Robin Lee Hatcher (21 page)

The intimacy of the moment — the two of them, man and woman, alone in this parlor in the dark of night — made her breath quicken. When he rose and came toward her, she closed her eyes, concentrating on the thundering of her heart even as she heard the other chair creak as he settled onto it.

“I was thinking about Dru,” he repeated after a lengthy silence. “About what she hoped for the future for everyone she loved.”

Emily had wanted things too. She had wanted this man. She had wanted a future with him. “I told Dru I would stay until June. I’ll keep my promise.” It was too late for a future with Gavin, even if he’d wanted it. She had given her pledge to Patrick.

“Maybe you could come with us when we take the cattle to the summer range. Maybe you could stay longer than June.” He paused. “The girls will miss you if you go away.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t.” She opened her eyes to look at him. “I . . . I’m getting married in June.” She hadn’t meant to tell him this way, but the need to shield herself against the desires of her heart forced the words from her.

“Patrick,” he said softly. “I should have known.”

“He’s been so kind to us these past weeks. And yesterday, when he asked me to marry him, I — ”

Her words of explanation were cut off when he stood and pulled her to her feet. She had no time to protest, no time to try to pull away, before his mouth claimed hers. She had been kissed before. Patrick had kissed her only yesterday. But she’d never been kissed like this, never in a way that made the world spin like a child’s top. All that existed for her was the feel of his arms as he embraced her, the taste of his lips upon hers, and the terrible knowledge that she was no longer free to love him.

As quickly as the kiss began, it ended. Gavin took a step backward. “Patrick has the means to give you everything money can buy.” His voice sounded gruff. “But is that enough, Emily?” He turned and walked away.

She sank onto the chair a second time and wept.

Twenty

Patrick pulled the fur blanket over Emily’s lap. “Ready?”

She nodded.

He glanced behind them at the two girls snuggled beneath another lap robe in the back of the sleigh. “Are the lasses ready?”

“Yes,” they cried in unison, both of them wreathed in excited grins.

“Good. Let’s go!” He picked up the reins and smacked them smartly against the rumps of the dappled-gray team. As the sleigh slipped across the yard between house and barn, Patrick waved at Gavin who stood near the barn door.

He was glad Gavin had refused the invitation to join them. There would be other times to be a good friend to the poor man. Today he preferred to think of the happier times that were to come. Today he preferred to be alone with his betrothed.

He glanced to his right, a pleasant warmth spreading through him as he looked at Emily. The cold air had added splashes of pink to her cheekbones and the tip of her nose. Pretty enough for a Cur-rier and Ives lithograph in her fur-lined bonnet and white muff.

It was still hard for him to believe that she’d consented to be his wife. Every time he’d seen her over the past week, he’d wondered if she would tell him that she’d changed her mind. Wonder of wonders, she hadn’t. And today, the first day of the New Year, they were going to announce the news to his family. It had been hard not to tell his brothers before this, but somehow he’d managed to keep his promise to Emily, just as he hoped to keep all his promises to her for the rest of his life.

Patrick wasn’t running with blinders on, of course. He knew he didn’t own the fair maiden’s heart. Not yet. Not fully. But she was fond of him, and that was a good start in his mind. From what he’d seen, married folks who began as good friends seemed happier longer than some who married in a blaze of passion.

Still, the months leading to June stretched impossibly long in his mind. They couldn’t be over too soon for his liking.

Emily stared at Killarney Hall as the sleigh sped toward it. The stone house seemed even more impressive today than on her first visit here. It sprawled against the backdrop of mountains, the exterior a solemn gray against the pristine whiteness of winter.

As if he’d read her thoughts, Patrick said, “Killarney Hall is fashioned after the estate of an old English baron in Ireland. My parents came to America while I was still a lad, but my da never stopped missing the emerald-green valleys or the cool, misty mornings of Ireland.”

“Where are your parents now?”

“Buried, both of them, beneath the aspens.” He pointed up the slope of the foothill. “Three years ago now.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, wondering that she hadn’t known this before they became engaged. They’d spent many hours together, but she’d never asked questions, never tried to know him better than what he offered on his own. She hadn’t been curious enough to ask questions, and the realization shamed her.

I want to care for him. I want to make him a good wife. There are
so many reasons that I should love him.

But her traitorous heart yearned for another even now.

“Emily? Have you heard a word I’ve said?”

She looked at Patrick. “I’m sorry. My mind was wandering.”

“Are you ready to go in?”

She hadn’t noticed the sleigh had stopped. “Yes, I’m ready.” There was no going back now, and that was for the best.

As Patrick, Emily, and the children stepped into the entry hall, a servant — dressed in a black suit, white shirt and collar — appeared to take their wraps. “The family is waiting for you in the salon, sir.”

“Thank you, Crandall. Do you think Cook might be able to find a piece of cake for the lasses?”

Sabrina’s and Petula’s eyes lit up with eagerness.

“I think so, sir. If you’ll follow me, young ladies, I’ll take you to the kitchen.”

“May we, Miss Harris?” Sabrina asked.

Emily nodded. “If you promise to mind your manners. You too, Pet.”

“We will,” they said in unison.

After the girls disappeared into the bowels of the house with the butler, Patrick offered the crook of his arm. “Are you ready?”

She forced a smile onto her lips. “I’m ready.”

