Last of the O'Rourkes

by Kate Douglas

  “But...”

  “Goodbye, Mr. O’Rourke, and thank you for your kind hospitality.” She brushed her hands together as if to wipe away crumbs. He felt as if she brushed him away as well.

  “I’ll be leaving shortly. I won’t be coming back.”

  It took a conscious effort for him to shut his mouth as she turned and stormed out of the room.

  HE HATED BROODING. RILEY’D made fun of it. His grandmother had lamented over it. But hell, he was good at it. Seamus toyed with his cereal, staring aimlessly at the soggy flakes of bran something-or-other that were supposed to start his day off right.

  Well, damn it, it was a little late for that.

  He wished, for the hundredth time, his grandmother were still alive. She’d understood him, his deep love/hate relationship with his brother. She’d felt much the same about Riley herself.

  She’d know what to say now, to help him find control. But Gran was gone and Kathleen Malone was upstairs dressing in that little black suit she’d worn to his brother’s funeral, strapping that deadly looking gun into the harness under her arm, preparing to walk out of his life forever.

  Taking Riley’s baby with her. He closed his eyes, dreading the thought of her choice. How far along was her pregnancy? It was impossible to tell, but she looked so slim, so decidedly non-pregnant, she couldn’t be too far along. What if she took the easy way out? Riley was dead. She had a job that certainly didn’t sound as if it catered to motherhood. How could he convince her to continue her pregnancy and carry the child to term?

  Carry to term, give birth...then turn the baby over to him?

  Impossible.

  He watched as another cereal flake disappeared beneath the milk.

  Maybe not. The idea had merit. She couldn’t possibly want a child, not a woman like her. It shouldn’t be all that difficult. Money wasn’t a problem. He had a good lawyer who could handle the legalities. Seamus and Ms. Malone wouldn’t need to ever see each other again, not if it were handled properly.

  He looked up from the bowl of soggy cereal and stared at the empty doorway. She’d stormed from the room almost ten minutes ago. He still felt her presence.

  “O’Rourke!”

  Kat’s scream galvanized him. Swearing under his breath, Seamus raced out of the kitchen and up the stairs. He paused long enough to grab the only weapon he could think of, his grandmother’s brass-tipped cane.

  The stalker, somehow, had found Kathleen.

  Her door was closed, but he forced it open without even trying the handle. He raced into the room with the cane raised.

  She huddled on the carpet next to the bathroom door, her face as pale as the white shirt she still wore, holding a towel tightly between her legs.

  A towel covered in blood.

  “Seamus,” she cried. “Help me. I don’t want to lose the baby.”

  The baby!

  He picked her up off the floor and, holding her close to his chest like a child, sat in the big rocker next to the bed. She trembled. Was she in pain? Was it fear?

  Fear of losing the baby .

  She’d already chosen to keep it.

  A deep sense of relief sharpened by unrelenting terror energized him. Seamus grabbed the phone and dialed 911, gave the dispatcher the necessary information and waited.

  Kathleen clung to him, pale, vulnerable, so unlike the harridan who’d stormed out of his kitchen moments before.

  Had their argument caused this? “You’ll be fine.” He stroked one finger along the line of her jaw, silently saying the prayers of his childhood, projecting the calm demeanor he’d practiced over the years. There was no need for her to know he trembled as much as she; no reason to frighten her with his own fears.

  “Seamus.” Her voice was nothing more than a whisper. “I’m so sorry. I don’t want you to think I ever considered...would ever...” Her body stiffened. She grimaced, a low moan of pain ending in a sob.

  “Shhh...it’s okay.” He brushed the damp hair back from her eyes, prayed for an end to her pain. He’d never felt so helpless. “You’ll be fine. The baby will be fine. We’ll work everything out when you’re better. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose my temper. I want to take care of you, Kathleen. You and the baby.”

  She thought about that, about turning all her worries and fears over to this stranger who wasn’t really a stranger at all. His face was already familiar, his voice was deep, soft, and so reassuring. As much as he angered her, she somehow knew she could trust him, and could count on Seamus O’Rourke to keep her safe.

