Книга - Rescued: Mother-To-Be

Rescued: Mother-To-Be
Trish Wylie


Feeling her baby's first kick was supposed to be a joyous moment for Colleen McKenna. When life dealt her the hardest blow, Colleen knew that she would have to summon up all her courage to cope with her pregnancy alone.Now gorgeous millionaire Eamonn's kindness is testing her fierce independence. And having Eamonn Murphy's hand on her bump, feeling each tiny kick with her, makes every moment more special than the last….









Rescued: Mother-To-Be

Trish Wylie







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For Donna, Mary and Natasha,

who gave me enough information on pregnancy

to scare any sane single gal silly!




Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen




Chapter One


‘WELCOME home, Eamonn.’

Colleen McKenna pinned a smile on her face and tilted her head back to look up at him where he stood, leaning against the doorway of the yard office. She had managed to keep her voice calm—even thought she’d come across as welcoming. Which was the least he deserved, on his first visit home after so long.

He hadn’t changed a bit, had he? Still disgustingly good-looking, still able to dominate by sheer presence as much as size. And still, after fifteen years, capable of making her mouth go dry and butterflies flutter their wings erratically in her stomach. It really wasn’t fair.

Surely a thirty-year-old woman should have long since been over the unrequited love she’d felt as a fifteen-year-old? Shouldn’t she?

She felt a sudden ridiculous urge to raise her hand to her hair, to straighten it, tuck a loose strand behind one ear. As if those simple actions would somehow make her look less dishevelled than she felt. But it wasn’t as if Eamonn Murphy had ever cared how she looked before, was it?

And it wasn’t as if she could hope to measure up to the breathtaking sight of him. Not while he was dressed in spotless walking boots, dark, low-slung jeans, and a thick chocolate-coloured sweater that hinted at the breadth of him as much as it hid.

He was glorious.

While Colleen knew she probably resembled a used teabag as much as she felt like one.

Hazel eyes, framed with thick dark lashes, pinned hers across the room, taking a brief moment to make an inventory of her face before a flicker of recognition arrived,

‘Colleen McKenna.’A small smile lifted the edges of his sensually curved mouth. ‘Well, you grew up, didn’t you?’

‘That happens, y’know. I could say the same thing about you.’ She leaned back a little in the ancient office chair, the bulk of her body still obscured by the ridiculously large desk, and allowed her eyes to stray over his face. She swallowed to dampen her mouth. Oh-boy-oh-boy.

Had he got better-looking as he’d got older? She searched her memory to see if his hair had curled that way before, in an uncontrolled mass of dark curls that framed his face and touched his collar. Curls that invited fingers to thread through them, that looked as if that was exactly how they’d got that way in the first place. Yes. She remembered that. It had been a little of that irresistibly sensual edge which had been such a big part of him, and of his attraction.

She continued her mental checklist of his attributes, comparing old memories to the reality. Had he been as tall? Oh, yes, that she remembered. He’d always stood head and shoulders above every other boy she’d known, before and after he’d left. But the lean edge to him was gone, replaced by wide shoulders and a broad chest that made him seem even larger than she remembered.

It wasn’t fair that he’d aged so well. But some people really did get better with age. Like good wine was supposed to. Not that there was enough in Colleen’s weekly budget to cover the screw-top variety, never mind the kind that deserved being swirled around in a glass and savoured before drinking. Not that she was allowed alcohol presently. Not that she couldn’t have used large quantities of it for self-medication these last few months.

Maybe just as well. If she’d started drinking to cover her problems she might not have stopped.

Eamonn dragged his eyes from her face and looked around the office, his eyes taking in the usual disorganised chaos. And inwardly Colleen squirmed.

It was stupid of her. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known he would appear some time soon. But she maybe could have cleared up, filed things away, thrown a cloth over a surface or two. But all it really would have been was window dressing.

It wouldn’t have helped to hide the awful truths she would have to tell him now that he was here.

But the least she could do was let him settle in first. There wasn’t much point panicking about what had to come after that.

To hell with it.

When it came to the office he had to remember that paperwork was usually bottom of the chain around the place. He couldn’t have forgotten everything?

It was plainly obvious she hadn’t.

She cleared her throat and focused on less mundane matters. ‘I’m sorry we couldn’t hold off the funeral for you coming home. I really am, Eamonn. I know you’d have wanted to be here…’

Her voice died off into the silence and was eventually answered with a shrug of broad shoulders and in a husky deep voice. ‘It’s no one’s fault, Colleen. You couldn’t have got word to me where I was even if you’d known where to look. They didn’t have phones there.’

Even with his easy dismissal she felt guilty. But what else could she say? She remembered only too well how people had struggled to say the right thing to her when her parents had died. It had been almost as awkward waiting for them to find what they considered to be the ‘right words’as it had been for them to find them. And so many times she had wished they would just drop it, say what they had to in a card, or with a squeeze of her arm or even a hug.

But somehow she definitely didn’t see herself offering a hug. An arm-squeeze was a possibility, maybe.

In the meantime, she picked up the conversation from what he’d said last. ‘Another great adventure?’

‘Something like that.’

She nodded. He was still a great talker, then. It was like getting blood from the proverbial—always had been. Just another thing that hadn’t changed that much.

As a teenager he’d been dark and brooding ninety per cent of the time, and that had fulfilled all of Colleen’s romantic notions. In her adolescent mind she had been going to be the one to tame him, to tease out his smile and put a spark in his eyes. She had even been encouraged by how he’d been in her company—how he had laughed, teased her, ruffled her hair. If he’d just once opened his eyes and noticed her the way she’d dreamed he would…

But she’d been a child and he’d been a mature eighteen-year-old, ready to leave the small hamlet they lived in to take on the world. And he’d left her behind.

Now, as he walked around the office, lifting breeding books and feed invoices and flicking them over, she knew she’d lived several lifetimes since then. She wasn’t some doe-eyed teenager any more—wasn’t a romantic dreamer. A kick or two in the teeth had that effect on a person over time.

He stopped and turned around, leaning back on one of the counters that were attached to three of the four walls and crossing his feet at the ankles before he folded his arms across his broad chest. ‘I have to say I’m a bit surprised. The old place looks like hell. I take it Dad wasn’t up to much the last few years?’

The American twang to his accent distracted her momentarily from his actual words. But when she caught them she automatically straightened her spine in her chair, words in defence of his father immediately jumping out of her mouth. ‘Blaming it on Declan is hardly fair. He wasn’t exactly fit for a lot of the heavy stuff after the second heart attack. You wouldn’t even wonder about that if you’d seen him the way he was.’

Eamonn stared at her for a long moment, his gaze steady and impassive. ‘This place was his pride and joy. It would have had to be something major to keep him from tending to it.’

