She continued on beside him, nauseated by her foolish dreams of belonging here. The truth struck her then, cold and hard.
She didn’t belong anywhere.
***
Patrick stood in the shadows again, watching Tara playing with his son. Devlin followed Tara with avid eyes, his mouth pursed in concentration as he followed the ball in her hands. She waved it about, finally tossing it in his direction. With a little yelp, Devlin caught it. Patrick was stunned. His son caught the ball! He was actually playing with Tara!
“Very good, sweetheart,” Tara beamed, hugging Devlin.
To Patrick’s amazement, the child didn’t pull away from her embrace. Lord, if only Patrick could be as free as his son in that moment. Tara placed a loud kiss on Devlin’s cheek, earning another hug from the boy.
Tara released him and urged him backward. “Throw it again, Devlin!”
Devlin didn’t hesitate, but threw the ball into Tara’s waiting hands. With another whoop of encouragement, Tara hugged him to her breast.
“You like playing ball, don’t you sweetheart?” she asked, her breath ruffling Devlin’s curls. “You play very well.”
The little boy smiled. The expression was fleeting but Patrick would bet his best boots that the boy smiled. His heart gave a lurch. Devlin seemed so bright and clear in that moment. Patrick knew he’d hold the memory of that little grin for the whole of his days.
He watched the girl who had wrought this miracle. His Tara. He admired her, ‘twas true. She’d adapted so easily to this time and place so different from her own, although Brianna’s modern conveniences had to go a long way. She roused loyalty in all the MacDonalds without even trying, too. And now she brought Devlin back into the light and gave him the hope of a real life. Patrick sucked in a breath as his mind recognized what his heart knew. He was in love with Tara!
Tara was good and sweet. And passionate, his mind whispered. She loved his son. And more than once she’d endured Patrick’s clumsy attentions. His body remembered her more than enduring his advances. She’d welcomed him last night in the workshop. If honor, and the memory of his sin, hadn’t intruded, she would truly be his now.
His shoulder gave a twinge. His damn scar. That reminder of his sin. And his punishment. At least Devlin would be free of the Banshee’s legacy.
Tara asked about the boy’s mother last night. He cringed to remember what he’d said in response. His reaction to such a reasonable request was overblown. He’d said more in that outburst than he’d meant to, ’twas true. He could only imagine what Tara thought now.
She knew they were Braunachs. And that didn’t matter to her? He believed she was sincere. In all the time he’d known her she was never anything but. But what would she think if she knew Devlin’s mother was a Banshee?
He set thoughts of the witch aside and watched the two for a little while longer as they played with the dolls he’d made. He noticed one doll sat untouched. The one representing him. Disappointment filled him. Devlin needed his father, Tara insisted. Devlin needed the connection. Could that be true?
He looked at that lonely doll, exiled there on the stone wall. He wouldn’t think about it. He wouldn’t see the obvious comparison between the doll and himself.
“Oh, Devlin!” Tara laughed. “You want me to dance with you?”
Patrick watched as Devlin moved the two dolls representing himself and Tara. With another laugh Tara grabbed Devlin up in her arms. The child made a sound, guttural but there nonetheless. He very nearly laughed.
Patrick watched as Tara twirled his son in widening circles, catching Devlin’s smile and Tara’s answering grin. He loved his son. Devlin was more than a consequence of his madness with the Banshee. He was a part of him. A part of his heart. Tears pricked his eyes and his throat felt tight. He loved Devlin, and Tara too. That didn’t matter. Tara loved Devlin. That was clear. They had each other, at least until he had to take Tara back to her own time.
He longed to give in to the driving need to be with her, to share her passion and her life. He’d thrown away caution and honor to bed the Banshee. He wouldn’t damage Tara’s heart that way.
His gaze fell on the Patrick doll, motionless and alone. He tore himself away from the gardens and went back to the workshop.
***
Tara held Devlin tight, delighting in every happy little sound the boy made. He hugged her about her neck, his lips moving silently. She didn’t know what he tried to say, but he spoke to her heart. With every look and motion he gave himself to her. And she would hold this feeling close forever.
