It didn’t take Patrick long to hustle Rachel and the two girls into the warmth of the cavernous entry hall. A servant, dressed in a black suit, white shirt and collar, appeared instantly to take their wraps.
“The family is waiting for you in the salon, sir.”
“Thank you, Crandal. Do you think Cook might be able to find a piece of cake or two for the wee lasses?” Sabrina’s and Petula’s eyes immediately sparked with enthusiasm.
“I think so, sir,” Crandal replied in the same obsequious tone.
“Come along, young ladies. The kitchen is this way.”
“May we, Miss Harris?” Sabrina asked. Rachel was relieved that the girls would be elsewhere when Pairick made the announcement of their marriage plans. She knew she would have to tell Sabrina and Petula eventually, but she wasn’t ready to do so yet. She didn’t know why she wanted to wait, just that she wanted to. She tenderly smoothed back Sabrina’s unruly hair.
“It will spoil your lunch, Brina.”
“It won’t hurt them this once,” Patrick chided. Sabrina’s gaze was hopeful.
“Please, Miss Harris.” She felt rather helpless against such powers of persuasion. And there’d been little enough happiness for the children lately. She supposed Patrick was right. It wouldn’t hurt them this once.
“Well, if you promise to mind your manners. You too, Pet.”
“We will,” they promised in unison. Patrick offered her the crook of his arm. ““Tis time we went inside, Rachel.” She forced a smile onto her lips.
“I’m ready,” she said, her voice tremulous. There wasn’t a one of the O’Donnell brothers that could have tipped the scales at less than two hundred pounds, or measured under six-foot-two. They all had the O’Donnell red hair, although the shades varied slightly, from Patrick’s carrot red to Trevor’s rich auburn. They had the same open, friendly faces and the same laughing eyes, Shane’s and Jamie’s the same green as their elder brother, Trevor’s a golden-flecked hazel. It was a bit daunting, walking into the brothers’ midst. They greeted her with grand enthusiasm, their voices booming and boisterous. They crowded close, paying Rachel outrageous compliments and saying it was about time Patrick brought her back to Killarney Hall. It was Pearl, Shane’s bride of a little more than six weeks, who relieved some of her apprehension.
“Get back, you big ox,” she said sternly, pushing on both Shane’s and Jamie’s shoulders at the same time.
“Can’t you see she’s about to suffocate?” She took Rachel’s arm and pulled her away from Patrick and the others.
“You can’t imagine how wonderful it will be to have an afternoon of conversation with another woman.
And don’t mind the lot of them. They can be overwhelming at times, but they’re basically harmless.” Rachel glanced over her shoulder. The brothers were all wearing satisfied grins, and she thought they’d probably already guessed at the reason for her visit.
“You must come to see us more often, Miss Harris,” Pearl continued.
“Patrick can come for you in the sleigh whenever you’d like.”
“Thank you. I ..” Patrick interrupted her.
“Come summer, you’ll be able to see Rachel whenever you want. She’s going to be living at Killarney Hall … as my wife.”
“I knew it!” Jamie shouted.
“Sure if I didn’t see it coming!” Shane slapped his older brother on the back.
“Congratulations, Paddy.” Trevor gripped Patrick by the upper arms and gave him a shake.
“We’d given up hope you’d find the courage before you were too old, brother.” Pearl gave Rachel an impetuous hug.
“I’m so glad. Patrick’s a lucky man, Miss Harris.”
“Please. It’s Rachel.” She laughed nervously. And then the brothers surrounded her. She received a bear-like hug from each of them, followed by a kiss on each cheek, as she was profusely welcomed into the O’Donnell clan. Finally, she was claimed once again by Patrick. He led her to a sofa, then sat beside her, his arm around her shoulders. As the brothers and Pearl quickly took nearby seats, he regaled them with stories of his courtship of the lovely Rachel Harris, much of it dramatically embellished. The room was filled with laughter as the minutes ticked away on the mantel clock. Rachel felt like a terrible fraud. If Patrick loved her, the whole clan would love her. That was apparently the way it was in the O’Donnell family. But she didn’t deserve it. They believed she was in love with their brother, that she was marrying him for all the right and proper reasons, that she would make him happy. She wished she did love him. It would make things so much easier. Could it happen? Could she grow to love him? Could she make him happy? She turned her head to look up at him and prayed she would be able to do so. If not, it would be one more sin, one more lump of burning coal upon her head that she would have to live with. Crandal’s imperious voice interrupted her musings.
“Cook reports that dinner is ready, sir. Shall I inform her you are adjourning to the dining hall?”
“Yes, Crandal. Do so at once.” Patrick turned a solemn look toward Rachel. ““Tis the devil to pay if the O’Donnells aren’t ready when the food is. Cook is a ferocious, unforgiving woman who rules that corner of the house with a vengeance. You’ll meet her later.” She met his sober gaze with one of her own.
“I’m not sure I want to,” she answered, half-serious, half-jesting.
The brothers burst into laughter.
“Sure you’ve got yourself a fine woman, Paddy,” Shane said, once again slapping his brother on the back.
“A regular O’Donnell,” Jamie added. Patrick beamed down at Rachel with pleasure as they all rose and left the salon.
Chapter Twenty-One
And this will be our bedroom, once you’re Mrs. Patrick O’Donnell.” Patrick shoved open the door, revealing the massive chamber with its large four-poster bed, gleaming wood floors, and cherrywood bureaus. Exotic Persian rugs were scattered around the room. Upholstered chairs sat in a cozy semi-circle before the fireplace. Heavy draperies framed
the large windows. Rachel felt a cold lump growing in her belly as she stepped into the room.
“It’s beautiful, Patrick,” she said softly.
“Not nearly as beautiful as you.” He closed the door behind him. She knew she would feel his hands on her arms any moment, that he would turn her toward him, that he intended to kiss her. There was no avoiding it this time. Except for a quick kiss on the mouth the night she’d accepted his proposal, she’d managed to forestall anything more than a few pecks on the cheek, always having the excuse that the children were nearby. And she’d managed to keep them nearby throughout his courtship. But they weren’t there now.
“Rachel.” His hands did touch her arms. He did turn her toward him. And he did intend to kiss her. She closed her eyes and waited. Patrick pulled her closer into his embrace, drawing her up as his mouth lowered. He held her tenderly, lovingly. His lips were warm upon hers. She wasn’t revolted by his kisses. That was her first thought. The second was that she didn’t feel much of anything else either. She knew then that she’d hoped to feel all those wonderful, terrible things that she’d felt when Gavin kissed her. A sudden heat spread through her at the thought of him. She longed for his kisses, craved his hands upon her body. These weren’t the right lips, weren’t the right hands. She broke away from Patrick, feeling a flush rise to her lace. Patrick’s gaze changed from restrained passion to amusement.
“There’s no need for embarrassment. We’re to be wed.”
“I… I’m just not ready for… for this.” she stammered.
“Aye, I can see I’ll have to go slowly. I forget what an innocent you are. You needn’t fear me, Rachel.”
“I’m not afraid of you, Patrick. Truly I’m not. It’s just that .. .” It’s just that you’re the wrong man.
“It’s just ..”
“You’ve no need to explain to me. You’ll get over your shyness with time. I’m a patient man. I’ll wait.” Rachel nodded as he put his arm around her shoulders and drew her toward the bedroom door. Someday, she knew, he would expect far more than kisses from her in this room. What was she going to do then? Joker rose from the rug by the fireplace and trotted toward the door. He whined, then returned to sit by Gavin’s chair, flopping his big head into his master’s lap.