‘I’d say a couple of heart attacks was major, wouldn’t you?’

There was a minute narrowing of his eyes. Then he blinked thick dark lashes at her. And said nothing.

Colleen suddenly felt like a bug under a microscope. It wasn’t as if she had any right to criticise. All he had done was make an observation. But then, she knew inside that her defensiveness was less to do with Declan and more to do with her own part in the property’s run-down appearance.

She pressed her lips together and released them with a small popping noise before taking a breath. ‘Are you planning on staying long?’

‘Depends.’

‘Well, you’ll be staying the night at least?’

‘At least.’

Her blue eyes studied his impassive face for a few long seconds, and then she leaned forward again and smiled more genuinely. ‘You were always hard work conversation-wise. I should have remembered that.’

One dark brow quirked at her candid statement, the corners of his sensual mouth twitching momentarily to hint at a single dimple on one cheek. ‘Cut to the chase, don’t you?’

‘Well, I could play some kind of verbal game of chess with you, but I doubt I’d win. Life’s too short for that sort of hard work, and I’m not really that smart. I like to try and believe people still mean what they say when they say it. Even when I still get reminded that’s not always true. A girl can live in hope.’

‘An optimist?’

She had to be. If she wasn’t optimistic then there wouldn’t be too much in her life to celebrate. ‘I try to be. You only live the once—bit bloody pointless being depressed every day.’

His mouth quirked again.

Folding her slender arms across the top of the desk, she tilted forwards and bent her head to one side, her arched brows lifting in silent challenge.

Eamonn rewarded her with a burst of masculine laughter, the sound seeming to echo around the room. ‘And to think you used to be shy.’

‘I outgrew it.’

‘Obviously. You outgrew a lot of things, from what I can see. And not too badly either.’

His eyes sparkled across at her, and for a moment her heart caught. Ah, no. He couldn’t just waltz in looking all gorgeous and flirt with her. He was a decade and a half too late for that. And he had as much reliability as an ice cube on a summer’s day.

Colleen had enough problems, thank you.

There was the sound of approaching hooves on the cobbled yard outside, and Eamonn’s head turned towards the sound. He pushed off the counter and walked to the windows in a couple of long strides, looking out at each horse as it went by.

Tempting as it was to just sit and study his profile, all lit up from the window as it was, Colleen knew better than to let herself. So, her eyes on his curls, turning a dark chocolate in the sunlight, she pushed back from the desk and wandered across to stand a little behind him.

Her expert eyes glanced over each of the large animals as they walked by outside the window, taking in their conformation, their condition, the evenness of stride, assessing each one with an all-encompassing glance that took a matter of seconds. The rest of Inisfree Stud might look tatty round the edges, but the horses were still top class. It was the only point of pride she had left.

She glanced up at the side of his head. ‘So, can you still not stand the sight of them?’

Eamonn turned his face towards hers and locked eyes once again, this time up close and personal. There wasn’t the tiniest flicker in the hazel depths, or on his face. Not a hint of humour or regret. Just a simple blinking of his dark lashes as he took a moment or two longer than necessary to answer. ‘Can’t say I want to run out there and feed them carrots.’

So close to him for the first time in years, Colleen was suddenly overwhelmed by his masculine scent. In the company of horses most of the time, as she was, she wasn’t used to such sensual tones. It was musky, spice with an underlying hint of sweetness, and it clung to her nose and pervaded her throat, almost as if she could taste him. And while she still had her head tilted up to look into his eyes the combination of awareness and proximity did things to her nerve-endings that hadn’t been done for a long, long time. If ever.

It just wasn’t fair. Someone somewhere really hated her, didn’t they? Bringing him back now.

‘My dad’s biggest disappointment.’

The words caught her unawares, and for a split second she gaped up at him in open surprise. ‘Eamonn, that wasn’t your dad’s biggest disappointment. Don’t be daft. You couldn’t force yourself to like them when you didn’t.’

‘I should have, though. It was in my genetic make-up.’

‘Not everyone loves horses like—’

‘Like you do?’

Colleen smiled then. ‘I was going to say like your dad did. But I guess it’s true of me too. It’s just something that’s in me.’

‘Then you’ll not understand how I feel any better than my dad did.’

Now, where had that come from? Why would he care what she thought? She was about to open her mouth and quiz him when he turned and, underestimating the space he needed to give her, brushed his arm against her stomach. Frowning, he dropped his gaze in surprise. Then his head shot back up, his eyes wide.

Colleen smiled ruefully. ‘Don’t worry—I bump things all the time now. It’s not your fault. Just comes with the territory.’

‘I didn’t know.’

‘No, well, it’s not like I took an ad out in the paper in Outer Mongolia, or wherever it was you were.’ She felt her cheeks warming, suddenly embarrassed by her condition. Well, at least under the scrutiny of someone she had once dreamed would have helped get her into that condition.

‘Peru.’

‘Peru, then.’ She stepped back, her hand going to the small of her back as she made her way back to the desk.

‘I didn’t know you were married.’

‘You don’t have to actually be married to get one of these. I’m sure I have a book on high school biology somewhere you could read.’

Ignoring her sarcasm, he asked the obvious. ‘So you’re not married?’

‘Nope.’ She sat back down on the old chair, which creaked a little under her weight. ‘Not married.’

‘Engaged, then?’

She waved her hands in front of her face. ‘Nope, no rings on these fingers.’

Not any more.

Eamonn looked surprised. ‘You’ll be getting engaged soon, though?’

Momentarily amused by his assumption, she shuffled the paperwork on her desk into a neater pile, and put it all back inside its manila folder. ‘No. I tried that, and it didn’t turn out so good. He walked. So there’s just me and the fifteen-stone baby now.’ She glanced up at him. ‘I had no idea you were so old-fashioned.’

‘Some things I’m old-fashioned about. Like a kid having two parents.’

‘Well, this one will just have to make do with me.’

Eamonn stared at her in silence for a long, long time. Then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he lowered his voice and asked, ‘What happened?’

The question was an innocent one, she knew, and he meant well. Under normal circumstances she’d have been touched that he wanted to know. But he had no way of knowing how loaded a question it was—of the repercussions the answer would have on his own life. Or what those repercussions had meant for his father.

Colleen would never, ever forgive herself for the mistake she’d made. Because, thanks to her, Eamonn’s father was dead. How exactly did she go about telling him something like that?

Looking into the hazel eyes that for most of her teenage years she had wanted to look at her with the kind of warmth they now held for a brief second, she just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t tell him. Not yet. Yes, she would have to at some stage. But just not yet. Not today.

‘It ended badly.’ Which barely began to explain what had happened.

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

Not half as sorry as Colleen was.