  He would watch over her...over their baby. Thinking that, believing him, she allowed herself to fade into oblivion.

  SEAMUS FOLLOWED KATHLEEN’S AMBULANCE through the foggy morning streets of San Francisco, staying as close behind as traffic lights and traffic would allow.

  Then he followed her into the hospital.

  Seamus hated hospitals, the smell, the impersonal bustle of too many people intent on their business, the sounds of others hurting, the tears of those whose loved ones were beyond pain.

  Usually, he loved efficiency. Now, it merely proved a barrier between him and Kathleen. He handled the paperwork without thinking, paced until his legs were numb, sat and willed Kathleen and the baby well.

  Coffee cups stacked up on the small table beside him. Janitors came and cleared them away. A candy striper offered him a bagel and a smile. He could only summon a blank stare in reply.

  Time passed. He knew it must be passing, but the minutes blended into hours and the hours meshed, one into the other, so when the doctor finally tapped him on the shoulder he could only gape at the woman and resent the interruption to his brooding.

  “Mr. O’Rourke?”

  He nodded, afraid to ask.

  “I’m Dr. Jeffries...your wife’s physician. I want you to know she’ll be fine.”

  Wife? He didn’t correct her because he didn’t see the need. Kathleen was all right. “The baby?” He looked into the doctor’s sad brown eyes that had seen much more pain than a young woman should bear.

  “She hasn’t lost the baby, at least not yet. There’s still a risk. She’s just over five months along. Survivability for the fetus at this point...well, we want to keep her overnight, keep her on an IV until the pregnancy is stabilized. If she doesn’t abort within the next twenty-four hours, I think she’ll be fine. She’ll have to limit her activities over the next few months. No lifting, no bending—” She paused, as if measuring Seamus’s temperament. “—no sexual activity.”

  He nodded, sighed, smiled at the doctor. “That won’t be a problem.” It was difficult to ignore the irony of the situation. “May I see her?”

  “Of course. Follow me.”

  Kathleen’s normally fair complexion was the shade of alabaster, the dark blue shadows under her eyes the only hint of color. Seamus paused in the doorway, alternately hating and loving his brother that he, Seamus, should be standing here now, worrying himself sick over a woman he hardly knew; worrying about a child that wasn’t his, a child he wanted more than he’d ever wanted anything, ever.

  A child with a very fragile hold on life.

  Kathleen sensed him close by, slowly turned her head and looked his way. For a moment, Riley stood there watching her, a look of infinite sadness in his eyes. Then he smiled and walked into the room and it was Seamus standing by the side of the bed, awkwardly patting her hand, telling her how glad he was that she was going to be all right.

  “I could still lose the baby.” She wondered why her lips felt so stiff, why the words were so difficult to say. It would solve so many problems, she thought, if the unthinkable happened. She could walk away, go on with her life, and pretend none of this had ever taken place.

  Pretend little “whatsit” hadn’t existed in any form, ever.

  She felt a deep sense of sadness, a feeling of incomparable loss at what might never be. Hot tears scalded the corners of her eyes. She wanted to brush them away, but lacked the energy.

  “You won’
t.” The strength behind his words made it true. He lightly touched her face, wiped the errant tears away with his thumb, then once again covered her hand with his.

  “I...” God it was hard to apologize, to retract all those things she’d said in anger.

  He didn’t give her the chance. No, he was moving right ahead, a veritable bulldozer where her intentions were involved. “This time there’s no discussion. You’ll stay with me. The doctor said you can’t be alone. You’ll need bed rest until you’re completely stabilized, then you’re to take it easy over the next few weeks if you want to prevent a miscarriage. Since I work at home, I can be there for you. I have the extra room and my housekeeper will be thrilled to have someone to coddle.”

  He glared at her and for a moment she thought she saw a flash of humor in those green eyes of his, but it was quickly shielded. “So don’t even try to argue, Ms. Malone. Not this time, because it just won’t work.”

