by Renee Ryan
She didn’t want to be angry at him, and yet she was, very much so. “It’s safe enough for the Coulters.” She looked over her shoulder, as though searching out the elderly couple to prove her point. “If you’re so concerned, why not insist they leave, as well?”
“They live in the bedroom off the kitchen.” He moved closer toward her, his entire bearing begging her to give in.
Despite her annoyance at him, Bridget was captured by the fluid way he moved, the masculine vitality that encircled him. “What does the location of their room have to do with anything?”
“The first floor is sound enough.” He spoke through a tight jaw. “It’s the second floor that needs considerable repairs, especially the steps. I won’t have you risking your neck every time you climb up to your room.”
His explanation was not given smoothly, but with a rough sincerity that told her he wasn’t trying to order her about as she’d first suspected. He was genuinely worried about her.
“You’re concerned for my safety,” she said, unable to hide the awe in her voice. No man other than her da had ever put her safety first, not like this, not to the point of arguing with her.
“Of course I’m concerned.” He blew out a frustrated hiss, the sound reminding her he was a man used to taking charge. “I’ll fix the stairs before I leave and Cam is already up on the roof mending the largest hole and—”
“Flynn is repairing the back stoop,” she finished for him. “If you three complete those tasks today then I don’t see what the problem is with Nora and me staying the night.”
He frowned. “The problem is that there could be other hazards we’ve missed.”
“There aren’t any missed hazards.” She raised her hand to stop him from interrupting. “I know this because you three men have been in and out of this house at least fifty times, up and down the stairs, scrambling on and off the roof, mumbling every step of the way.”
“I can’t let you stay in this house until I know it is completely safe.”
She relished his fierce protectiveness for a brief moment. Will was so handsome, staring down at her with that stubborn, worried look in his eyes. Bridget felt a pleasant little ache in her stomach, a bone-deep yearning that she stifled. “You know the house is safe, or at least safe enough for Nora and me to live here with the Coulters.”
He was shaking his head before she finished speaking. “I’m still not satisfied.”
Now he was just being difficult. If she wasn’t so flattered she might be frustrated with this stubborn streak of his. “Like I said, you, Flynn and Cam have investigated every square inch of this place, ten times over.”
“Nevertheless…”
“Would it make you feel any better if I agreed to sleep down here on the first floor tonight?”
“No.”
No? No? “If you don’t want me living here, then what do you suggest?”
“I suggest—” he flashed her one of his bone-melting smiles that made her knees go weak “—you move into my house.”
Chapter Sixteen
Bridget felt something akin to pins and needles running down her spine. Will wanted her to move into his home, as though she were a part of his family. A flush of warmth rose inside her, the sensation strengthening and thickening until she couldn’t take a decent breath.
She tamped down her reaction and spoke with great calm. “I simply don’t know what to say to such an offer.”
“Say yes.”
A sigh worked its way up her throat. “Absolutely not.” But what a lovely, impossible request, one she had to squash at once, before she gave in. “My moving into your home, no matter the reason, would only confuse the twins.”
He fell silent. His thoughtful scowl made her wonder if he even realized what he’d just asked of her. No, the request wasn’t scandalous. Not when she considered the fact that his mother and children lived under the same roof as him. Bridget would simply be a live-in nanny, an employee and nothing more.
Except…
It would be much more for her. Somewhere in the past week she’d grown to care for this man, as much as she cared for his children and his mother. William Black mattered to her, in a way she didn’t want to analyze too closely, not until she was alone. One thing she knew for certain, to capitulate to his request now, no matter how sound his reasoning might be, would be far too dangerous for her heart.
“You’re right,” he said at last, speaking over her heartbeat drumming in her ears. “I can’t risk the children’s welfare like that. I will take you back to the boardinghouse.”
Oh, no. No, no, no. “You most certainly will not.”
“Bridget—”
“Rose rented out our room already. Nora and I must stay here tonight.” She softened her voice. “There is no other answer.”
His hand slipped up her arm, past her shoulder, stilled just shy of touching the back of her neck. “I don’t want you in danger, not for a moment.”
He dropped his hand.
Even without his touch, Bridget felt enveloped by warmth and noted with some surprise that she was finding it hard to form words in her mind. She brushed shaky hands down her skirt. Why had the Lord brought this man into her life, when there seemed to be so many obstacles standing between them? “I appreciate that you are worried, Will, I do. But I will be quite fine here with Nora and the Coulters.”
“I cannot persuade you otherwise?”
“No.”
His lips flattened. “You are a stubborn woman, Bridget Murphy.”
She felt a twinge of tenderness for him. “So I’ve been told.”
“You realize—” he took her hand and then braided their fingers loosely together “—that you have already turned down three of my requests in our short acquaintance.”
“Yes, I have.” She fought desperately to keep from touching him in return, from reaching up with her free hand and smoothing away his frown. “But never for a frivolous reason.”
