Wedding at King’s Convenience (7 page)

“I’ll have a talk with Joan when I get back. Make it clear that I want to see all of my messages, not just the few she decides are worth my time.” It infuriated him
that Maura had been trying to get hold of him for months unsuccessfully. Still in his own defense, he said, “A lot of people call me, Maura.”

“Women, I suppose,” she said with a sneer. Yes, women, he thought, though there hadn’t been any since he’d last been here. Hell, he hadn’t been able to look at another woman without seeing dark blue eyes and a wide, luscious mouth. His thoughts had been with Maura even when he hadn’t wanted it that way.

“I saw a picture of you in one of those celebrity magazines a month or so back. You looked very handsome in your splendid tuxedo with an empty-headed blond on your arm. Yes, you were very busy.”

He enjoyed the scorn in her voice. “Jealous?”

She snorted. “Indeed not. Just observant.”

That might be what she was telling herself, but he was glad to know she’d been keeping tabs on him anyway. “That was the lead actress in our latest movie. I escorted her to the premiere.”

“Aye, she looked the ‘escort’ type.”

He laughed shortly. “It’s my job, Maura.”

“And you do it so well,” she told him, dropping into a chair that looked worn and comfortable.

In fact, the whole house looked cozy, he thought, giving the room a quick going over. It had stood there for centuries and the interior of the farmhouse had the softly shabby look that spoke not of neglect, but comfort. Familiarity.

He stood over her. “You’re taking shots at me. I get that. My point, though, was that a lot of people leave messages for me. It’s not that surprising that yours got lost or misdirected or—” He threw his hands up in frustration.

“And how many of those messages were from women telling you they’re pregnant?” She glared up at him with sparks flashing in her eyes. “Because if there’s a line of us, you can tell me now, Jefferson. I won’t be part of your herd. And my child won’t be one of dozens of your bastards.”

“Stop it.” He leaned down, planting both hands on the arms of the chair, caging her neatly. The scent of her drifted to him and he inhaled it deeply. God, he’d missed her more than he’d wanted to admit, even to himself. Now, her eyes were wild with rage, but there was hurt there, too, and that bothered him.

“There’s no one else. I don’t have any other children. I didn’t know about your pregnancy. If I had, I would have been here. Would have talked to you. Done—”

“What?” she asked, a little less battle-ready now. “What would you have done?”

“I don’t know. Something.”

She looked up into his eyes for a long second or two, then finally nodded. “I believe you. You didn’t get the messages. You didn’t know.”

“Thanks for that, anyway.” He pushed up and off the chair and moved away from her.

He was going to be a father. A hard thing for a man to consider. To accept. There was anticipation inside him, even excitement. But there was also uncertainty. He had to make plans.
They
had to make plans. Hell, he didn’t even know where to start.

“Now I know how Justice felt,” he mumbled.

“Justice?”

“My brother. The one on the ranch.” He glanced at
her and gave her a wry smile. “His wife, Maggie, didn’t tell him they’d had a son together until Jonas was six months old.”

“Why not?”

“Because she thought Justice wouldn’t believe her.” To stop her from asking why again, he said, “It’s a long story. The point is, at the time, I thought Justice overreacted to what Maggie had done. He was furious with her and I thought he should just get over it, deal with the new reality. But now I get it.”

“Is that right? So now you’re furious, are you? Well, join the club.”

“No.” He laughed out loud, enjoying her mercurial nature. Had there ever been another woman like her? Smiling one minute and fierce the next. She was a tangled web of emotions that a man had to be crazy to want to explore. Well, sign him up to be committed. “I’m not furious. Just…wondering where the hell we go from here, that’s all.”

“Well then, when you’re finished doing your wondering, you know where to find me, don’t you?” She stood up out of the chair and headed for the bank of windows overlooking the front yard.

“Maura, I’m not leaving until we settle this.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“Too bad.” She could push him away all she liked, he was going nowhere until he was good and ready. And that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. “I’m staying until we figure this out.”

“There’s nothing
to
figure out.” She looked at him briefly over her shoulder before turning her face back
to the window and the view beyond. “I’m pregnant. You’re not. Go home.”

“No.”

She lifted one hand and laid her palm on the rain-streaked pane. “Tell your movie people they’ll have no more trouble from me or the village. I’ll see to it.”

“Thanks. That takes care of one problem.”

She stiffened. “I’m not a problem, and neither is my child.”

“I didn’t say that, either.” God, she was a minefield and he was walking through it blindfolded.

“You might as well have. It’s in your mind. Your heart.”