She wouldn’t think about Patrick inevitably taking her back to the future. She wouldn’t think about leaving this dear little boy or this warm and vocal family. And Patrick? Oh, she’d never love another man like she did him.
“Oh, you wore me out!” she giggled, settling on the low wall.
Devlin smiled and plopped down beside her, his two dolls still held close.
“Tara… tired.”
She blinked. “Yes, sweetheart. Tara’s tired. But happy.”
Devlin nodded. He looked off toward the side of the garden, as if searching for something.
“Papa.”
Tara started and turned, finding nothing but shadows beneath the thick trees bracketing the yard. She faced the boy again, a smile on her face.
“Your papa is at the workshop, Devlin.”
Devlin gave a tiny shake of his head. He reached for the Patrick doll, once more fisting his hand before touching it. She watched as he steeled himself. He had a strong spirit. Like his father.
“Do you want to see your papa?”
Devlin slanted her a look, the yearning clear in his eyes. But he said nothing, and didn’t nod or shake his head in answer.
“Your papa will come to see you soon,” she said. “I promise you.”
Devlin let out a breath and kicked his feet, staring at his shoes as they moved back and forth. She suspected he thought of Patrick still, as he’d done with the shoes almost from the start.
“Your papa loves you, Devlin.” Devlin made no answer. “I love you, too.”
He looked up at her, his eyes intent. He pointed to the Patrick doll.
“I don’t understand, sweetheart.”
He took the Tara doll held so lovingly in his arms and placed it beside the Patrick doll. She could only stare, speechless. The child knew. And telling him would ease her mind.
“I love your papa, Devlin,” she whispered.
He nodded, a look of satisfaction on his face. She hugged him to her once more, fighting the tears that stung her eyes.
Chapter 15
“Hi, Tara!” Bryce chirped. “We’re here to see Devlin.”
Tara looked up to find Brianna and her son standing in the doorway. She glanced at Devlin to gauge his reaction to the little boy hopping up and down with excitement. His face showed curiosity and just a little bit of surprise, to her relief. His eyes were round and his mouth an O.
“Come in!” Tara smiled and came to her feet. “We were just playing with Devlin’s blocks.”
Bryce’s face lit up. “Oh, blocks are brilliant!”
With that, Bryce sat himself down right beside Devlin, chattering away as he stacked the blocks in front of his cousin. Tara watched closely for any sign of distress on Devlin’s part, but the child watched Bryce with open interest.
Satisfied, she faced Brianna. “Hello, Brianna.”
“Seamus suggested this, Tara.” Brianna stepped into the room, her hands spread. “I hope it’s all right.”
“It’s a lovely idea.” Tara watched the little boy so much a part of her heart and shrugged. “I admit I’ve been keeping Devlin to myself these past weeks.”
“And keeping to yourself,” Brianna gently pointed out.
Tara gave a nod. “I know. I’m sorry I haven’t been by to visit. I haven’t even gone outside, except for the backyard.”
Brianna took Tara’s wrist and tugged her toward the large bed. “Sit,” s
he said. She settled down beside her. “Tell me what happened.”
Tara eyed the boys and saw they were busy—Bryce playing and talking while Devlin watched him with awed eyes—and took a breath.
“I asked Patrick about Devlin’s mother,” she whispered, leaning toward Brianna. She held up one hand at her friend’s stunned expression. “I know I shouldn’t have, but I had to know why he stays away.” From her? From Devlin? She couldn’t say exactly. But he was as distant as her little apartment in Indianapolis.
“Devlin’s mother isn’t the reason,” Brianna said sharply. She looked worriedly at the boys, who seemed unaffected, then back at Tara. “She doesn’t matter.”
“That’s what Patrick said.” Tara thought for a moment. “Well, not quite in those words.”
Brianna shook her head. “Patrick blames himself, Tara. For everything.”
Tara nodded. “I know. But he’s so important to Devlin’s recovery. I know that as sure as I know anything I learned in grad school.” Tara looked at the little boy she now loved as her own. “He asks for him, you know.”
“No,” Brianna whispered. “That’s brilliant!”
