in hugs and hands and smiling faces, her ears filled with musical names and lyrical-sounding words. She was found a seat next to Declan, given a plate filled with steaming chunks of meat covered in a dark rich gravy, large mounds of creamy mashed potatoes and a glass of red. And she was smiling with Aoife, laughing at Roisin’s tales of medical school, feeding one of the little ones in a highchair, and everything under the protective gaze of Declan. It was exhausting, but lovely.
‘So, Declan’s never brought a girl home before. Spill the beans...how did you two meet?’
It was Briana, the romantic of the family. She’d already told Kara about her dream wedding dress, the honeymoon, the number of babies she’d have. All she needed to do was find the right man. Kara didn’t say anything about her own past, wanting Briana to hold on tight to her dreams, because every girl deserved them.
‘At work—well, kind of...’
Declan grinned as his foot connected with Kara’s under the table. His toes slid up her leg until she realised she must have been grinning like an...how did he say it? An eejit. An intense sexual need ran through her veins.
Then his hand shifted over to her lap and his fingers tiptoed towards her thigh. She squirmed in her seat.
‘At a ball, no less. Kara wore a long gold gown and taught me a few Aussie swear words and a drinking game...a lot of tequila was involved. I knew immediately that she was the girl for me.’
And he grinned his goofy grin and made it sound, truly, as if they were made for each other. He never mentioned how she’d left him standing on the dance floor after a searing kiss that had turned her legs to jelly and her brain to mush. And heaven knew what they were doing here—doing this. Because she didn’t have a clue. Except that she wished his hands were running over every part of her.
‘Ah, a ball...every girl’s dream. So romantic.’ Briana clapped her hands together. ‘And the wedding?’
Whoa. Kara spluttered into her wine as she felt Declan’s grip on her thigh tighten.
‘Has not been discussed.’
‘Leave it alone, Bri. They don’t need you meddling in their business. Remember, Kara’s our guest. Be polite.’
Declan’s mother’s voice soothed the conversation. Kara realised the older woman had been observing, but hadn’t actually spoken until now. Everyone stilled and looked at her with surprise. Was it so unusual for her to contribute to a conversation?
‘Kara, tell us, have you visited Ireland before?’
‘No. Not at all, apparently I have ancestors here somewhere—County Wicklow, I think. I can’t wait to have a sticky bea...a good look round tomorrow. Declan said he’d take me for a drive.’
‘A drive?’ Briana looked horrified. ‘I thought he’d be teaching you how to milk cows. You know, in the cowshed...’ Now she winked. ‘Down and dirty...’
‘Briana! You have a dirty mind,’ Niamh interjected. ‘Er...how about a spot of shopping? I could come with you.’
‘We thought we’d take a look at the city on the way back to the airport on Sunday,’ Kara answered, turning her head this way and that to speak to them all. ‘He knows a good pub that sells great food.’
‘Sure, Dec knows all the pubs with the best craic,’ added Roisin with a wink. As the baby of the family, she clearly adored her big brother.
Uh-oh. Dictionary required. ‘What’s crack?’
‘Craic.’ Roisin laughed. ‘It means fun. A laugh. There’s plenty of it in Dublin. And while you’re there you could come have a look round the Trinity College campus. It’s beautiful. Actually, you could give me a ride back there on Sunday.’
‘What about a horse-ride? There’s a trail over the hills that takes you down to the river—it’s pretty special.’ Aoife joined in, her hand never leaving that of her quiet fiancé, Ronan, and soon everyone had voiced their ideas of how to entertain an out-of-town guest.
Kara looked to Declan for an opinion, taking comfort in the fact that his hand was still on her lap and that the spotlight had moved on from their nuptials. His smile was slow and made her stomach flutter. She got the impression, with the smouldering heat in his eyes, that Declan’s idea of entertaining his out-of-town guest was nothing at all to do with going out and everything to do with staying in.
‘Whatever you want, Kara.’
I want you. She swallowed deeply, wondering just
how much deeper she had to fall before she could harden herself to him completely. ‘Wow, there are so many fabulous things to do here. I’ll let you decide.’
When Declan squeezed her thigh...this time higher...much higher...Kara almost choked on her white chocolate and raspberry cheesecake.
* * *
Afterwards, when everyone was helping to clear up in the kitchen, Kara offered to help but was flatly refused. Irish hospitality, she supposed.
‘Okay, but it’s the party tomorrow, is that right? What do we do? What do I need to bring? Do you need help with anything?’
Niamh gently held her by the shoulders. ‘No. Absolutely not. Now, we’ve a few things to do in here, but you go and sit down. Tomorrow you can do some sightseeing, and in the evening we’ll have a cake.’
‘Here, have another drink. It helps. Trust me, I know.’
Declan topped up Kara’s glass while jiggling the small child sitting on his shoulders up and down. For all his self-imposed exile he’d managed to slip right back in and seemed, despite himself, to be enjoying his time here.
Because, whatever Declan said to the contrary, he was a family man through and through. She could see that from the pure joy in his eyes as he piggybacked each child in turn, as he lost himself deep in conversation with Roisin about her grades, as he watched his mother with a look in his eyes that spoke of his regret and a fierce love.
‘Wait! Just wait a minute—let me get my camera. I so need to remember all of this.’
Kara dashed out to the barn and back and took a series of snaps of Declan with a variety of relatives and ankle-biters playing the fool, flicking each other with washing up foam. And then one with all the siblings looking reasonably decent and the children smiling. Mostly.
‘Now, that’s one for the album.’
Out of the corner of her eye she caught Mary watching, her eyes guarded, her shyness now morphing into embarrassment about being caught on camera. Kara raised her eyebrows in question...do you want to join in? But Mary turned away and shoved her hands in the soapy water.
200 Harley Street: The Shameless Maverick Page 12
