It’s mid-morning when Amelia surfaces, looking groggier than I feel when she enters the kitchen.
“You cleared up?” Her eyes skim the work surfaces and the floor before drifting towards the conservatory. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
Color rises to her cheeks making her look the way she does when she’s flushed from our lovemaking. “You looked too peaceful. And besides, you worked hard yesterday. This was the least I could do.”
Her eyes meet and lock onto mine. “You could’ve stayed with me.”
“I…”
…didn’t think she’d want me after pushing her away for so long.
…want so much more than stolen wee hours when the house is sleeping.
“…wanted to give you some space.” I close the distance between us. “Thank you, Amelia. I wouldn’t have gotten through the night without you.”
She moves into my arms, seamlessly, effortlessly, as if they were made for her. “You would have, but I didn’t want you to do it alone.”
“I…” My God, she’s so perfect, my entire body aches for her whenever we’re this close. Telling her that I appreciate what she did sounds so fucking lame. So instead, I say, “Sit down. Breakfast first, then we have the rest of the day to relax.”
I grill sausages, bacon, black pudding, which Amelia refuses to taste, fried eggs, and hash browns mopped up with thick hunks of homemade bread. I load the dishwasher while Amelia cleans the table and the work surfaces. We look and feel like a couple,but I’m afraid to get ahead of myself. It’s too soon. But more importantly, I don’t want her pity because of Ruairi.
After, we go down to the stables where I finally introduce her to the horses. She nuzzles their faces, and they allow her to hug them, accepting food from her hand as if she has always been a part of this family.
Amelia has never ridden before, so I saddle my chestnut stallion, Sheriff, and help her up to sit behind me.
“Ready?” I peer over my shoulder at her bright eyes and her tentative smile and try to ignore her breasts crushed against my back.
“Ready.”
We don’t get above a trot. Sheriff senses her lack of confidence and takes it easy, finding his own way around the grounds and heading towards the lake, which is my favorite place to come and think when I need tranquility.
I help Amelia to dismount, spread my jacket on the cold grassy bank, and sit beside her. The sky is clear, the unexpectedly bright blue of cold fall days, fiery golden leaves falling all around us and settling on the calm surface of the lake.
“This is my favorite time of year,” we both say at the same time.
There’s an awkwardness between us that wasn’t there before. It’s my fault. I kept her at arm’s length instead of confiding in her, and I’ve got some work to do to break through this invisible barrier. I already know that I’ll do whatever it takes.
Especially with Orla’s gentle admission earlier that she knew we spent the night together in the living room. It doesn’t matter what she believes happened between us; what’s important is thatshe didn’t call me a fucking idiot for falling for a woman young enough to be my daughter.
Amelia smiles and leans against me, resting her chin on my shoulder. “Tell me about Ruairi.”
The lump in my throat swells, and I try to swallow it. This will get easier in time, but for now, I must hold onto it until the Murrays have paid for what they did.
“He was the bonniest, brightest lad. They say that the first-born child takes after their father, and he did. Everyone could see it. But he was smarter and braver than I ever was.”
I look at Amelia, and she is clinging to every word that I’m saying. She doesn’t speak, just waits for me to continue.
“He had such big plans. Sometimes, I thought that Ireland was too small for him. That it was wrong to keep him here.”
“I’m sure that wasn’t true.”
I smile. “I wish you’d gotten to meet him, Amelia. You’d have loved him.”
She sits back, picks up a fallen leaf from the grass, and smooths it out across her raised knee with her fingertips. “I?—”
“When he walked into a room, he lit it up with his smile. He had such charm. Orla always said that he could charm the hind legs off a donkey.”
Guilt crashes through me, making it hard to breathe. He would still be alive if I’d handled the alliance myself, and this is something that I’ll have to live with for the rest of my days. Perhaps it’s time to tell Amelia the truth about what we do.