Chapter Two


EAMONN didn’t know what he’d expected when he’d come back to Killyduff, the tiny village he’d once called home. But if he’d had a list of things he wouldn’t have expected…

Colleen McKenna being so grown-up had to be expected, he supposed. But she’d grown up pretty damn well. In his memory she’d been this scrawny little slip of a thing who had followed him around the farm like a puppy. She’d been a tomboy back then—sometimes in jeans, sometimes in riding jodhpurs, always in muddy boots. Wherever she’d been there had been a fat, hairy pony of some shape or other, and a dog with a permanently wagging tail. On the very odd occasion when she’d entered his thoughts that was how he’d thought of her. The little kid whose fair hair he had always ruffled.

She wasn’t that now.

When he’d driven back through the narrow lanes and looked at the open scenery around him his mind had been filled with memories. So many of them bad ones—or happy ones tinged with a bittersweet after-taste. And when he’d walked into the office he had even been prepared for a moment to see his father behind the desk. Even though he’d known that wouldn’t happen ever again.

Even though part of him had wanted the older man to be there. Just one last time. A ghost to lay to rest his own ghosts, or rather his demons.

The sight, then, of a fully grown, sparkling-eyed woman behind the desk his father had occupied for so long had caught him off guard. It had even taken him a few seconds to realise who she was. And then her direct way of speaking had amused him. The way her eyes would flicker away from him and then back had fascinated him.

But the sight of her so full and rounded with a baby? Looking as feminine as a woman could, lush and glowing. That had knocked him sideways.

Then to find out some jerk had walked off and left her like that…

Well, he wasn’t sure why the thought of that annoyed him so much. Maybe simply because out of all the bad memories he had from this place he’d once called home it would have been nice to be left with one happy one. That the Colleen he remembered was happy and settled.

It would have been nice if one of them had figured out how to be happy.

If she’d been better settled he wouldn’t have felt quite so bad about what he’d decided to do. He had hoped she’d be in a position to keep the place if she wanted to. But that wasn’t looking likely, was it? It made him think somewhat more deeply about his plans.

What would she do when her baby came? How would she cope alone? How would she make her living? The questions shouldn’t have been on his mind as much as they suddenly were. It wasn’t really his concern, after all. But the questions were there regardless. And what had been planned as a flying visit—literally—wasn’t looking so likely.

He took a deep breath. Damn it. It was a complication he didn’t need. And it wasn’t as if Colleen McKenna was his responsibility.

After a wander around the large old farmhouse, he threw some things out of his bag, showered, and searched through the cupboards for something to eat that might wake him up. Sleeping might be what his body craved, but he knew jet-lag well enough to know the sooner he adjusted to the time zone he was in the better.

Then, with the light fading outside, he wandered to the back of the house and looked out over the empty yard.

To catch sight of Colleen, pushing a huge wheelbarrow.

What the—?

He was in front of the stable she was in in less than two minutes. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

Colleen’s head jerked up at the sound of his sharp voice, and the huge grey horse beside her baulked. Immediately her hand came out, smoothing along the horse’s wide neck to reassure it. ‘Evening stables. What does it look like I’m doing? Belly dancing?’

Eamonn scowled as she smiled at her own joke. ‘You shouldn’t be doing this. Isn’t there someone else?’

‘The two girls we have left do most of it before they go home, but I do a wee skip round and check the rugs before I go to bed.’

‘On your own?’

‘Yes, on my own.’ His astonishment seemed to surprise her. ‘I’m pregnant, Eamonn. I’m not in a wheelchair. And keeping moving is good for me.’

‘Wheeling a bloody great wheelbarrow about isn’t.’

‘Are you a gynaecologist now?’

‘No, I don’t need to be. It’s common sense.’ His eyes narrowed as the large horse stepped towards him to investigate. He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and spread his feet wider, as if preparing himself for an attack, which made Colleen laugh aloud.

‘I’d tell you Bob doesn’t bite, but I’d be lying. And if you keep your hands in your pockets like that he’ll think you have food.’

Eamonn removed his hands, held his palms out for the horse to nuzzle in evidence of his lack of food, and tilted his head to see past to what Colleen was doing.

She was lifting droppings onto a shavings fork. While he opened his mouth to give out to her again, she spoke in a softly firm voice. ‘Bob, back.’

Bob dutifully stepped back from the door.

‘And another one. Back.’

He stepped back again, leaving enough room for Colleen to deposit what she was carrying into the wheelbarrow she had placed across the open doorway. She looked around the stable floor again. ‘I’ll be done in a minute anyway. I’ve just this row to do.’

‘I’m not happy with you pushing that wheelbarrow around in your condition.’

‘Thoughtful as that is, I’ve survived without your help this far. I can make it to the end.’

‘Are you always this stubborn?’

Her head turned as she fluffed the wood shavings into place, one eyebrow quirking. ‘I’ve always been this stubborn. Don’t you remember that much?’

‘I remember you frequently being a pain in the—’

She laughed. ‘Oh, I was that too.’

He wheeled the barrow out of the way as she came out of the stable, pausing to pat the horse’s neck again before she closed the stable door, bolted the top bolt and kicked the bottom into place.

She then turned to retrieve the barrow. But Eamonn jerked his head towards the next stable. Stubborn only went so far with him. ‘If I can’t stop you then I’m wheeling the barrow. So hurry up.’

‘I can do this just fine without your help.’

The rise of her chin and the glint in her eyes amused him, gave him a small sense of pride at her fierce independence that almost made him smile. Almost. If he smiled she’d think she’d won. And she hadn’t. ‘I believe you. But I’m here now, so learn to live with it. Now, hurry up. It’s bloody freezing out here.’

‘Warmer in Borneo, was it?’

‘Peru. And, yes it was.’He jerked his head again, ‘Go on, then.’

After a moment of hesitation, she sighed, and then moved to the next stable, where a finer darker head was over the door. ‘Get back, Meg.’

Eamonn watched with less surprise as the animal did as it was bid. ‘Do they all jump when you ask them to?’

‘They know who’s boss.’

He wheeled the barrow into place the same way she had at the previous stable, before leaning against the doorframe, watching her movements, and that of the horse, with cautious eyes. ‘You’re still taking a chance going in there, though. You know that.’

‘Everyone who works with horses is taking a chance. It comes with the territory.’

Oh, he knew. Knew better than most people on the street. But then he’d seen first-hand what could go wrong, and that kind of memory tended to stick with a person. The day his mother had taken her bad fall he’d been ten. It had been the last time she had ever sat on a horse, and less than five years later she’d quit trying to like horses for her husband’s sake. And left.

As the old memory seared across his mind and his heart, leaving a dull ache in its wake, he glanced around the empty yard. ‘Don’t any of the stable girls live in any more?’

‘Not since the last foreign groom we had, no. They tend to live in the town. There’s more going on there. The shops are closer—and, more importantly, the pubs.’

