Rescued: Mother-To-Be. Trish Wylie
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