  “At least I know I’ll eat well.” She unobtrusively pulled her hand out from under his. She’d learned a long time ago it was important to pick your battles. She didn’t have the energy to fight this one right now. “I would assume a food critic only allows the best?”

  “Exactly.” He smiled briefly, looked down at his suddenly empty hand and shoved it in his pocket. He cleared his throat and stepped back from the bed. Kathleen almost smiled at his uncharacteristically awkward movements, as if he didn’t know where to look, what to say.

  “They keep calling me Mrs. O’Rourke.” She studied his face, watching for his reaction.

  He flushed, cleared his throat again and looked just over her shoulder. She wondered what was so interesting about a blank green wall.

  “It made it easier to get in to see you to find out about your condition. If you’re not related, hospital policy is...they don’t...” He was obviously avoiding eye contact. “I’ll correct it right away.”

  “It’s not important,” she said, wondering why that was so. Usually her identity was her mainstay, the thing that gave her control. Now, the only important factor was this fragile life inside her. Or maybe not so fragile, the way it was hanging on, fighting to survive.

  “Is there anything you need?” he asked, still not meeting her eyes. “A clean gown, toothbrush, comb...?” His voice trailed off.

  “I don’t own a nightgown.” She wasn’t sure why she even said such a thing, even if it was true. “At home I sleep in the nude. Here I get this dandy little thing with a slit up the back.” She smiled when he blushed. Why had he seemed so threatening earlier this morning? One thing for certain, he was definitely nothing like Riley, something she suddenly found terribly appealing.

  She glanced at the little plastic bowl of personal items the nurse had left. “Maybe a comb or hairbrush? Everything else seems to be provided.”

  “I’ll take care of it.” The look of relief on his face said a lot more than he probably realized. Kathleen was still grinning when he turned and quickly walked out of the room.

  HE CALLED MRS. ANDREWS and explained they’d have a guest for the next couple of weeks, hopefully longer. When he told the housekeeper it was a female guest who would need extra care because of a difficult pregnancy, he could almost hear the old gal’s wheels turning.

  He’d let Kathleen answer any questions. Knowing Hazel Andrews, there’d be plenty.

  Seamus wasn’t certain, at this point, what to tell people.

  His agent was going to have a field day. Frank made no secret of the fact he thought Seamus was gay. Seamus had never seen any great need to correct him. It certainly kept his philandering agent from constantly trying to set him up with one woman or another of questionable reputation.

  The lack of women in his life, his interest in food and the arts, his impeccable style of dress and non-existent social life had been proof enough for Frank to make all kinds of assumptions about his client.

  Having a beautiful woman...a beautiful, pregnant woman...living in his home was going to really throw the little guy for a loop!

  Seamus chuckled aloud. He almost looked forward to his next conversation with Frank.

  He knew he was an oddity in this day and age, but that didn’t usually bother him. Today, though, as he walked down the long green hallway to the hospital gift shop, he wondered what his friends...and his agent...would think of his basically celibate life.

  He’d never been in love, other than the occasional young man’s crush. As an adult, his affairs had been few and far between, always discreet, and never—not ever—emotional. He’d never felt the rush of passion he read about. Had never known a desire so deep as to bring him back for a second night with any of his infrequent partners.

  He’d never understood the power of love between man and woman.

  He wasn’t certain why it hadn’t happened, though he honestly suspected his own behavior was a backlash to Riley’s. Even his youthful decision to become a priest had followed one of Riley’s more outrageous escapades.

  Thank goodness Gran had convinced him you didn’t become a priest because you’re embarrassed by your brother’s behavior, no matter how awful the transgression.

  No, his fairly celibate lifestyle hadn’t been the result of his religious beliefs. He guessed he’d just never met anyone interesting enough, or challenging enough.

  Then there’d been the issue of children...or lack of them. He’d never gotten to know any woman well enough to explain, never cared enough for it to be a concern.

