“I’ll keep my promise.”
“Maybe you could come with us.” He paused.
“The girls would miss you. Besides, they could use the schooling, even in summer and I-”
“No.” The word came out more like a croak.
“No,” she said again, stronger this time.
“I couldn’t come. I… I’ll be getting married in June.” She hadn’t meant to blurt it out that way but she desperately needed her shield against the overpowering desires that flowed like hot lava through her body. She looked up at him then. His face was set like granite, unyielding and harsh.
“Who?” he demanded in a voice as hard as the look on his face. She whispered her response.
“Patrick.”
“I should have known.”
“He’s been so kind to us these past weeks. To me, especially.” Was she justifying it to Gavin or to herself?
“He’s a good man and he’ll make me happy.” It happened so quickly that she wasn’t aware of his rising, of his hands on her arms, of the way he pulled her up from the chair and against his chest. Just as suddenly his mouth was devouring hers, and she was helpless to prevent it. Unwilling to prevent it. She savored the taste of him the way a starving woman savors a succulent meal. His hands roamed over her back, then stroked up the length of her sides until his thumbs came to rest beneath the swell of her breasts. She gasped into his mouth but didn’t pull away, waiting for him to continue. She eagerly wanted more. Much more.
“Gavin,” she whispered, the sound pleading. And then he set her away from him. His tone was angry, almost hateful.
“He might make you happy, but I wonder if he’ll ever be able to make you feel like this.” Her eyes flew open in time to see him turn and stalk away.
Chapter Twenty
Patrick pulled the fur blanket over Rachel’s lap.
“Ready?” he asked. She nodded. He glanced behind them at the two girls snuggled beneath another lap robe in the back of the sleigh.
“Are the wee lasses ready?”
“Yes,” they cried in unison, both of them wreathed in excited grins.
“Good. Let’s go!” He picked up the reins and smacked them smartly against the rump of the dappled gray mare. As the sleigh slipped across the yard between house and barn, Patrick lifted his arm to wave at Gavin, who was standing near the barn door.
“He should have come with us,” he said loudly to Rachel.
But he was mightily glad that Gavin had refused the invitation. Patrick didn’t much care for the changes that had come over his friend since his wife died. Mourning was to be expected. Grief was a personal thing that had to be worked through. He hadn’t been particularly surprised by Gavin’s withdrawal from those around him, and he’d been willing to wait things out, give the man the time he needed to heal. But he’d seen something different this past week. Gavin was an angry man, his eyes cold and heartless, his words sharp, biting. And he seemed especially so with Rachel. It made Patrick want to knock some sense back into him. He glanced to his right, a warm happiness replacing his displeasure as he looked at Rachel. Her pale blond hair was hidden beneath a fur bonnet. The cold air had left splashes of pink on her cheekbones and the tip of her pert nose. Her blue eyes glittered as she squinted into the sun and wind. He couldn’t yet believe the lovely lass had consented to be his wife. He’d been in a dither ever since he’d left the Blake ranch on Christmas Day. He’d been over to see her every day this past week, and miracle of miracles, she hadn’t changed her mind on him yet. Today, New Year’s Day 1884, they were going to announce the news to his family. It had been hard to keep from telling his brothers this week, but he’d managed to keep that promise to Rachel, just as he hoped to keep all his promises to her for the rest of his life. And today he was going to show her the wedding ring—the prettiest damned ring she’d ever see. It had been in Patrick’s family for six generations and had come over from Ireland on his mother’s hand. As the oldest O’Donnell son, it was his honor to give it to his bride. He couldn’t wait for the day he’d be able to put it on Rachel’s finger. Patrick turned his attention back to the glistening white landscape before him. He didn’t want the horse leaving the beaten path and sinking into a drift. This was no day for accidents. He’d never thought he would find a girl like Rachel Harris who would consent to marry him. Not that he’d given much thought to matrimony until he’d met her. Faith and begorra! He’d thought Shane a blathering fool when he started spoonin’ over Pearl Johansen. But Rachel had changed his way of thinking fast enough. He’d seen how just a little slip of a thing could turn a man into a first-rate buffoon. Not that Patrick O’Donnell was running with blinders on. He didn’t have the fair maid’s heart-at least not completely. She’d never said she loved him. But he knew she was well enough fond of him. Most married folks were lucky to share that much between them, let alone be asking for the moon and the stars and love in the bargain. With time, she might grow to love him. He’d have to be satisfied with things as they were until then. Only he kept having this nagging feeling that all wasn’t as right as he’d want it to be. The months leading to June stretched impossibly long in his mind. They couldn’t be over too soon for his liking. Sure and if that wasn’t the truth. Rachel stared at the O’Donnell house as the sleigh sped toward it. This was the first time she’d been there since the day of Shane’s wedding, and it seemed even more impressive to her today. It sprawled against the backdrop of a tall mountain, its stone exterior a solemn gray against the pristine whiteness of winter. It resembled a castle more than the home of a cattle rancher, seeming very out of place here in the high country of Idaho. As if she’d voiced her thoughts aloud, Patrick said, “Killarney Hall.
“Tis fashioned after the O’Donnell estates in Ireland. I was born there, but my parents left while I was still a lad. My father never forgot his homeland, never stopped missing the emerald-green valleys or the cool, misty mornings-though in truth it was his own decision that brought us to America. When we settled here, he built this house, according to his memories of our old family home.”
“Where are your parents now, Patrick?”
“Buried, both of them, beneath the aspens.” He pointed up the slope of the hill.
“Three years ago now.”
“I’m sorry,” she said faintly. She cast a surreptitious glance to her left. She realized with a jolt that she knew surprisingly little about Patrick. They’d spent hours together—entire days together—but he had never talked much about himself. it’s because I’ve never asked, she thought, and was instantly ashamed. How could she have been so selfish, so callous toward a man who’d treated her with such kindness? She truly wasn’t any better than Gavin thought her. Gavin. She closed her eyes as the onslaught of feelings slammed into her. It was always the same. Ever since that morning when he’d branded her with his touch, tasted her with his lips. She couldn’t rid herself of the memories or the sensations he’d stirred. It was bad enough that those feelings raged within her when she was engaged to another man—worse still because Gavin had made it so clear what he thought of her. It was clear in his eyes when he chanced to look at her, clear in his voice when he was forced to speak to her. He detested her, despised her, hated her. And yet, to her shame, she knew she would find it impossible to resist him should he take her once again into his arms.
“Rachel? Have you heard a word I’ve said, lass?”
“What?” She looked at Patrick, startled.
“Oh, I’m ……. I was daydreaming. I didn’t hear what you said.”
“I said ‘tis time we broke the news to the O’Donnells. Are you ready?” She swallowed the rising dread.
“Yes, Patrick. I’m ready.” There was no going back now. She had to
be certain there was never any going back.