Eamonn put the pieces together. ‘So you’re out here doing this on your own with no one even within shouting distance?’

‘Uh-huh.’ She set her fingertips against the horse’s side. ‘Meg, over. Good girl.’

He was scowling by the time she dumped into the barrow again. ‘So you’re telling me you could get hurt and there would be no one here to help you ’til morning?’

‘Pretty much.’ She stopped, leaning on the handle of the shavings fork as she studied his scowling face in the dim light outside the stable. Then she shook her head and smiled. ‘Jeez.’ She fumbled in her jacket pocket and produced a small mobile phone, which she wiggled back and forth in front of her. ‘I can call for help. See? Prepared for every emergency, that’s me. So you can quit fussing over me like an old mother hen. I’m grand.’

‘Well, while I’m here you don’t do this stuff alone.’

‘What are you, now? My guardian angel?’

A brief nod in reply and, ‘For now.’

The firmly spoken words made her eyes widen for a split second, and Eamonn felt a smile build on the corners of his mouth again. The kind of smile that made it all the way down inside his chest. When was the last time he’d smiled like that?

But then it was the first time since he’d come home that he’d felt vaguely in control. More like his usual self. And it was an even longer time since he’d had so capable a sparring partner. A victory was a victory, no matter how small.

Her blue eyes swept to a point above his head.

After a second he tilted his chin and looked upwards. Then he looked back at the deadpan expression on her face. ‘What?’

‘I think your halo’s a little crooked.’

And just like that the victory was taken away from him. A burst of deep, resonating laughter escaped his lips. It had been one hell of a long time since anyone had spoken to him like she did. It was refreshing as be damned.

Colleen rewarded him with a glorious smile in return, ‘Make yourself useful, then, and move the barrow. Back, Meg.’

The smile remained on his face as they made their way down the line of stables. Watching each horse from the corner of his eye, he observed how Colleen efficiently manoeuvred the animals, and did what she had to do with an ease of movement that spoke of confidence and physical ability, even with her ungainly size.

He allowed himself to study her closer.

She was very different from the women he’d known for most of his adult life. When he dated he dated in NewYork—his base for his travels. In New York he had the job that supported his many meanderings around the world in search of something he’d never found. In New York he filled in time between work and trips with the kind of women who dated professionally, who knew what face to present to the kind of guy they were trying to get. They dressed in clothes that accentuated their figures, had manicured nails, and hair that was tamed in such a way it was supposed to look natural. But Colleen…

Colleen was what Colleen was; there was no carefully constructed outer appearance. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, and from the exertion involved in her task; her blonde hair was already escaping in long curling strands from the soft band that held it in a single ponytail at the nape of her neck. The long lashes that framed her startling blue eyes were free from mascara—as free as her full lips were from lipstick. In fact the redness of her lips was only due to how she would chew on them with the edge of her even white teeth as she concentrated on what she was doing.

And the rumour about pregnant women seeming to glow was apparently true too. All in all, she was the most naturally gorgeous woman he’d ever seen. And for the first time in his life Eamonn was finding a pregnant woman highly attractive.

What would be the point in that, though? It wasn’t as if anything could come of it. His life was in New York, and the other places he journeyed to, and hers was in this tiny corner of Ireland he’d walked away from. With her horses. And it wasn’t as if he spent a whole heap of time around kids—well, not every day anyway. A purely physical relationship was out of the question too. Because, apart from the most obvious restrictions, she was Colleen. She was practically family.

He was obviously a lot more tired than he’d thought. And he hadn’t had a recent partner to distract him in a while. Something he would have to remedy when he got home.

Eamonn mulled it over as he pulled the barrow back from the door and moved to the next one.

Colleen was obviously a very capable woman. So what had him wheeling a barrow for her and offering to be her guardian angel? Being an angel wasn’t something he was famous for, after all.

Maybe it was simply the age-old gene that demanded that the male of the species protect the female while she carried a child? A genetic thing in Colleen’s make-up that made her attractive to him, so that he felt the need to be protective towards her?

He smiled at the thought. Nah. If that was all it was then he’d be chasing around after every vaguely pregnant woman, opening doors and offering to carry shopping. Though he guessed if he ever took a bus or a train anywhere he would give up his seat. But then he didn’t need to take a bus or a train, he had a driver, and all it really proved was that he still had good manners.

It was more likely to be some kind of guilt.

And that thought made him frown. How could he hope to fix past wrongs by helping push a wheelbarrow around the yard now?

But, back amongst all the memories he had chosen not to remember about home, there had always been the hope that things would be better than he’d left them. That somewhere a simple form of happiness existed. Maybe by helping Colleen a little he could build that for her. Some.

At least before he pulled the rug out from under her feet. It certainly might make him feel better when he did.

‘You’ll give yourself a headache, y’know.’

He blinked as she stepped towards the door. ‘I’ll what?’

Colleen smiled a soft smile, her eyes twinkling in amusement. ‘With all that thinking you’re doing. You’ll give yourself a headache.’

Eamonn found himself momentarily caught off guard again by her directness. When was the last time he’d been in the company of someone who said what they thought out loud at the drop of a hat?

Maybe it was a reflection of how far he’d gone in the world, of how successful he’d become. People no longer had that kind of honesty around him. And yet, if more people did, he’d probably have more respect for them. Like he did now, for Colleen.

There was a girlish giggle from the stable. ‘Don’t people have conversations in America?’

‘Yeah, they do. But I guess I’m not used to someone being as blunt as you are.’

Colleen raised her chin and blinked a couple of times, a small line appearing between her arched eyebrows. ‘Have you ever considered that that might be a reflection on you? You never were all that chatty, y’know. Puts people on edge—makes them careful about what they say.’

‘I talk to people every day. It comes with the job.’

‘And when’s the last time you talked to someone about something that wasn’t work-related?’

Good question.

She stepped towards the door, waiting for him to move the wheelbarrow as she absentmindedly stroked the horse’s neck. And she spoke again, her voice lower. ‘Yeah, that’s what I thought.’

The barrow stayed still, keeping her prisoner inside the stable as Eamonn studied her intently. Then he shook his head. ‘Don’t you ever just think about things inside your head sometimes, without saying them out loud?’

Colleen went silent, something crossing over her face—something fleeting. But it had been there. Then as quickly as it had arrived it was gone, and she shrugged her shoulders. ‘If I always say what I think then people don’t have to try and read between the lines. There’s less of a problem with interpretation. And that way mistakes are less likely to get made.’

Somehow Eamonn just knew there was a story behind that. But even as he phrased the question in his head she was pointing at the wheelbarrow. ‘I thought you were helping?’

And the moment to ask her was gone as he moved the barricade. Maybe just because it was easier to let it go, not because he didn’t want to know. He did. He was curious about her.