“So you read minds now, too?”

“Yours is easy enough,” she told him.

He caught her reflection in the glass and hated that her eyes were shining with unshed tears. He realized he’d never seen Maura cry and he damned well didn’t care for the fact that he was behind those tears now.

“Go away,” she said softly. “Please.”

Jefferson heard the click of nails on wood, so wasn’t surprised when her huge black dog entered the room and walked toward her. Automatically, she dropped one hand to the dog’s head and stroked her fingers through its fur. The two of them looked like a painting together.

At the moment, Jefferson thought, there was no place for him there. Maura had drawn a line to close him out. Maybe he couldn’t blame her.

That didn’t mean he was going to let this go, though, and she’d better get used to that idea real fast. But for now, he’d leave, gather his forces and come back when he had things settled in his mind. He knew what needed
to be done. From the moment he first heard about the baby, he’d known.

But he needed time to work out the details.

Then he’d be back and Maura Donohue would see that a King never walked away from his responsibilities.

With that thought in mind, he turned to leave, as she’d asked him to. Before he walked out of the room, though, he promised, “This isn’t over, Maura.”

A
few hours later, Cara asked, “Then what did he do?”

“He left.” Maura lifted a week-old lamb, cradled it against her chest, then held a baby bottle out for it. Instantly, the tiny, black-and-white creature latched on to the rubber nipple and began tugging at it. Maura smiled even as she tried to ignore her sister’s interrogation.

Naturally, Cara wouldn’t leave the thing alone even when Maura insisted she didn’t want to speak about it. The only thing she could do now was hope to finish the conversation as quickly as possible.

“He just left? He didn’t propose?”

Maura laughed at that notion, more to cover up her own disappointment than anything else. Until that very afternoon, she’d had dreams. Fantasies you might say,
during the weeks when she was trying so futilely to get hold of the Great One himself. She’d imagined him going down on bended knee, here in this very barn. She’d pictured him proposing and, in her frustration with his ignoring her or so she’d thought, she’d pictured herself telling him no. After all, he’d been ignoring her for months, so she’d imagined the stunned surprise on his face as she told him what he could do with his belated proposal.

Then he’d shattered that lovely dream by not even bothering to give her a duty proposal. She frowned to herself and realized just how hard it was to love a man who had no idea how she felt.

“No,” she said tightly. “He didn’t propose and it’s not likely to happen anytime soon.”

“Why ever not?” Cara wanted to know. “He’s given you a baby, the least he can do is make you a wife.”

Maura chuckled in spite of the situation. “You know, for someone who claims to be a very modern woman of the world, you sounded remarkably like an old grandmother just then.”

Cara frowned. “Being modern is one thing. Watching my sister be a single mother is another altogether. Besides, Maura, you love him.”

Maura’s gaze snapped to her sister, who was looking tired and near half-asleep. And why shouldn’t she? Cara was balancing a waitressing job in Westport while coming back to the farm nearly every day to film her small role in Jefferson’s movie. Her sister was smart, talented and far too knowing about some things.

“I’ll thank you to keep that piece of news to yourself,”
Maura told her. “Besides, I’ll not have his pity and that’s all it would be if he pretended to love me now. Or worse yet, if he were appalled at the notion. So mind your tongue, Cara.”

Clearly insulted, Cara drew her head back as if she’d been slapped. “As if you need tell me. I’m your sister, aren’t I? Would I side with a Yank against my own blood?”

Mollified a bit, Maura nodded and put her attention back to the task at hand. She could learn to forget him, she told herself. She would content herself in the future with her farm and her child and one day, the man she loved would be no more than a fond memory she indulged in on lonely nights. For now though, Jefferson had work and so did she. And hers, she thought, was more pressing than contracts or actors or the placement of a camera.

She had a total of six lambs so far this season who needed to be hand-fed. There were two pens holding the little ones, who snuggled together to sleep in a pile beneath heat lamps that kept the spring chill away. A few had been abandoned by their mothers for whatever reason a sheep might deem reasonable. Happened every year, a ewe would give birth and simply stroll away from the lamb, ignoring its bleating calls.

The others were simply too small to be left alone with their mothers, so the ewes were penned nearby so the lambs could nurse as well as get extra nutrition from a baby bottle. The tiny, warm bodies were a constant wonder to Maura. They were so small, so helpless when new that it was difficult to remain detached, as she must. Since most of the lambs would be sold off and—

“You should be the one to tell him at any rate,” Cara said and reached for one of the lambs. Grabbing up an extra bottle, she cuddled the pure white baby and smiled at the hungry sounds it made as it fed.