All four of the O’Donnell brothers were brawny men, none of them standing under six-foot-two. Each of Patrick’s younger brothers had red hair, although the shades varied slightly, from Patrick’s carrot red to Trevor’s rich auburn. They also had the same open, friendly faces and the same laughing eyes.

It was a bit daunting, walking into their midst. She felt overwhelmed by their size and enthusiasm as they crowded close, paying her outrageous compliments and saying it was about time Patrick brought her back to Killarney Hall.

It was Pearl, Shane’s bride of a little more than six weeks, who relieved some of Emily’s apprehension. “Get back, you big ox.” Pearl pushed Shane on the shoulder, forcing him to take a step back. “Can’t you see she’s about to suffocate?” She took Emily’s arm and pulled her away from the four brothers. “Don’t mind them. They take some getting used to, but they’re a good-hearted lot.”

Emily glanced over her shoulder. Each of Patrick’s brothers wore satisfied grins. She thought they must have guessed the reason for today’s visit.

“You should visit us more often, Miss Harris,” Pearl continued. “Patrick can come for you in the sleigh whenever you’d like.”

“Thank you. I — ”

“Come summer,” Patrick interrupted, “you’ll be able to see Emily whenever you want. She’s going to be living at Killarney Hall . . . as my wife.”

“I knew it!” Jamie shouted.

“Sure if I didn’t see it coming!” Shane slapped his older brother on the back. “Congratulations, Paddy.”

Trevor gripped Patrick by the upper arms and gave him a shake. “We’d given up hope you’d find the courage before you were too old, brother.”

Pearl gave Emily a hug. “I’m so glad, Miss Harris. Now I won’t be the only woman in the family. We’ll be sisters, you and I.”

“Please. Call me Emily.”

The brothers surrounded her before she could say anything more. She received a bear-like hug, followed by a kiss on each cheek, from each of them. Finally, she was claimed once again by Patrick. He led her to a sofa, then sat beside her, his arm around her shoulders. As the brothers and Pearl took nearby seats, he regaled them with stories of his courtship of the lovely Emily Harris, much of it dramatically embellished. The room was filled with laughter as the minutes ticked away on the mantel clock.

Emily felt like a terrible fraud. Since Patrick loved her, the whole clan would love her. That was apparent. But she didn’t deserve their easy and effusive affection. They believed she loved their brother in return, that she would marry him for all the right and proper reasons, that she would make him happy. She wished she did love him. It would make things so much easier. But she was determined to learn to love him. She knew she would in time.

“Sir.” Crandall’s imperious voice broke into her thoughts. “Cook reports that dinner is ready. Shall I inform her you are adjourning to the dining hall?”

“Yes, Crandall. Do so at once.” Patrick turned a solemn look on Emily. “It’s the devil to pay if the O’Donnells aren’t ready when the food is. Cook rules her corner of the house with a vengeance. You’ll meet her later and no doubt win her over with your sweet smile.”

She wasn’t sure whether or not he spoke in jest. “I’ll do my very best.”

Patrick stood and drew her up from the sofa.

“Wait,” she said as the others rose too. “I have a favor to ask of everyone.”

They all looked at her.

“I . . . I haven’t yet told Sabrina and Petula of my engagement. It’s too soon after they lost their mother. Please, let us not mention it within their hearing. I want to wait until the time is right.”

Patrick gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze. “Sure and we understand. We’ll not say a word.”

She gave him a grateful glance. All would be well with them. She knew it would.

Twenty-One

“And this will be our bedroom, once you’re Mrs. O’Donnell.”

Patrick shoved open the door, revealing the chamber with its large four-poster bed, gleaming wood floors, and cherrywood bureaus. Persian rugs were scattered around the room. Upholstered chairs sat in a cozy semi-circle before the fireplace. Heavy draperies framed the large windows.

Emily felt a hard lump form in her belly as she stepped into the room. “It’s beautiful.”

“Not nearly as beautiful as you.” He closed the door behind him.

She knew she would feel his hands on her arms any moment, knew that he would turn her toward him, that he intended to kiss her. There was no avoiding it this time. Except for the day she’d accepted his proposal, she’d managed to forestall anything more than a few pecks on the cheek. She’d kept the children nearby as a safeguard.

But they weren’t with her now.

“Emily.”

It happened just as she’d expected. He turned her to face him, pulled her close into his embrace, and brought his head low to kiss her. He held her tenderly, lovingly. His lips were warm upon hers.

She waited to be stirred. She wanted her world to be knocked askew. She wanted Patrick’s kisses to be as memorable as the kiss she’d shared with Gavin.

Gavin . . . Go away. Leave me be.

She pulled back from Patrick, feeling warmth rise in her cheeks. Kissing one man. Thinking of another. It was wrong, and she was ashamed.

Patrick stared down at her for a few moments, then amusement lit his face. “There’s no need for embarrassment, my love. We’re to be wed.”

“I . . . I’m not — ”

“Aye, I can see I’ll have to move slowly. But you needn’t fear me.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Patrick. Truly I’m not. It’s just that . . .”
It’s just that you’re the wrong man.
“It’s just — ”

“No need to explain. I understand. And I know that you’ll get over your shyness with time. I’m a patient man.”

But he
didn’t
understand.
Couldn’t
understand. And how patient would he have to be if she continued to long for another man in his place?

Joker scratched at the door and whined, then returned to his master’s chair and rested his muzzle on Gavin’s thigh.