But curiosity wasn’t really on the agenda. He wouldn’t be there long enough, and it wouldn’t matter when he left. Because he had no intention of ever coming back. There was nothing in Ireland that could hold him.

Though if Colleen hadn’t been pregnant he supposed he might have stayed to play a while, to find out what was beneath her independent, capable façade. He was only human, after all. And he did like a challenge.

Maybe it was just as well she was pregnant. It put her out of reach. Kept her safe. Made things less complicated than they already were.

But the fact that he already liked what he had seen so far meant he would take the time to ease her into his plans. Out of respect, if nothing else.

He just needed to get some sleep first. So he was less distracted by her.




Chapter Three


COLLEEN didn’t sleep so well.

She could have blamed the baby entirely, but it seemed a tad unfair to be giving out to him or her before they even arrived. Her insomnia had as much to do with spending time around Eamonn as it did with a restless unborn baby.

Though the baby didn’t help.

And the dreams her furtive imagination had conjured in the brief moments of sleep she had grabbed didn’t help either. Her body was filled up with baby, for goodness’ sake! It shouldn’t feel the need to dream about the very act that had got it that way—even if in her dreams the players had been a tad different…

As she walked across the yard early the next morning she was smoothing her hand over her swollen stomach, trying hard to get what she thought was a bottom moved back into a more comfortable position, while she tried to focus her mind away from her dreams.

Babies were supposed to know how to get out, weren’t they? If hers was unfortunate enough to have inherited his or her mother’s sense of direction then it could well be pushing at her belly button so hard for the wrong reason. Not just because space was getting limited.

It was very uncomfortable. Almost painful.

But not anywhere near as painful as rounding the corner and finding Eamonn talking to the stable girls. They were giggling as she caught sight of them; one even had her hip tilted towards his tall frame. And for Colleen it was like a knife to the heart.

How many times had she walked around a corner or into a room or up to the school bus and found a girl looking at him like that? The answer was, quite honestly, dozens. And every single time it had killed her. Because he had smiled at them like he’d never smiled at her—laughed with them in a way he had never laughed with her. So that every single time she’d caught him flirting with them it had made her feel like a lesser person—because he didn’t try to flirt with her. But this time it wasn’t just a case of echoes of the jealousy she’d felt then, she reasoned, it had much more to do with a recent humiliation.

It wasn’t Eamonn’s fault, or the fault of the yard girls she knew so well. They weren’t to blame for the sins of others. And Colleen scowled at her momentary weakness.

One of the girls caught sight of her scowling face and nudged the other as Eamonn turned in her direction. As the girls scampered off to work he moved towards her, and Colleen straightened her spine, pinning a smile in place.

It wasn’t as if she had any reason to be jealous or angry. Not this time anyway.

‘Morning.’

His voice was as soft as the smile he aimed her way, and she wished she had her old figure back so she could tilt her hip towards him as she spoke. For years after he’d left she had dreamed about him coming home to get her. Like some sort of a knight on a white charger.

Which had been a bit far-fetched, considering his lack of love for all things equine.

But in her fantasy she had been beautiful, ravishing, positively irresistible. Not blotchy, the size of a barn door, with swollen ankles.

Murphy’s Law. She smiled at the irony.

‘You look tired.’

Her smile faded. ‘Flatterer.’

‘I was just talking to the girls about them trying to do a bit more before they leave at night.’

Colleen blinked in confusion. ‘A bit more? A bit more how, exactly?’

Eamonn shrugged. ‘Just until your baby is here.’

The words stilled the hand on her stomach and she gaped at him. ‘Why would you do that?’

‘Why do you think?’

The blinking and gaping continued. Oh, this wasn’t for real. Eamonn Murphy was looking out for her now? Taking her welfare on as his concern? Why would he do that? Was she so pathetic a figure?

‘I’ve told you already, I’m not an invalid. And me and the girls have done just fine so far. I don’t need you organising things for me.’

He fell into step beside her as she began to walk away, her head held high with a stubborn lift of her chin. Glancing at her profile with a small smile, he attempted to make peace. ‘I’m trying to be helpful.’

‘Well, you can knock it on the head.’

‘I’ve had a look round the place this morning, and it seems to me you could do with some more help.’

The words stopped her dead in her tracks, as if she’d hit some invisible wall. Then she swung to face him, her eyes glinting in warning. ‘And where were you when help was needed before, Mr Big-Shot?’

His smile faded instantaneously.

Even though guilt twisted inside her, Colleen couldn’t have stopped the accusation from coming out. She shouldn’t have said it, had no right to throw her own sense of guilt onto his shoulders, no matter how broad they were. And it wasn’t as if his being there could have changed what had happened. But—

She swung a hand out to her side. ‘While you were off wandering around Madagascar some of us were here, trying to keep this place going! Some of us felt this legacy was worth fighting for.’

The jibe hit home, and she watched as his nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed for a very brief second. Then he stepped in as close as her distended belly would allow and leaned his head in closer, his voice low. ‘I’ve never been to Madagascar. And if I’d had any idea this place was in such a bad state I’d have done something about it before now. You think if Dad had even once told me he needed help that he wouldn’t have got it? I knew what this place meant to him, Colleen. And I could have done something to fix it if he’d told me.’

Even while the voice of reason shouted in her head for her to shut up, she was raising her chin again, so she could look him in the eye rather than focus on the sensual sweep of his mouth. If she focused on his eyes she could try to ignore the wild beating of her pulse in response to his proximity. She could pretend that she had control over the rapid thud of her heart. She could give herself a moment to control her breathing.

But looking into his eyes so close up wasn’t any less distracting. Up close she could see that there were flecks of gold through the hazel—gold that seemed to glow fiercely at her as he stared her down. And anger rose up in her stomach in reaction to her own lack of self-control.

‘Your father and mine built this place out of love. You throwing money at it wouldn’t be the same thing. There’s no way in hell your father would have taken your money, and you know it. It wasn’t money he needed from you!’

The gold flared. ‘Money would have let him keep this place the way he wanted it. And we both know this place meant more to him than anything else, don’t we?’He smiled sarcastically. ‘The world doesn’t revolve around love.’

Colleen’s breath caught. Fighting down a wave of hurt, she answered him with a tight-lipped, ‘Oh, I know that. I know that better than most people, thanks.’

One large hand caught her arm as she turned away. Held it tight in a vice-like grip for a second, before she looked down at it, and then back up with a determined gaze. A gaze that said clearly, Back off or I’ll fight you off.

Unexpectedly the hold softened, his thumb brushing back and forth as his voice sounded in a low grumble. ‘Is it really so hard for you to let someone look out for your welfare? Even for a little while?’