Tara sniffled and gave a little smile. “I know it is. It’s amazing, actually. But I can’t tell him why his father’s not here, Brianna.” She shook her head. “It breaks my heart.”
“Tara,” Brianna whispered, her eyes round. “You love him.”
Tara’s cheeks heated and she fingered the coverlet, her head down. “I do love Devlin. I admit it.”
Brianna clicked her tongue.
“I can see right through you, Tara Connor,” she stated.
Tara looked at her friend, opening her mouth to protest. In the next moment she surrendered the battle. “Oh, all right. I never was a very good liar.”
Brianna grinned. “Another point in your favor, then.”
Tara smiled. “I don’t know what to do about this, Brianna.”
Brianna patted her hand. “You’ve let your instincts guide you this far, Tara.”
“My instincts?”
Brianna laughed softly. “You’re in the year 1814, Tara. In a lovely but backward dell in what I think is possibly the prettiest part of Ireland. And after bugging out at first, your instincts have carried you.”
“Mind-boggling, but true.”
“Your instincts and your knowledge have taken Devlin so far.”
The two women looked at the boys for a moment.
“It’s all I can do,” Tara admitted.
The boys were a study in contrasts, but the differences weren’t as sharp as they had been. Bryce was the sturdier of the two, but Tara was happy to note that Devlin wasn’t the waif he’d been when she’d first come here. Mrs. O’Grady’s good food and the MacDonalds’s attention had indeed brought changes to the little boy. Well, from nearly all the MacDonalds.
Devlin eased closer to Bryce, who offered his cousin one of the blocks. Devlin took it, holding it still for a moment. Then he slowly brought it to the stout stack Bryce had built, setting it on top. Bryce clapped his hands and nodded. Tara saw it in that instant, a smile from Devlin for the boy beside him.
“You like playing with Bryce, Devlin,” Tara said.
Devlin nodded, offering her the most beautiful smile. Tara’s heart jumped in response to this little Braunach’s charm. It was pure and golden, and as bright as his coppery curls. Her eyes pricked with happy tears.
“Oh, Tara,” Brianna said, her voice thick.
“I know,” Tara said, smiling through her tears. “Isn’t he wonderful?”
Brianna gave a firm nod.
“Spoken like a mother,” she said in a low voice.
In that moment Tara wished Devlin was hers. That he had grown inside of her. But some other woman had had that blessing. A woman Patrick still couldn’t let go.
“No.” She swiped away her silly tears and shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not his mother.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, just watching the boys interact.
Bryce grabbed up Devlin’s dolls, excitement on his face. He fingered the green ribbon around the neck of one of the dolls. “Oh, this one’s Uncle Seamus!”
Devlin gave a jerky nod. Bryce lined up the family of dolls in a row.
“This is Uncle Sean,” Bryce said, pointing to the black-haired one. He touched the small, curly-haired one. “This is you, Devlin. And this one is Uncle Patrick.”
Tara watched Devlin as Bryce freely touched the Patrick doll. His little hands were clenched in fists in his lap and his body was held stiffly. That yearning was in his eyes, and Tara knew Brianna saw it too.
“I’ll blister his ears,” Tara heard Brianna promise.
Tara guessed that wasn’t good for Patrick, and probably just what he deserved. But personally, she’d rather kick his ass.
“Tara,” Devlin said, lifting the woman doll in his hands.
Bryce touched it gingerly, as if he knew how important the doll was to Devlin. The boy was as sensitive as his Pixie mother.
“She’s pretty,” Bryce said. “Like Tara.”
“Tara,” Devlin said again. “Papa.”
Bryce handed him the Patrick doll but Devlin pulled away, shaking his head. Bryce placed the doll on the floor and Devlin scooted toward it. Once again he placed the Tara doll beside it. He gave a nod of satisfaction.
“Oh!” Bryce said. He giggled. “Tara and Uncle Patrick!”
Brianna laughed. She crossed her arms and shot Tara a look of triumph.
“Never mind,” Tara said without anger. She got down on the floor with the boys. “Now, what do you boys say to playing in the backyard? In the gardens, maybe?”
Bryce jumped to his feet and Devlin mimicked the motion, though a beat slower.