That earned her a smile. “No, never for a frivolous reason.” His gaze turned serious, alarmingly so. “One day, Bridget Murphy, you will say yes to me.”
She had no doubt of that. She only prayed that when she did it was to the right question.
“If you are determined to stay in this house tonight I had better continue working on the stairs.” He ran his thumb over her knuckles before releasing her hand. “Twilight is fast approaching.”
Without another word he strode around the corner and mounted the steps.
Bridget blinked after him, wondering what had just happened. There had been hidden meaning in their words, a promise to one another that had been silently understood, on a soul-deep level. She was still staring after him when she heard someone approach from behind. The light, airy footsteps warned her that the newcomer was her younger sister Maeve.
“He likes you,” she said, her voice full of satisfaction and perhaps a small amount of amusement.
Bridget swung around to glare at her sister. Maeve was never one to judge, but still, to know that her sister had been eavesdropping on her and Will unsettled Bridget. “You were spying on us?”
“I couldn’t hear anything, not with all that hammering coming from the roof.” Maeve looked at the ceiling as if to make her point more succinctly. “And I averted my eyes once I realized you were having…a moment.”
“Is that so?”
“I am a model of discretion.” She waved her hand in a graceful arc. “I saw nothing out of the ordinary here.”
There was an unfamiliar ball of something in Bridget’s stomach, something that felt similar to panic. What if her sisters didn’t like Will? Nora seemed to disapprove of him—did Maeve agree? And what if he didn’t like them?
“Maeve,” she began, considering her words care
fully. She didn’t want to alarm her sister, but she needed to know. “What do you think of Will?”
“What I think, is that we should have this conversation somewhere private.” Maeve hooked her arm through Bridget’s and steered her outside toward the overgrown garden. Bridget felt herself relax.
They made their way toward the tree indicating the entrance to Colleen’s garden. The path was overrun with weeds, but it was clear this had once been a lovely spot.
There was a rickety old bench in the middle of the garden. Weeds were growing up its legs, tangling into a knot of twisted branches. The wood looked full of splinters and far too wobbly to support either of them.
Apparently Maeve agreed because she paced to the large oak tree and leaned against its massive trunk. “Now where were we?”
“You were about to tell me what you think of Will.”
“Ah, yes.” She tapped a finger to her chin. “But you must realize, my opinion isn’t the one that matters. What do you think of the man?”
Bridget swallowed back her first response. She’d been about to give Maeve a superficial answer, something trite. But playing coy was an exercise in futility. Maeve knew her too well and would see through any attempt on Bridget’s part to evade the truth.
“I think,” she said, firming her shoulders and lifting her chin a fraction higher, “that William Black is the best man I have ever met.”
“You are in love with him.”
Was she? Was it too soon to tell? Or entirely too late? “I… No… Maybe.” Probably.
“But, Bridget, from what I understand he is only looking for a woman to be the mother of his children, nothing more.”
Maeve was certainly well-informed. Nora must have filled her in during her first visit to Faith Glen, when Bridget had stayed late at Will’s to read bedtime stories to the children. When she’d put his family and their needs above her own.
In a matter of days the Black family had become a part of her heart. The children. Esther. Even Will. Especially Will.
She might very well be in love with him.
“Oh, Maeve.” She tried to smile, but emotion drenched her throat. “What does it matter whether I’m in love with the man or not? He’s made it clear he only wants a marriage of convenience, one in name only, and I will settle for nothing less than an earth-shattering love.”
“Oh, dear.”
Indeed.
* * *
The sun had dipped dangerously low toward the horizon before Will felt comfortable enough to deem the house fit for Bridget, her sister and baby Grace to stay the night. Surveying his handiwork, he set down the hammer, rose and proceeded to test each stair one at a time.
Once he was satisfied, he went in search of Bridget. He heard the Coulters speaking with someone in the kitchen, but couldn’t make out their words. The cooing noises indicated the baby was back there, as well. Will looked in and saw the older couple smiling over the child, playing with her tiny feet and hands.
Bridget was not with them.
Before either of the Coulters noticed him, he moved back into the hallway, ran his hand along the paint-chipped wall. They would have to address the decor eventually, but for now they had to focus on the basic structure before winter set in.
Will hadn’t wanted to let Bridget win their argument this afternoon, hadn’t wanted her to stay here until the house was completely put to rights. But she’d convinced him with the one point he’d been unable to deny. He couldn’t move her into his home and risk confusing his children.
His entire family adored her. She had charmed him as well, somehow slipping below his defenses against his best efforts to remain guarded. She was fast sliding her way into his heart.
A hot ball of unease spun in his gut. Will didn’t want to lose Bridget. And not just for his children’s sake, but for his own, as well.
He longed for her, actually yearned to—
A twinge of unease had him slowing his steps. He’d made a promise to Bridget Collins months ago, and had planned to marry her without the benefit of meeting her. He’d nearly forgotten all about her. Shouldn’t he be mourning the woman, at least a while longer? Yet a little over a week after discovering the terrible details of her death Will was falling for Bridget Murphy.