Her heart thundered loud in her chest, and she took several breaths to calm herself while she freed her arm with a small twisting movement. Looking down again, she rubbed at the heated place where he had touched, as if rubbing it would somehow remove the brand of his touch. ‘You won’t be here that long, Eamonn. There’s no point in me getting used to you looking out for me.’

Eamonn stood statue-still as her eyes slowly rose to meet his.

She forced a tight smile into place. ‘I’m a big girl. I can look out for myself. It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’re doing. But, really, there’s no need. We horsey women are made of sterner stuff.’

He didn’t move as she turned away from him. But in the space of a heartbeat—less time than it took for her to retreat two steps—his deep voice sounded again. ‘Fight me all you want, Colleen McKenna. But you’re getting my help.’

Colleen stopped dead—didn’t look at him, couldn’t, her heart still beating loud in her chest. It didn’t make any sense. What did it matter to him?

‘Why?’ It was as eloquent a reply as she could manage.

‘Because it’s fairly obvious you need it, whether you’ll admit it or not.’He moved closer to her with one long step, his voice sounding above her ear. ‘Put it down to a guy thing, if you have to. But that’s the way it is. You won’t change my mind.’

There was a brief pause. Then he continued. ‘I found your stuff in the house this morning. You’ve been living there, rather than in the Gatehouse. So where did you stay last night while you avoided me?’

Colleen felt her cheeks flame. She hadn’t been back to the Gatehouse since her world had fallen apart. But telling him that would be opening up a can of worms, and she still wasn’t ready. ‘The Gatehouse is kept for renting out. And it’s rented now, as it happens. I slept in one of the rooms above the stables.’

‘Why?’

‘Because technically it’s your house now.’ She aimed a glance over her shoulder. ‘It didn’t feel right, that’s all. I wasn’t avoiding you. I was respecting your space.’

A small exhalation of breath accompanied by a quirk of his dark brows told her he wasn’t buying that. Then his eyes skimmed over her face as he spoke. ‘Well, I’d prefer it if you stayed in the house. It’s been your home for a while, judging by how much of your stuff is there.’

‘Your dad started to find it tough getting around. It made sense to have someone keep him company. In case he needed help with anything.’

Eamonn’s face darkened. ‘I didn’t know he was that bad.’

‘No.’ With a sigh, she turned and lifted her chin to look up into his face. ‘And that wasn’t your fault—not entirely. He wouldn’t have told you, was too proud to ask for your help. He was a stubborn man.’

He glanced down for a moment, his thick lashes disguising his thoughts from her. Then he took a breath and lifted his chin, looking deeply into her eyes for a long, long moment. Almost as if he was searching for something. ‘Then maybe he and I weren’t all that different after all.’ Another breath, and he added, ‘You’ll stay in the house, Colleen, whether it’s mine or not. And you’ll accept my help ’til this baby is born. No arguments. That’s the way it’s going to be, and that’s that.’

She opened her mouth to argue.

But he spoke again. ‘I may not have been here to help him when I should have. But I’m here now. You’re getting my help, so learn to deal with it.’

Colleen stood in the middle of the cobbled yard as he walked away, his long, confident strides putting distance between them. And even while her mind recognised that the baby had shifted into a position where it wasn’t so painful, she was deeply aware of another ache. In her chest.

Eamonn might be righting some of his perceived past wrongs by helping her out. Wrongs that might be monumental in his mind, but could be nothing compared to what she’d let happen. Maybe he remembered as much about the day he’d left as she did—the words that father and son had thrown at each other in the heat of the moment. But he hadn’t been responsible for the man’s death.

While Colleen had. Indirectly.

She had no right to accept any form of a helping hand from Eamonn. No matter how much she might want it. And no matter how much she would reluctantly admit to herself she could do with it.

Regardless of all that, even under perfect circumstances, there would be no point in becoming reliant on him. Because he wouldn’t stay. It wasn’t in him. Never had been.

No matter how much the young Colleen might have wanted to be taken care of by him, how she had longed for him to simply care, the simple fact was he never had.

And if he hadn’t ever looked at her back then, there was just no way in hell he would look at her now she was damaged goods. Even before he knew everything.

No, Inisfree was the only thing she had left. The fact that it was in such a mess, that she couldn’t afford extra staff to do the work even temporarily, ’til she had her baby, was her fault at the end of the day. The burden was hers alone.

And the sooner Eamonn went back to his glamorous world the better. Because she couldn’t let herself get sucked back into a useless fantasy.

But knowing all that didn’t stop her chest from aching as she stood alone in the centre of the yard, watching him walk away.




Chapter Four


‘HOW long will you be there, do you think?’

Eamonn pressed the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he worked on his laptop, and his partner’s voice continued. ‘Gimme a vague idea.’

‘I really don’t know, Pete. It’s more complicated than I thought it would be.’

‘Well, I won’t say I couldn’t do with you here. Marcy is making me crazy with all the extra hours I’m doing. I could be divorced by the time you get back.’

Eamonn smiled. ‘Nah, I doubt that, somehow. Though why she married you in the first place is still a mystery to me. She’s too good for the likes of you.’

‘That’s as may be. But now that she’s got me, I’d kinda like it if she hung on. At least when your workaholic butt was here she got to see me.’

‘It’s about time you did something, right enough. I couldn’t keep carrying the both of us for ever.’

Laughter sounded down the line. It wasn’t true, and they both knew it. Eamonn had struck gold when he’d met Pete. Fourth generation Irish, the gentle giant had taken the newly arrived, wet behind the ears Eamonn under his wing in the big city. Without his help and his contacts Eamonn might never have made it. And he would never forget that.

‘You couldn’t carry me if you had a truck.’

Eamonn smiled. ‘I have the info here on the Queens project. I’ll look it over and e-mail you back any thoughts I have—okay?’

‘No problem, buddy.’ There was a pause, then, ‘You doin’ okay?’

‘Course I am.’ But even as the words came out he was asking himself if they weren’t a lie. He didn’t know what he was.

‘Can’t be easy, missin’ your dad’s funeral and all.’

Eamonn took a breath, moved the receiver from one ear to the other. No, that part wasn’t easy. The least he could have done was be there to pay his respects. To say sorry for not having come back sooner. He’d always thought there would be time—that the bridges that had started to mend through phone calls would be the first steps towards him seeing his father again face to face. Instead he’d had to make do with a silent vigil by a graveside under a grey sky that had wept tears he couldn’t shed himself. Weeks after his father had been buried. It didn’t make him feel like much of a man.

‘I have a couple of issues to work through. But I’m fine, Pete. Really. You don’t need to worry.’

‘Well, look, I hope the visit home does you good. You’ve been restless a while now.’

Wasn’t that the truth? He’d tried burying himself in work for years, had made a clean fortune out of it. But that hadn’t been enough. He’d dated—stunningly beautiful women, as it happened—but nothing that had lasted. And he’d travelled, seen parts of the world he could only have dreamed of when he’d been growing up in the wilds of Ireland.

