Rescued: Mother-To-Be

‘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.