Dedicated to Deirdre

by Winston, Anne Marie

  She had picked up a green glass paperweight his mother had given him after he sold his first book. The myriad shades of green swirling and slicing through the glass represented the forty shades of the green of Ireland. His mother was proud of that heritage and didn’t hesitate to remind him of it at any opportunity. It struck him that his mother and hers would have a high old time together discussing their favorite topic.

  “This is something I miss,” she said wistfully, running a fingertip over his beloved P.C. “Nelson got the computer, and I haven’t replaced it yet. I need to do it soon, though. The boys are old enough to be getting accustomed to a keyboard.”

  As she turned away and prowled around the room, examining things here and there, he looked at the rounded curve of her breast and her slender hips. She still was not showing any evidence of her pregnancy, but she was filling out her clothing more like he remembered. Her hair was loose, the way he loved it, and he fought the urge to go to her and plunge his fingers into the thick, curling mass, to drag her against him and press those sweet, yielding hips to his. But he knew they needed to get back to the house. He wasn’t any more comfortable leaving the boys than she was, even if they were just next door.

  The boys. She was a great mother. She never gave herself a thought without relating it to how it would affect her children.

  Children. A sudden flash of intuition swept through him. She would be doing that for his child soon.

  The thought brought with it a humbling sense of responsibility, and he allowed the plan that had been tumbling through his head for days to coalesce into a firm course of action. She was going to marry him. There was no way he was going to let a child of his grow up without a father and a family. Besides, she loved him. She’d said so.

  Aloud, he said, “I’ve been letting them fool around with my laptop a little bit But I’ll make arrangements to have this one moved over to the house now. Where do you think we should put it?”

  She turned and looked at him, a puzzled frown digging two little vertical dents into the space between her eyebrows. “Why on earth would you move your computer into my house?”

  “I’ll be living there,” he pointed out. “I figured we should just go ahead and get married.”

  She let her hand drop from his computer and turned to look at him. Her eyes resembled the shades of color in his paperweight, shifting and changing so fast he couldn’t discern her thoughts. “Married?”

  He shrugged. Keep it casual. Act as if it’s no big deal. “You’re pregnant with my baby. We ought to give it my name.”

  She simply stared at him.

  Crossing the room, he took her hands in his. “I think we should get married, Deirdre. Your sons need a real father in their lives. You’re going to want to spend more time with this baby once it’s born, and I don’t want you worrying about working to make ends meet.” She didn’t say a word, and he couldn’t read her eyes. He supposed she needed more convincing, and he put a hand to her breast, lightly rubbing his thumb against the very tip of her nipple until he felt the little bud spring to firm life. “Our bodies have already agreed that we’re a good match.”

  She closed her eyes, and he continued to caress her as he spoke again. “I don’t mind that the decision was forced on me. In fact, the more I think about marriage, the better I like the idea.”

  Her hand lifted, settled around his wrist, and after another moment she pulled his hand away from her breast. Her eyes opened, smoky green with unfulfilled desire. “What do you mean, the decision was forced on you?” Her tone was merely curious.

  “You know,” he said. “This whole deal with you getting pregnant.”

  “I don’t want you to feel forced into marrying me.” Her eyes had cleared. They were strangely cool, and the first warning of impending danger grabbed him by the throat.

  “It isn’t exactly like that,” he protested. Inspiration struck. “You told me you loved me. If you love me, there’s no problem.”

  “I guess there isn’t, from your perspective,” she said slowly.

  She was agreeing! He pushed on, anxious to get this behind them so they could get on to more important things, like baby names and his travel schedule. “I can have my lawyer get a prenuptial agreement together in a day or so. We could probably get married by the end of the month. How does that sound?”

  She didn’t answer him, and he put a finger beneath her chin, tipping her face up to his. But she stepped back, out of his hands, linking her fingers together in front of her. “It all sounds very practical, Ronan. You’ve thought of almost everything.” She took a deep breath. “I’m going to pass on the proposal. Thanks, but no thanks, as they say.”