  Besides, he’d had so many other things to worry about over the years.

  There’d been Gran and her long illness after years of raising her twin grandsons. Of course, there’d always been Riley and the worrying and wondering over exactly what kind of scrape his irresponsible twin was going to get into next. They’d all been shocked when he ended up in law enforcement, but it was probably the only thing, other than Seamus, that had kept him out of jail.

  Well, Riley’d definitely gotten himself into a scrape of monumental proportions this time. Once again Seamus was putting his life on hold to bail him out. Taking a woman under his wing who not only didn’t appreciate his help one iota, but who seemed bound and determined to fight him and insult him every step of the way.

  This was definitely going to be a difficult pregnancy...for both of them.

  Muttering to himself, Seamus stared at the array of hairbrushes and combs in the tiny gift shop and wondered what sort of bristles worked best on hair the texture of silk.

  Chapter Three

  RIGHT ON SCHEDULE. HE glanced down at the gold Rolex encircling his wrist. It hadn’t been easy getting that twit of a housekeeper to start talking, but once he’d gained her confidence, she’d been impossible to shut up. Irritating old biddy. Nothing he hated more than interfering women, but she’d been full of surprises and more than willing to talk to the nice young man surveying the neighborhood for a magazine article on San Francisco’s Victorian mansions.

  Once he’d steered the conversation to more personal matters, the bitch had really dropped a whammy. Mr. O’Rourke was bringing home a houseguest ... and she was pregnant! The gods were definitely smiling on him today.

  He smiled in return. This added an entirely new dimension to his plans. He could afford to wait.

  Wait and anticipate the pleasure.

  “GOODNESS. THIS PLACE IS huge.” Kathleen stared through the windshield at an ornately carved stone entry leading to a massive but beautifully restored Victorian mansion. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice this before...or the neighborhood. Not just the Sunset district, but the outer Sunset... Wow! I’m impressed.”

  She kept her words light and teasing, but the memory of her first trip to Seamus’s house filtered into Kat’s thoughts. Of course she hadn’t noticed the house. She’d been consumed with anger, frightened and fed up with her stalker’s latest attack, and completely frustrated by Seamus O’Rourke and his overbearing attitude.

  Frustrated and confused, and trying so hard not to mourn a man she’d loved
. A man who had lied to her, who’d had the audacity to die in a stupid car accident. How could she ever forget Riley and get on with her life, if she was faced with his brother on a daily basis?

  She couldn’t possibly stay here for the rest of her pregnancy. The three-and-a-half months remaining stretched out ahead like an entire lifetime.

  “I drove directly into the garage last time.” Seamus glanced at her, as if weighing her mood. “After what had just happened to your home, I figured it wasn’t a good time to show off mine.”

  Kat returned his clear-eyed gaze and decided, if he’d really been trying to protect her feelings, he wasn’t so bad after all. “Thank you, I guess.” She shouldn’t think about her ruined little house. Somehow she’d forget about Riley.

  Save what you can and move on. That she could do. She’d been doing it most of her life. Shaking off the memories, Kat teased him. “Well, it’s really beautiful. Guess food critics make better money than I realized.”

  “We eat pretty well, too.”

  His eyes were twinkling and she suddenly realized it was the closest thing to a joke she’d heard from him. She grinned in reply. It was a start, after all.

  Of what, she wasn’t certain.

  He got out of the car, came around to her side and was suddenly leaning into her open door to pluck her from the seat.

  “I can walk,” she insisted, batting his hands away, but he just cocked one very dark eyebrow, unfastened her seatbelt and lifted her out as if she weighed nothing at all.

  His arms felt rock-hard under the soft fabric of his suit, his grip secure and warm. It was easier than it should have been to just give up and wrap her arms around his neck. Just as it was absolutely impossible to ignore the way his scent tickled her senses. What was it about this man? He wasn’t anything like Riley, but then her reaction to Riley hadn’t been the same, either. Never this heart thudding, breath-stopping shot of awareness whenever they touched.