Lord, what does that say about me?
“Will?”
He reared back, his heart slamming in his chest. “Bridget,” he said on a spurt of air, bracing his stance so he didn’t run into her. “I didn’t see you standing there.”
“I only just arrived.” She hovered in the doorway, her hazel eyes a vivid green mixed with golden brown. Her lips curved into a smile. “You were deep in thought.”
“Got a lot on my mind.” He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “I was thinking about…the mill.”
She gave him a dubious look but didn’t question him. “The others are ready to leave. I’ve arranged to have Flynn stop at your house to check on your mother before he and Maeve return to Boston.” She moved closer. “But only if that’s agreeable to you.”
Will gazed at her a moment, mesmerized. He suddenly understood why men wrote poetry. “You asked your brother-in-law to examine my mother?”
“He is a very good doctor, I assure you.” She lowered her chin, breaking eye contact. “Although I believe Esther is feeling much better I thought it couldn’t hurt to collect an expert opinion on the matter.”
Staring at her bent head, Will experienced a sudden wave of tenderness followed by a strong desire to pull her into his arms and hold her close. In the next breath he gave in to the temptation and drew her against him, resting his cheek against her soft hair.
She relaxed in his embrace and all he could think was how good she felt, soft yet solid, yielding yet strong.
“Thank you, Bridget.” His throat grew tighter, clogging with some unnamed emotion until he had to force the rest of the words past his stiff lips. “Thank you for caring about my mother.”
“I care about all of you.” She splayed her fingers against his chest and rested her cheek on his shoulder. “So very much.”
There was a wistful note in her voice and his arms tightened around her. “I know.”
Of its own accord, one of his fingers twined in her hair, the silky locks smooth against his skin. He went motionless, all but his hand. His heart pounded in his chest.
“Bridget?” A deep, masculine voice called from the back of the house. “Are you in here?”
Reluctantly, slowly, Will disentangled his hand from her hair and set her away from him. He took a second step to provide a safe enough distance to keep from pulling her back to him again.
Bridget blinked up at him, her eyes slightly glazed. Then she sighed deep in her throat. Will liked that rich, throaty sound. He liked it a lot.
“Bridget?”
Still looking somewhat bemused, she glanced over her shoulder and called out, “I’m in the hallway with Will.” She sounded short of breath.
Will suffered a similar affliction.
Several loud, purposeful footsteps later and Flynn Gallagher entered the tiny space. Eyes narrowed, he looked from Will to Bridget then back again.
“Maeve and I are ready to depart.” He spoke in a tone full of silent warning Will had no problem interpreting. “I’ll need you to lead the way to your house.”
“Certainly.” He held the other man’s stare without flinching. “I’ll meet you outside in a moment.”
Flynn looked ready to argue, but then shook his head and left without another word.
“Well,” Bridget said, “that was a bit awkward.”
Will felt a smile tug at his lips and almost fell in love with her right then. Leave it to Bridget to state the obvious in such a matter-of-fact manner, as though she was speak
ing about nothing more important than the weather.
Despite reminding himself to keep up his guard, he felt something deep in his soul shift, a softening. “Your brother-in-law is rightfully protective of you.”
She laughed. “So it would seem.”
“Come.” He took her hand without thinking, the gesture as natural as breathing. “We should join the others outside, before we give Dr. Gallagher cause to come searching for you again.”
“Heaven forbid.”
They walked hand-in-hand down the corridor, as easy with one another as though they’d been together for years. Like a couple. It was a stunning realization that had Will pulling his grip free of hers before they stepped outside.
Cheeks turning a becoming pink, Bridget rushed ahead of him and took the baby from her younger sister. She positioned the bundle in her arms and turned to face him. “I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”
Glad for the squirming shield between them, he nodded. “Tomorrow.”
He gave Flynn a brief nod, tossed out a few general directions to his home and then headed for his own carriage.
After climbing aboard, he lifted the horse’s reins in his hands and patiently waited for Flynn to do the same. He let go of the reins after several moments passed, realizing he wasn’t going anywhere just yet. Bridget and her younger sister were in the midst of a lengthy goodbye.
Her older sister was off to his right, under a large shade tree, poking her finger into Cam’s chest. The woman did not look happy. In fact, as Will leaned forward for a better look, he realized her face was scrunched into a frown.
Cam, seemingly unaffected by the woman’s obvious frustration, suddenly threw his head back and let out a belly laugh. Whereby Nora swung around and stomped off, her hands balled into two tight fists. Cam immediately stopped laughing and gaped after her retreating back in utter astonishment.
Good old Cam, Will thought with a shake of his head, charming the ladies like always. Clearly, the sheriff of Faith Glen needed a few lessons on how to talk to women. Not that Will was the one to school him on the subject. He wasn’t much better, as evidenced by his inability to talk Bridget into leaving this ramshackle house tonight.