  The vise around his throat tightened. She couldn’t say no! “Why?” he managed to croak.

  She regarded him steadily, and a single tear welled up in her eye and spilled down her cheek, slipping into the corner of her mouth. Her tongue came out and whisked over the shining trail it had made, and her lip quivered, but she didn’t respond.

  “It’s the prenup, isn’t it?” he said. “You don’t want to sign anything that might prevent you from keeping half my assets if we divorce.”

  Her cheeks paled. She was silent.

  “That’s it, isn’t it?” He crossed his arms and shrugged. “It’s good business. I have no intention of watching you walk away with half my fortune if we divorce. Not that I think that will happen,” he added hastily.

  She shook her head, and there was a sad, haunted quality to her eyes when she raised them to his again. “I didn’t say no because of that. But now that you mention it, a prenuptial contract would be a problem for me. I don’t believe in entering a marriage with an escape hatch. I would never leave you.”

  “How do I know that? You left Nelson.” He knew it was a crummy thing to say, but she had turned this whole thing around and put him on the defensive. Why was this such a big deal?

  Any hints of color that remained in her face had drained away, and she put a hand on the back of a chair. He reached forward, sensing she needed support, but she backed away from his grasp. “I would never leave you,” she repeated, “because you would never cause me to fear for my safety or my children’s. You’re not a Nelson.”

  “So why won’t you marry me?” It was a bellow of frustration.

  “If you don’t know why, there’s no point in continuing this conversation,” she said softly.

  He was too stunned to move. As he stood like a stupid stone, still turning her words over and over in his head without having any sense of their meaning, she turned and slipped out of the apartment, pocketing her baby monitor as she went. “Don’t follow me down. I’ll be fine.”

  He couldn’t have followed her if he’d wanted to. He didn’t believe it. She had refused to marry him. A great yawning hole of blackness swirling with questions and unfinished thoughts prevented him from going after her and demanding an explanation. His proposal was sensible, right down to the prenuptial agreement. Surely she could see that. And if it wasn’t a prenup that bothered her, what was wrong? Why had she said no?

  Panic welled up. He couldn’t imagine a life without her. He’d gotten comfortable living with a family a whole lot quicker than he’d ever have believed, especially with two little hellions like Lee and Tommy around. But he’d liked the way they seemed to need him. He liked knowing that Deirdre was just a few steps away in another room. He liked everything about being part of a family.

  Well, okay, so he didn’t particularly enjoy the cooking end of the deal. But she probably didn’t, either. It just came with the territory.

  And, even though he had never gotten the chance to try it out, he knew that he would like sharing a bed with her every night. Actually sleeping with her cuddled in his arms, the way they’d dozed during that afternoon at the harbor. All night. Even after the wild, runaway desire that she stirred in him had been slaked, he still had wanted to hold her. Had needed it, he corrected himself.

  He’d never felt that way about Sonja.
In fact, he’d known going into his first marriage that he needed a certain amount of space. He hadn’t particularly liked her hovering over him, always reaching for his hand, wanting to sit in his lap. He really hadn’t liked the way she’d twined herself around him at night—he’d found it hard to get a decent night’s sleep with another person right in his face.

  But he didn’t mind any of those things with Deirdre. In fact, he wanted to touch her as much as she did him, casually renewing their bond with the intimate contacts, the way he’d seen other couples do. He loved the way she felt snuggled into his lap, and recently he’d caught himself waking from sleep reaching for her, before he remembered she was in another bed in a room down the hall. He deserved a gold medal for resisting the voice in his head that told him to walk down the hall and slide into bed with her, just pull her against him and sink into the sweet oblivion of sleep with her in his arms, where she belonged.

  As he slowly locked the apartment and left the stable, he knew he wouldn’t get any sleep tonight. And it wasn’t just because he had a bedroom down the hall from hers. He’d been blindly refusing to acknowledge his feelings for weeks, but he couldn’t put it off any longer.