But he was still restless.

And now he was rearranging his life to continue a visit that should have taken only a few days, to take care of someone who really didn’t want his help.

He took another breath. ‘I’ll send this stuff through in a while, Pete. E-mail me anything else that comes up, and we’ll work that way ’til I get back.’

Pete took a similar breath and gave up. ‘Right. Okay, then. I’ll talk to you soon.’

‘Send my love to Marcy.’

‘Sure I will. If I ever get to see her again.’

Eamonn set the receiver down and stared at the laptop screen for a long while, his eyes not even focusing on the e-mail. What was he doing?

The next time he saw Colleen he was going to have to have more belief in her strength and tell her why he’d come back. What it was he wanted to do to sever his ties for good.

It just would have been easier if she’d been in a position to buy him out. If he hadn’t thought that telling her his plans might be the one thing to break the thin hold she had on what she obviously cared about the most. The thing he needed gone, so his last link to Ireland was severed. And he’d never have to come back again.

It was just business. That was all.



Colleen avoided him for as long as she could. But eventually the growling in her stomach refused to be ignored. And though on her own she could have coped with hunger, she wasn’t eating just for herself. As if somehow sensing she was being stubborn about it, the baby leaned on her again. Hard.

She smoothed a hand against the protruding bump. ‘All right, I hear you. We’ll go now.’

Eamonn was already in the large old kitchen when she came in through the door, his laptop open on the huge wooden table.

He glanced up at her, his eyes studying her face for a long moment. ‘You feeling okay?’

Colleen quirked a brow. ‘Are you going to ask me that every time you see me?’

His mouth twitched, eyes sparking. She was just so defensive sometimes, so determined to challenge him, that it amused him. How else was a man supposed to react to a woman so gloriously large with child? It was his job to be considerate, even if he wasn’t the father. That was what the good guys did.

What amused him more was that being around her had him thinking of himself as a good guy. Being a bad boy around women had always worked for him better.

She tilted her head and continued. ‘I have to go to the toilet the second I finish a cup of tea, my back aches, but not as much as my feet, and the baby has been trying to push a hole through my stomach all day. But apart from that I’m just grand. Is that enough information for you, or should I go into a bit more graphic detail?’

A low whistle sounded between his teeth. ‘Man, but you’re testy, aren’t you?’

‘Testy?’ She blinked at the word. ‘As soon as nature organises it for men to carry the babies you can talk to me about being testy.’

‘The human race would die out.’

‘You’re damn right it would.’

When he grinned, a dimple appearing in full glory on his cheek, she smiled back. It was a rare flash of acquiescence. But she couldn’t hold his gaze for long, though, and felt a flush building on her neck. Instead she nodded at the fridge. ‘I came to get something to eat. Have you had lunch?’

‘No, I haven’t.’It wasn’t a big surprise. He’d always been one of those people who could get through from breakfast to dinner so long as there was coffee. But he was irritated he hadn’t thought of Colleen. So much for being a good guy.

He pushed his chair back from the table, the legs screeching on the slate floor. ‘Sit down. I’ll rustle something up for us.’

Colleen shook her head, reaching a hand up self-consciously to tuck a long curl behind her ear. ‘You’re doing it again. I can make a sandwich—thanks anyway.’

Glancing at her with a spark of warning in his eyes, he pointed a long finger at the table. ‘Sit.’

With no idea why she did it, she sat down as she was bid. But she eased her annoyance with herself for obeying by pouting. And then felt childish. Damn him.

‘Is there anything you can’t eat?’

She folded her arms defensively across her breasts. ‘Is that a dig at my size?’

There was brief moment of tense silence, and then he laughed at her deadpan expression, the oh-so-male sound echoing around the cavernous room. ‘No-o. It was a query in case anything I made would make you sick.’

Her mouth pursed momentarily in thought, before she sighed dramatically. ‘Not really. I’ve been past all that stuff for a while. But if you put a pickled anything in it, it would taste one heck of a lot better.’

Inside a few minutes he had made sandwiches, with pickled onions on one side of hers, and two steaming mugs of tea. To distract herself from watching him move around the kitchen, Colleen allowed herself to glance at his laptop screen. It had no effect on her pulse whatsoever.

He pulled up a chair beside her. ‘It’s work.’

Flushing slightly at having been caught looking at what could have been private information, she avoided his gaze. ‘No rest for the wicked, eh?’

‘Apparently not. In which case I must have been really bad at some point.’

Concentrating on her sandwich for a moment, while her mind did outrageous translations of ‘really bad’, she then risked a sideways glance at his face as she raised the sandwich to her lips. ‘Sharon Delaney being a good example, I suppose?’

Eamonn’s eyes widened a fraction. ‘You knew about that?’

‘Half the village knew about it.’

‘Nothing actually happened.’ There was no reason for him to explain that to her, but he continued. ‘Staying out all night got us in enough trouble.’

‘Oh, I remember.’

Eamonn’s attention was drawn from the teasing light in her blue eyes to her mouth as she bit into the sandwich. He watched her lips close around it, watched as she licked bread-crumbs away with the tip of her pink tongue. It was one of the most sensual things he’d ever witnessed. Who knew that a sandwich could have such an effect? It never had before that he could recall.

‘What else do you remember?’

Colleen turned her face away from his intensive gaze, her voice dropping. ‘I have the memory of an elephant.’ She smiled. ‘Size of one at the minute too.’

‘You keep on doing that. You’re not all that big. You’re having a baby, and that’s one of the most amazing things a woman can do.’

The softly spoken words touched a chord in her heart. She looked over at him, but he had turned his face away, leaving only his profile to her inquisitive gaze as he bit into his own sandwich.

It was one of the nicest things anyone had said to her of late. And at a time when she could stand a compliment or two. Waddling around every day certainly didn’t make her feel amazing.

But her guilt was still present, and she just didn’t know how to answer him because of it. She didn’t deserve compliments from him.

While she thought, Eamonn was doing some thinking of his own. Without changing position, he stared straight ahead and asked, ‘How long since he left?’

In a split second the warm glow from his words disappeared and was replaced by an icy chill. ‘Six months.’

Out of his peripheral vision he saw her head bow, her attention back on her food. So he turned his face towards her and watched the slow flutter of her long lashes against her cheeks. ‘What happened?’

Setting her sandwich back on the plate, she reached for the warmth of her mug, wrapping cold fingers around it. ‘He left with one of the stable girls. They’d been carrying on for a while.’

Eamonn might be many things, but slow wasn’t one of them. Maybe that was part of the reason she’d been so defensive earlier, when he’d been talking to the girls? It had brought back bad memories for her. But he let it go. One step at a time, Eamonn. Pushing Colleen didn’t always have the desired result, after all.

