Trish Wylie - Rescued - Mother-To-Be

‘I talk to people every day. It comes with the job.’

‘And when’s the last time you talked to someone about something that wasn’t work-related?’

Good question.

She stepped towards the door, waiting for him to move the wheelbarrow as she absentmindedly stroked the horse’s neck. And she spoke again, her voice lower. ‘Yeah, that’s what I thought.’

The barrow stayed still, keeping her prisoner inside the stable as Eamonn studied her intently. Then he shook his head. ‘Don’t you ever just think about things inside your head sometimes, without saying them out loud?’

Colleen went silent, something crossing over her face—something fleeting. But it had been there. Then as quickly as it had arrived it was gone, and she shrugged her shoulders. ‘If I always say what I think then people don’t have to try and read between the lines. There’s less of a problem with interpretation. And that way mistakes are less likely to get made.’

Somehow Eamonn just knew there was a story behind that. But even as he phrased the question in his head she was pointing at the wheelbarrow. ‘I thought you were helping?’

And the moment to ask her was gone as he moved the barricade. Maybe just because it was easier to let it go, not because he didn’t want to know. He did. He was curious about her.

But curiosity wasn’t really on the agenda. He wouldn’t be there long enough, and it wouldn’t matter when he left. Because he had no intention of ever coming back. There was nothing in Ireland that could hold him.

Though if Colleen hadn’t been pregnant he supposed he might have stayed to play a while, to find out what was beneath her independent, capable façade. He was only human, after all. And he did like a challenge.

Maybe it was just as well she was pregnant. It put her out of reach. Kept her safe. Made things less complicated than they already were.

But the fact that he already liked what he had seen so far meant he would take the time to ease her into his plans. Out of respect, if nothing else.

He just needed to get some sleep first. So he was less distracted by her.

COLLEEN didn’t sleep so well.

She could have blamed the baby entirely, but it seemed a tad unfair to be giving out to him or her before they even arrived. Her insomnia had as much to do with spending time around Eamonn as it did with a restless unborn baby.

Though the baby didn’t help.

And the dreams her furtive imagination had conjured in the brief moments of sleep she had grabbed didn’t help either. Her body was filled up with baby, for goodness’ sake! It shouldn’t feel the need to dream about the very act that had got it that way—even if in her dreams the players had been a tad different…

As she walked across the yard early the next morning she was smoothing her hand over her swollen stomach, trying hard to get what she thought was a bottom moved back into a more comfortable position, while she tried to focus her mind away from her dreams.

Babies were supposed to know how to get out, weren’t they? If hers was unfortunate enough to have inherited his or her mother’s sense of direction then it could well be pushing at her belly button so hard for the wrong reason. Not just because space was getting limited.

It was very uncomfortable. Almost painful.

But not anywhere near as painful as rounding the corner and finding Eamonn talking to the stable girls. They were giggling as she caught sight of them; one even had her hip tilted towards his tall frame. And for Colleen it was like a knife to the heart.

How many times had she walked around a corner or into a room or up to the school bus and found a girl looking at him like that? The answer was, quite honestly, dozens. And every single time it had killed her. Because he had smiled at them like he’d never smiled at her—laughed with them in a way he had never laughed with her. So that every single time she’d caught him flirting with them it had made her feel like a lesser person—because he didn’t try to flirt with her. But this time it wasn’t just a case of echoes of the jealousy she’d felt then, she reasoned, it had much more to do with a recent humiliation.

It wasn’t Eamonn’s fault, or the fault of the yard girls she knew so well. They weren’t to blame for the sins of others. And Colleen scowled at her momentary weakness.

One of the girls caught sight of her scowling face and nudged the other as Eamonn turned in her direction. As the girls scampered off to work he moved towards her, and Colleen straightened her spine, pinning a smile in place.

It wasn’t as if she had any reason to be jealous or angry. Not this time anyway.

‘Morning.’

His voice was as soft as the smile he aimed her way, and she wished she had her old figure back so she could tilt her hip towards him as she spoke. For years after he’d left she had dreamed about him coming home to get her. Like some sort of a knight on a white charger.

Which had been a bit far-fetched, considering his lack of love for all things equine.

But in her fantasy she had been beautiful, ravishing, positively irresistible. Not blotchy, the size of a barn door, with swollen ankles.

Murphy’s Law. She smiled at the irony.

‘You look tired.’

Her smile faded. ‘Flatterer.’

‘I was just talking to the girls about them trying to do a bit more before they leave at night.’

Colleen blinked in confusion. ‘A bit more? A bit more how, exactly?’

Eamonn shrugged. ‘Just until your baby is here.’

The words stilled the hand on her stomach and she gaped at him. ‘Why would you do that?’

‘Why do you think?’

The blinking and gaping continued. Oh, this wasn’t for real. Eamonn Murphy was looking out for her now? Taking her welfare on as his concern? Why would he do that? Was she so pathetic a figure?

‘I’ve told you already, I’m not an invalid. And me and the girls have done just fine so far. I don’t need you organising things for me.’

He 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.