  He cared for Deirdre more than he could remember ever caring for another woman in his life. If he wasn’t such a chicken, he’d even say...he loved her. He loved her! He wasn’t sure when the all-consuming passion he knew whenever he was around her had transformed itself into a feeling that endured whether or not she was nearby, but he suspected it had been about three seconds after he’d laid eyes on her in that grocery store. Hell, he’d been half in love with his fantasy Deirdre already. The real thing had been so much more...more real that he’d been reeling from its impact ever since.

  He loved her. He needed her to complete his life, to complete him.

  But she’d walked away.

  With the sudden wisdom always conferred by hindsight, he knew what she’d needed to hear from him tonight. She hadn’t needed lists of practical reasons or personal advantages.

  If you don’t know why, there’s no point in continuing this conversation.

  How could he have missed the pain in those soft words? He’d even hammered the hurt in deeper when he’d used her love for him in his damned list.

  She needed his love. She had needed to hear him say the words, the words he’d been resisting even thinking...and he’d missed the opportunity. So how in hell could he convince her to give him another chance?

  The next day she acted as friendly and normal as if the wrenching conversation last night had never occurred. Although Ronan noticed she didn’t quite meet his eyes when she looked his way. Instead, her gaze bounced off his temple and skittered away. He practically had to tie his tongue down to keep from saying anything about marriage. Or love.

  He could feel his patience being whittled away and he forced himself to grab it and hang on with both hands. In just a short while, they’d have time to talk. Deirdre’s mother had returned from her trip and was coming to get the boys this evening for an overnight visit. Deirdre hadn’t told her mother about her pregnancy yet; he knew she’d planned to do it tomorrow evening, when her parents were coming for dinner. She’d still wanted to tell them alone quietly, but he’d told her he would crash the meeting if she didn’t include him. The speed with which she’d capitulated told him how much she needed his support, even if she hadn’t said it.

  But would she still allow him to be there now?

  Mrs. Halleran showed up while he was clearing the dinner dishes. Deirdre had been sitting tensely by a front window watching for her mother. As the car came down the lane she hustled the boys outside. Her mother probably thought it was peculiar of her daughter not to invite her in for a chat, since she’d been away for two weeks, but Deirdre might have claimed her work as an excuse. And they’d have plenty of time to talk tomorrow evening...though he doubted the Hallerans’ trip would be the big topic.

  As the car pulled out of the driveway, he drained the sink and hung up the dishcloth. His pulse felt quick and his breath was shallow, as if he’d just received a shot of adrenaline. Now. Now he could tell her how mistaken he’d been last night. Now he could—hey!

  Deirdre was climbing into her car.

  He raced out the door like he was still a sprinter for his old high school team, reaching the side of the car just as she turned the key. Over the low growl of the engine, he demanded, “Where are you going?”

  “To the corner store.” She glanced at his temple again. “I know I haven’t driven in a while. I’ll be careful.”

  “The doctor didn’t tell you you could drive.”

  “He didn’t tell me I couldn’t,” she said. “I just felt too lousy before.”

  “When you come back—”

  “I’ve been thinking—” They both started to speak at once.

  Then they both stopped. Ronan gestured impatiently. “You first.”

  She nodded. “Ronan, there’s no need for you to stay in the house tonight since the boys aren’t here. And I’ve been thinking—I’m feeling well enough to deal with breakfast and bedtime next week, so I won’t need you to stay with us anymore. If you don’t mind, I’d still appreciate the help with lunch and dinner.” She smiled nervously, meeting his eyes for the first time. “And laundry. Now, what were you going to say?”

  She was kicking him out! He searched for words, but couldn’t remember what he’d started to say. “You can’t kick me out.”

  She winced. “I didn’t really think of it as kicking you out. I appreciate everything you’ve done to help.” She swallowed. “I know I was ungracious at first, but it meant a lot to me. I do want this baby, and I know you do, too. We don’t have to be in a rush to start working out the parenting arrangements—I know your schedule isn’t very regular, so I’m willing to be flexible about the times you take the baby.”