‘You had no idea it was going on?’

‘I think I knew, deep down. But I’m stubborn, remember? I thought it would all work itself out.’ She spoke over the rim of the cup, shrugging her shoulders. ‘He could be very charming, and I think a part of me was swept off my feet by him. At least at the start. So I could hardly blame some naïve girl for falling for him.’

She touched her mouth to the mug, hesitated, and glanced briefly at Eamonn’s face. ‘We see what we want to see sometimes, I guess.’

‘Did he know you were pregnant?’

‘Yes. No man who’s about to be a father shouldn’t know, don’t you think?’

Eamonn tilted his head and nodded briefly as she sipped out of her mug. ‘I’d want to know if you were having my baby.’

Colleen almost choked on her tea, her eyes watering as she forced it to go down the right channel without too much fuss. Dear Lord. Had he any idea what that statement did to a mind already full of night-time images? If he’d said something like that to her when she’d carried all those unrequited dreams before…

‘But then if it was mine I would never have left.’

Oh, c’mon! Her eyes widened at the statement as she turned to look at him. Why did he have to say things like that? Why did the words just have to roll off his tongue as if he was discussing the weather? Had he really no idea of the dreams she’d had as a teenager? Had he no idea at all that hearing parts of them spoken aloud now was like a kick in the teeth to a woman who had so seriously managed to pick the wrong man to be father to her child?

When she found words, they were almost a plea for him to understand how ridiculous his own words had been. ‘Right—that’s what you’d do. Even if it meant staying in a place where you hated being. That makes a lot of sense.’

‘I didn’t hate it here.’

She made a small snort of disbelief.

But his voice remained steady. ‘I just didn’t feel like I fitted in, and I was young—I thought there was more to life. That I should have a go at finding out.’

‘And was there?’

There was a brief electric pause as he looked her in the eye. Then he shrugged. ‘I’ve made more money in the States than I would ever have done here, that’s for sure.’

‘And is that enough? Are you happy, Eamonn?’

The sound of his name in such a soft tone caught him. Without thinking, he brought his gaze back to her mouth, and he stared for a long moment, mesmerised, before forcing himself to look up. He blinked—once, twice. Then, still not thinking it through, he reached a finger out and tucked the ever-errant strand of hair behind her ear again, before pushing his chair back, his voice low. ‘I’m not so sure it is enough.’

Looking down at her stunned expression, he smiled wryly. ‘And, just for the record, that’s the first time I’ve said that out loud.’




Chapter Five


A GROWN, mature woman, in charge of her faculties really shouldn’t feel shyness. But it was like being fifteen all over again when she ventured into the house after dark.

All afternoon—while she’d made phone calls, arranged for vet visits, ordered wormers and checked feed store levels—her mind had been obsessed by one fleeting touch and a softly spoken confession.

Which had led her to ask several silent questions. The main one being: what had happened to him since he’d left?

Surely someone who looked the way he did hadn’t been lonely? At least not for long. Colleen remembered vividly how girls had gravitated towards him. She’d hated every single one of them back in the day.

And yet the look on his face when he’d spoken had reflected a deep sense of loneliness, almost of need. The part of her that had cared so much for him so many years ago desperately wanted to understand why. Not that there was anything she could do to help beyond listening—if he would deign to talk.

It was a complication she could have done without. One that held her own confession back when it really should be something she got out into the open. Sooner rather than later. Avoiding it just made it worse.

As she kicked off her boots at the back door an unfamiliar noise greeted her ears. And as she worked her way through the kitchen and along the hall it got louder, positively deafening by the time she reached the family room at the front of the house.

When she peeked around the half-open door she couldn’t help but smile.

Eamonn’s head was nodding up and down in time to the music, his hand absentmindedly playing an air guitar with one hand as he looked through the dusty box in front of him with the other.

And then his voice sounded, loud and distinctly off-key, as he joined in with the music.

Colleen hid her mouth behind her hand and giggled. She couldn’t help herself.

But he obviously hadn’t heard her. He shook his head again, the curls on his dark cap of hair shifting, and then he raised both hands above the box and drummed in time with the bass beat.

With her hand still covering her mouth she let her eyes move over him from her position of safety. From the shifting curls, down past his wide shoulders to his tapering waist and the rounded curve of his behind. And deep inside of herself a mischievous imp prayed he would wiggle it. Just the once. Please.

Of course he chose that moment to turn and look directly at her.

Her eyes shot up and met his.

Slowly, ever so slowly, his hands lowered to his sides, and he smiled a little ruefully before moving over to the old record player and turning down the volume.

After a brief clearing of his throat, his deep voice rumbled in the sudden quiet. ‘I found some of my old collection up in my room.’

She plucked up her courage and walked into the room. ‘So I heard. Nice singing, by the way.’

His shoulders shook briefly in silent laughter. ‘Never did have much of a singing voice.’

Moving around the end of the sofa, Colleen eased down onto the well-worn cushions, lifting her aching feet onto a generously stuffed footstool. Then she sighed contentedly as she slid down into a comfortable position, her stomach rising before her eyes.

She blinked a couple of times at the sight, still sometimes finding it hard to equate the sight of the bump with her own body.

Eamonn replaced the rock music with a softer track as he watched Colleen smooth her hand over her stomach from the corner of his eye. She did that a lot during the day, he’d noticed. With only a moment of hesitation he stepped over her feet and sat down beside her, his head tilting to rest on the sofa-back.

And they sat that way for a long time as the record played, static sounding between tracks.

It occurred to Eamonn that it was the longest time he’d ever spent completely silent in a woman’s company. And it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant experience.

Then, with a turn of his head in her direction, he caught sight of her poking her fingers against an irregular bump below her crimson shirt. Her fingers circled it, pushed a little, circled again. When he looked up at her face she had her eyes closed. But she was smiling a small, secretive smile.

His gaze back on her fingers, he asked in a low voice, ‘Is that a foot you’re pushing?’

‘I think so.’ She opened her eyes, tilted her head forwards, so that her chin rested on her chest, and looked down at her hand, smoothing the soft material around the small bump so it was more defined.

‘Doesn’t it hurt when that happens?’

Long lashes fluttered as she raised her eyes to his, surprised by the look of fascination she saw there. ‘Not as much as when the precious pushes its bottom out. That can be very uncomfortable.’

The golden flecks in his hazel eyes glowed warmly across at her. ‘Does he do that often?’

Colleen smiled an amused smile. ‘He? What makes you so sure the baby is a he?’

‘She, then?’ The corners of his mouth twitched, hinting at a smile being held inside. He did that a lot, she’d noticed. As if he always felt the need to keep himself in check, controlled. It made her ache to tease the smile out, to have him soften and relax when he was around her.





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