“Come, loves,” Brianna said, taking Bryce’s hand. “Miss Tara says Devlin is very good at playing ball. Will you show us, Devlin?”
Devlin glanced at Tara, then nodded to Brianna. Tara’s heart filled with pride as he placed his hand in hers and began to tug her toward the door.
“All right, sweetheart,” she laughed. “We’re going, already!”
The four of them went out into the sunny gardens. Tara put her dark thoughts about Patrick out of her mind and indulged in a bit of fantasy as she and Brianna played with their two little boys like any pair of mothers in any time or place.
***
“Brianna says Tara’s growing attached to the boy,” Luke stated.
Patrick looked at his older brother, feigning only mild interest. “It’s natural, I wager.”
“She’s like a mother to him,” Luke went on.
If only that were so, Patrick silently prayed. “Aye.”
Luke busied himself at his workbench, with nothing of real importance that Patrick could see. He braced himself for more of his brother’s meddling.
“Bryce played with Devlin.”
“Nay!” Patrick held himself still. “How was Devlin?”
Luke flashed him a grin. “Devlin took to him, Brianna says. The two played like brothers.”
Patrick ran a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes as he sucked in a breath. “God bless the lass,” he whispered.
Eager to know all of it, he straightened and faced his brother. “Tell me everything.”
Luke arched a brow. “Seems to me you ought to ask the lass.”
Patrick gave an impatient shake of his head. “Nay, Luke. Tara will just… She’s… Ah, she asks things of me that I can’t give her.”
“Like the truth?”
Luke’s words struck him straight in the belly.
“Let it go,” Patrick grumbled.
Luke muttered something more, but Patrick wasn’t about to ask him to clarify it. He forced his attention on the pair of lady’s slippers he’d fashioned for Tara. They were of a soft kid leather the rich color of her hair. Lord, he was going daft.
“’Mornin’, lads!” Sean called as he entered the workshop.
“’Tis about time you joined us
, brother,” Luke teased.
Sean shrugged, his usual grin a bit brighter this morning.
Patrick narrowed his eyes on his younger brother. “What are you grinnin’ about?”
Sean laughed lightly. “Ah, I was just with the lovely Tara.” Sean held up one hand. “Now don’t be gettin’ angry, Patrick. I just sat outside in the gardens with her and the little lad.”
Patrick again felt that stab of jealousy, unwarranted though he knew it was. It was his own choice that Sean could step into the space Patrick had left empty.
“Oh?” he asked.
Sean snorted and turned to Luke. “The lass is amazin’, Luke. Do you know she got Devlin to smile? To really smile?”
“Aye,” Luke returned. “Brianna told me as much.”
“He’s the picture of you, Patrick,” Sean added. He winked in Luke’s direction. “Save for the smile, o’course.”
Luke chuckled. Patrick kept his thoughts to himself as the talk turned to other topics. Devlin smiled? He marveled. Ah, if only he could have seen a bright grin on his son’s face!
Perhaps Tara had the right of it. He polished the supple shoe until he could nearly see his reflection. Perhaps he should come and spend time with the boy.
Fear nagged at him. Fear that his presence would set Devlin back on the path he’d been on when he found him. Withdrawn and sad. Wild and lonely. ‘Twas Tara’s goodness that wrought this miracle. Her love that brought a precious smile to his face.
“…all comin’ for dinner, then,” he heard Sean say.
“What’s that?” Patrick asked.
“We’re all dinin’ at Uncle’s this Sunday after church,” Luke explained. “You remember church, don’t you, Patrick?”
“Aye,” he said without anger.
He hadn’t attended mass but for holidays since the mad time of his sin four years ago. And each time he missed church, each and every Sunday, the guilt had gnawed at him. And now that he had Devlin he stayed away to cease the whispers and stares. H wouldn’t expose his son to the slights against the innocent boy the heartless villagers would make.
He knew Tara didn’t take Devin to church. He had that from Sean. He wasn’t surprised. She’d never leave Devlin open to the vile wagging tongues of the dell. He’d have to ask her if she prayed with him. If she sang the hymns to him. With her lovely voice, it would be a treat to be sure and sweeter than a choir of angels.
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