course not, you pea-brain. She's too discreet for that, though Brenna and I did pump her a bit. What's worrying you? As far as I can tell, Jude thinks you're the greatest lover since Solomon took Sheba.'
'Is that all it is, then? Sex and romance and being swept along for a few months. Nothing but that?'
The amusement faded from her eyes as she looked into his. 'I'm sorry, darling. You're truly upset. What happened?'
'I asked her to marry me last night.'
'You did?' Instantly she leaped on him, wrapping her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, squeezing like a delighted boa constrictor. 'Oh, but this is wonderful! I couldn't be happier for you!' Laughing, she gave him smacking kisses on both cheeks. 'Let's go down to the kitchen and tell Shawn, and call Ma and Dad.'
'She said no.'
'They'll want to come back and meet her before the wedding. And then we'll all- What?'
His heart sank deeper in his chest as Darcy gaped at him. 'She said no.'
Guilt all but swallowed her. 'She couldn't have. She didn't mean it.'
'She said it clear enough and was polite and added a thank you.' Oh, and that thank you was a bitter pill.
'Well, what the devil's wrong with her?' Abruptly furious, Darcy wiggled down and planted fists on her hips. Rage, as she knew well, was always a more comfortable fit than guilt. 'Of course she wants to marry you.'
'She said she didn't. She said she didn't want marriage at all. It's the fault of that bloody bastard who left her. Compared me to him, and when I called her there, she said how she had nothing else to compare to. Well, compare me to no one, by Christ. I'm who I am.'
'Of course you are, and ten times the man that William is.' Her fault, she thought again. She'd seen the fun of it, but hadn't counted on the pain. 'It wasn't-it wasn't just that she didn't want to leave her life in America, then?'
'We never got that far. And why wouldn't she when she's happy here as she never was there?'
'Well-' Darcy huffed out her breath and tried to think it through. 'It hadn't occurred to me that she wouldn't want marriage.'
'She's just not thinking beyond what happened before. I know it hurt her, and I'd like to wring the man's neck for it.' Emotions swirled into his eyes. 'But I won't hurt her.'
No, he would treasure and tend, as he did all the things he loved, Darcy thought, aching for him.
'Maybe it is, in part, a wound that isn't quite healed.
But the fact is, not all women want a ring and a baby under the apron.'
She wanted to get up and stroke and hug him into some comfort, but could see there was too much temper in his eyes yet for him to accept petting. 'I understand her feelings on that, Aidan. On the borders of it, the finality.'
'It's not an end but a beginning.'
'For you it would be, but it isn't for everyone.' Darcy sat back, drummed her fingers. 'Well, I'm a good judge, and I'm saying our Jude's the marrying kind, whether she believes it or not at the moment. A nester she is who's never had a chance to make that nest if you're asking me, before she came here on her own. Maybe we moved a bit faster than we should.'
'We?'
'You, I mean,' Darcy corrected as she thought of the plotting she'd done with Brenna. No need to mention that, she decided, since it seemed the mess made wasn't her fault-entirely. 'But it's too late to change that, so you'll just have to move forward. Persuade her.' She smiled again. 'Take some time on it, but let her see what she'd be giving up if she didn't grab what you're offering. You're a Gallagher, Aidan. Gallaghers get what they want sooner or later.'
'You're right.' Pieces of his shattered ego began to slide back into place. 'There's no moving back now. I'll just have to help her get used to the idea.'
Relieved to see the gleam back in his eyes, Darcy patted his cheek. 'My wager's on you.'
CHAPTER Eighteen
She wouldn't be expecting him, not so early in any case. But since Darcy was being so cooperative, Aidan had taken off a couple of hours before closing to walk the road to Jude's cottage.
The night was balmy with the breeze from the sea. Clouds sailed briskly over the sky so that patches of stars winked out, glimmered, then vanished. The moon was round and fat, its light gentle.
A fine night, Aidan thought, for romancing the woman you intended to marry.
He'd brought her a clutch of fairy roses in delicate pink that he'd stolen from Kathy Duffy's garden. He didn't think the woman would mind the loss when it was going to such a good cause.
There were lights glowing in her windows, a warm and welcome sight to him. He imagined that in years to come, when they were married and settled, it would be the same. He'd walk home after work and she'd be waiting with the lights burning to guide his step. It no longer surprised him how much he wanted that, or how clearly he could see it all. Night following night, year following year, toward a lifetime.
He didn't knock. Such formalities had already slipped away between them. He noted that she'd already tidied from the party. It was so like her, he thought with affection. Everything was neat and orderly and just as it should be.
He heard music drifting down the stairs and walked up toward it.
She was in her little office with the radio playing soft and the pup snoring at her feet under the table. Her hair was bound back, her fingers moving briskly over computer keys.
He had an urge to scoop her into his arms and gobble her whole. But he didn't think that was the right move under the circumstances.
Persuasion, he reminded himself, didn't come from the fast and the hot, but the slow and the warm.
He crossed to her, moving quietly, then bent down to brush a soft kiss on the nape of her neck.
She jolted, but he'd anticipated that and, chuckling, wrapped his arms around her so the flowers were under her chin and his mouth was at her ear.
'You look so pretty sitting here, a ghra, working away into the night. What tale are you spinning out?'
'Oh, I-' Her heart was in her throat. He was right that she hadn't expected him. Not just so early, but at all. She knew she'd been abrupt and rude, and even cold, and had convinced herself that what had been between them was done. She'd even begun to mourn for it.
Yet here he was, bringing her flowers and speaking softly in her ear.
'It's, ah, the story of the pooka and Paddy McNee that
Mr. Riley told me. These are lovely, Aidan.' Since she was far from ready for anyone to see her work, she tipped the top of the computer down, then sniffed the roses.
'I'm glad you like them as they're stolen goods and the garda may come by at any moment to arrest me.'
'I'll pay your bail.' She turned in the chair to look at him. He wasn't angry, she noted with puzzled relief. A man couldn't smile like that if he was angry. 'I'll go put them in water, and make you some tea.'
When she rose the pup turned over with a grumble and a groan and recurled himself.
'As a guard dog he's a pure failure,' Aidan commented.
'He's just a baby.' She took the flowers as they walked downstairs. 'And I've nothing to guard anyway.'
It was such a pleasure to slide back into routine, the friendliness and flirtation. Part of her wanted to bring up what happened the night before, but she tucked it away. Why mention something that put them at odds?
He was probably regretting that he'd asked her, and relieved that she'd said no. For some reason that line of thinking had that dark, nasty brew bubbling inside her again. She ordered herself to settle down and tucked the pink roses into a pale blue bottle.
As she did, she noticed the time and frowned. 'It's barely ten o'clock. Did you close the pub?'
'No, I took a couple hours. I'm entitled now and then. And I missed you,' he added, laying his hands on her waist. 'For you didn't come see me.'
'I was working.' / didn't think you'd want to see me. Weren't we angry with each other? she wondered even as he bent down to brush his lips over hers.