Her sister might have her sights set on acting, but Cara was born and bred a farm girl and knew what needed doing without being told. And for a few minutes, the two sisters enjoyed the stillness. Outside, the storm had passed, leaving only the sound of water dripping from the roof edges and the ever-present wind rattling the shingles.

“He’s staying in one of the trailers, you know.”

“What?” Startled, Maura looked her sister in the eye.

“I said, Jefferson is staying in one of the trailers.”

Maura threw a look at the closed barn doors as if she could see through them to the yard outside. “You mean now? He’s living out there? In the street?”

“In one of the trailers, yes.” Cara smiled and stroked the lamb as she fed it. “Everyone else left hours ago, headed off to the B & B and some into Westport. But Jefferson is staying here. Said he wanted to be close. Why’s that, do you think?”

She didn’t know. And couldn’t guess. Oh, she didn’t like that. She’d hoped he’d be off to the city and give her some breathing room. How was she supposed to relax into her routine if she knew he was less than a hundred feet from her own front door? Her insides were fluttering and she knew it wasn’t the baby moving as that hadn’t happened yet. No, it was her child’s father setting off swarms of butterflies in the pit of her belly.

“He can’t stay there.”

“Of course he can.” Cara tipped her head to one side and studied her older sister. “They’re his trailers, after all. And you did give him leave to park them there.”

“Not to
live
in!”

Cara laughed. “Look at you. Just knowing he’s close by has put color in your cheeks and a shine in your eyes.”

“That’s just anger is all.”

“It’s not, no,” her sister said. “Honestly, Maura, must you be so stubborn at all times? You’re flushed over him and you say you don’t want him? You’re having his baby, for goodness’ sake. Why shouldn’t you be married to the man?”

“She will be.”

Both women jolted at the sound of the deep voice. They turned as one and stared at Jefferson as he stepped into the warm barn and closed the door behind him. He wore black jeans, a dark red pullover sweatshirt and heavy black boots that were as scuffed as the floor of the barn. His hair was windblown across his forehead and his mouth was a firm, grim line. The overhead lights were harsh and bright and cast unforgiving shadows over his face until he looked like some pirate with danger on his mind.

Maura’s heart did a slow roll in her chest and a deep, throbbing ache set up shop low in her body. Would he always have this kind of effect on her?

“She will be what?” Cara asked.

“I said, your sister will be marrying me.” Jefferson walked toward them, sidling past idle machinery and stacks of baled hay on one side of the barn. As he neared
the closed-off area, one of the ewes scuttled nervously in her pen. He looked at all of the animals crowded together, then shifted his gaze back to Maura. “As soon as we can manage it.”

Amazing how quickly fire could turn to ice. Here then was her “proposal.” A demand from a man who clearly expected her to jump through hoops when ordered to.

“No, I’m not,” Maura told him, wishing the barn were bigger. Wishing she were back in the house behind locked doors. Wishing Jefferson had never returned to Ireland. What a sorry mess.

If he thought
that
was a proposal, he was sorely lacking. Step into her barn and issue commands as though he actually
were
a king. Was he so full of himself that he expected her to fall in line with whatever he wanted? Did he really think her such an easy woman as all that?

It didn’t matter, really, Maura told herself. His decisions would have no impact on her. And though her heart was galloping in her chest, she wouldn’t be saying yes. She wouldn’t have a man who didn’t love her and she knew bloody well Jefferson King was not in love.

“Argue if it makes you feel better.” Jefferson looked down at her, their eyes locked and she read pure determination in those pale blue depths. For all the good it would do him.

“And you make all the decisions you like,” Maura countered briskly. “It appears you enjoy doing it no matter that nothing will come of it.”

“It’s all arranged.” He sniffed at the mingled scents of hay and wet sheep. “Or it will be soon. My assistant’s
taking care of the details, but with the time difference, it’ll probably take a couple of days.”

“What exactly,” Cara asked, when it became clear Maura had no intention of asking the question herself, “is it that your assistant is so busily arranging?”

“A marriage license, a venue.” His gaze fixed on Maura. “I told Joan I thought you’d prefer to be married in the village church, but we can change that if you’d rather. Westport maybe? Dublin? Hell, we can wait and get married in Hollywood if you want.”

“Hollywood?” Cara asked, saying the word a bit wistfully.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Jefferson said. “As long as we get married, I don’t care where we do it.”

“How very thoughtful,” Maura managed to choke out.

“It’s not thoughtful,” he countered. “It’s expedient.”