  “That isn’t what I want to discuss.” He knew his voice was abrupt, but he couldn’t help it. She seemed to be one step ahead of him on the wrong road all the time, and he was damn tired of it. “When you get back from the store,” he said in a menacing tone, “we are going to sit down and talk about our relationship. About you and me. And you are going to listen to what I have to say before you work out any more plans in your head.”

  She hung her head for a moment as if she were incredibly weary. When she raised it again, there was troubled determination in her face. “We pretty much said anything necessary last night, Ronan. And I’m not into dragging my feelings out to be stomped on again and again.” Her lower lip trembled, and she bit down on it fiercely. “When I get back from the store, I’m going into my workroom.” She put the car in gear and slowly started to move. “And I expect you to be moved out of my house.”

  Out of her house? Not a chance, he thought, watching her car negotiate the potholes in the lane. All right. Fine. Let her drive away. He was going to take a walk. A long walk. And then they were going to talk. Whether or not she liked it.

  She loved him, dammit! And she wasn’t walking away from what they had just because he’d been too dumb to figure it out for a while.

  He whistled for Murphy, who was lounging on the porch, watching him with sleepy eyes. At the first hint of encouragement, Murphy leaped up and barreled off the steps toward him.

  Ronan bent to scratch the thick-furred ears. “At least somebody around here is glad to see me.” The words sounded pretty pitiful, even to him.

  She was just getting out of the car with the quart of milk she didn’t really need when the sound of a car’s tires crunching down the lane reached her ears. She frowned, straining to see in the darkening evening. She wasn’t expecting anyone.

  It was a light-colored sedan of some kind, she could see that as it crested the ridge. And as it came toward her, closer and closer, a thick ball of apprehension lodged in her stomach.

  It was Nelson.

  Her mind raced as he drew the car to a halt and stepped out. What was he doing? How had he found her?

 
Thank God the boys weren’t here. Thank God. And in her rearview mirror, she’d seen Ronan take Murphy with him when he’d started to walk back across the field earlier. A good thing, considering how Murphy felt about her ex-husband. It seemed luck was with her. So maybe, just maybe, she could get rid of Nelson before anything awful happened.

  Ronan. She stifled the wave of longing. He didn’t love her. Or he’d have told her so last night. And despite the desire to simply say, “Yes!” to his carefully-outlined stupid proposal of marriage, with its insulting conditions, she’d walked away. She couldn’t live with him for the rest of her life, receiving only his physical adoration, sharing this child and maybe more, without her heart wilting and shriveling into nothing, without becoming bitter and mean. And she loved him too much to do that to him.

  “Deirdre! You’re looking well.”

  A shiver of revulsion rippled through her, raising goose bumps on her arms and making the back of her neck prickle uncomfortably. She wasn’t afraid of Nelson, exactly, though she probably should be. It was more of the back-away-from-a-really-foul-odor variety feeling she was experiencing. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “You know you shouldn’t be here.”

  He waved a hand through the air in dismissive contempt. “So says some dumb judge who doesn’t even know us.” He stepped closer, and she realized there was something strange in his eyes. Something unsure. “I want—I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes. If you don’t mind.”

  This new obsequious deference was as threatening to her as his normal dominant demeanor. At least then she’d known what he was thinking as he’d shouted at her. “All right,” she said cautiously.

  He started around her, toward the house.

  “No,” she said, surreptitiously checking her watch. “We can talk here.” She didn’t want him befouling her home with his presence. Her life now was Nelson-free and she wanted to keep it that way. She didn’t want to picture him sitting in her kitchen.

  Her ex-husband turned around, and she read surprise in his lifted eyebrows. She rarely had stood up to him in the past. But all he said was “All right.” He backed up and leaned against her car, drawing out a cigarette. “So. How’ve you been?”