“And quite romantic,” Maura sniped. “Why, my heart’s just weeping with the joy of it all.”

“This isn’t about romance,” he said.

“That’d be plain to a blind man.”

“It’s about what’s right.”

“Oh, and I suppose you’re the one to be deciding what right is?”

“Someone has to,” he said with a barely restrained snarl.

“Well then,” Cara announced, effectively interrupting the argument, “I can see you two have a lot to talk about, so I’ll be going, shall I?”

Maura jolted. She didn’t want to be alone with Jefferson. Not now. Not yet. “Don’t you dare leave this barn, Cara…”

Giving her a wink, her sister stood up, handed the lamb and its bottle to Jefferson and announced, “I wish you luck in your dealings with my sister. She can be a bit hardheaded, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“So much for family loyalty,” Maura murmured.

Cara ignored her and spoke only to Jefferson. “Mind though, make her cry and I’ll make your life a living misery.”

“Fair warning,” Jefferson said with a nod as he settled the lamb more comfortably against him.

“Good.”

“Cara, blast you for a traitor, don’t you leave me here with him—”

“I’ll take myself off back to Westport,” Cara said, lifting her voice to carry over Maura’s. “I’ll stay with Mary Dooley again since I’ve an early shift at the café tomorrow anyway. You two have a good night,” she added, then looked at Jefferson. “Mind the lamb drinks the whole bottle now.”

She was gone a moment later and the only sounds in the barn were those made by the restive sheep.

“I’ve never fed a lamb before,” Jefferson said, taking a seat on an upturned crate. He looked down at the small animal in his arms and added, “I’ve hand-fed calves though. Shouldn’t be too different, though if you tell Justice I said that, I’ll deny it.”

Maura swallowed hard, then realized her lamb was through feeding. She set him down in the pen, reached for the next one and began the process over again. They were too intimate here. Too crowded together in too small a space. She couldn’t draw a breath without taking
in the scent of him. It was fogging her mind, but not so much that she’d give way to a bully trying to force his decisions on her.

“There’s no reason for you to stay,” she said.

“I’m helping,” he told her.

“I don’t need your help just as I don’t need to be told I’m getting married.”

“Apparently,” he said, “you do.”

“I won’t marry you.”

“Why the hell not?” He lifted his eyes from the lamb, who was feeding as if it were the last bit of milk it might ever see. “It’s the right thing to do and you know it. You’re pregnant with my child. In my family, kids have parents who are married. Besides, my child is going to carry my name.”

“So this is nothing to do with me,” Maura argued. “It’s all what you think should be done. Your rights. Your responsibility. Your child. Well go and have
your
marriage. Just don’t expect me to participate.”

“If you’ll quit being so damn stubborn about this, you could think rationally. For the sake of the baby we made, we have to get married. Our kid deserves two parents.”

“And he’ll have them.”

“He?” Jefferson asked.

She sighed. “No, I don’t know what sex the baby is and don’t want to know.”

“Good,” he said with a nod. “I like the surprise, too.”

A part of her melted at that until she reminded herself that a man who cared for his child wouldn’t necessarily care for the child’s mother. This was all wrong. All
of it. It broke her heart, but damned if she’d sentence either of them to a life without love.

“Do you really think I’ll marry you because you think you owe me your protection?” She shook her head and scoffed at the notion. “I’m a grown woman. And this isn’t the nineteenth century, Jefferson. Even in Ireland a woman alone can raise her child in peace. And the name Donohue will suit
my
child nicely.”

“Our
child,” he corrected, “and there’s no reason for you to be alone. I accept my responsibilities, Maura.”

“Well, don’t I feel warm and treasured. A responsibility. Surely that’s a word every woman longs to hear from a man.”

“Not five hours ago, you were pissed at me because I
wasn’t
taking responsibility. Now I am.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“That’s a shame.”

The ewes scuttled uneasily in their pens again as if picking up on the tension in the air.

“And,” he continued, “once we’re married, I’ll take you back to Los Angeles. Buy you a big house in Beverly Hills.”

That gave her a start. For all her idle dreams of proposals, she’d never once considered leaving the home she loved. But of course he wouldn’t want to stay here. He had a life and a business in the States. She suddenly felt bereft for a dream that hadn’t had a chance to come true in the first place. “I’ve a home right here.”

“You can sell the farm,” he said offhandedly. “You won’t have to work so hard anymore. You can sleep in instead of running out in all weather taking care of
sheep. You can have a life of luxury. Do whatever you want to do. Travel. Shop.”