"You're going in then."
"Yes. I have some inventory to do and the shipment finally arrived from Dublin. There's also the apartment building on Moss Street that needs my attention." Moving towards her, he tipped her chin up. "Get some rest. I love you."
With that, he was gone, closing the door behind him. Going into their bedroom, she headed for her office and sat behind the desk, her thoughts troubled.
She had sensed when it was too late that he had been about to mention marriage again and had headed him off. She hurt him with her words and was sorry for it. But he knew what the deal was from the beginning.
She wasn't marriage material. She stared at the papers scattered across her desk, unable to focus.
The silence of the room pressed in on her, amplifying the lingering tension from their conversation. She wished she could take back what she'd said or at least find the right words to bridge the growing distance between them. But old fears heldher back, memories of promises broken and hopes dashed making it hard to trust the comfort she felt with him.
Stacking the research material, her assistant had sent to her, she opened her laptop and stared blindly at the screen. Her heart wasn't in the writing. Her thoughts were too muddled.
She looked up at the knock on the door, forcing a smile as the housekeeper bustled in with a tray.
"You're supposed to be in bed."
"I'm tired of lying down and I know you're just going to go right in and report to Oscar that I'm sitting at my desk. If you notice, that's all I'm doing. Sitting." Her voice was mild, expression challenging.
"He's already left and without eating anything." Iris Kelly was a thin whip of a woman who had been with the family since before Oscar was born and was very loyal to him.
She was only now beginning to thaw towards the woman who had stolen her boy's heart. And only because she had seen where Kiara was committed to him. But he was troubled and so was she.
They had gone for a walk, looking happy and content, but had come back with unhappiness on their faces. She had never married and her only regret was never having a child of her own but considered Oscar hers.
She would do anything for him, including embracing the sometimes rude and ornery woman carrying his babies.
"What do we have here?" Kiara was determined not to show that news of his leaving had unsettled her.
"Some broth and soda bread. You need to nourish those babies you're carrying. It's mostly vegetables." Iris removed the covering with a flourish.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome." The woman fussed with the snowy white napkins and utensils. There was even a small vase of fresh daisies and daffodils on the tray. "I expect to see everything scraped clean when I get back to collect the tray."
"Yes ma'am." Kiara managed a genuine smile that had Iris beaming.
"I'll leave you alone to eat." She turned at the doorway. "That boy has never loved another woman the way he loves you. You're his first and because of it, he might appear overprotective at times."
"I understand." She assured the housekeeper. "And I love him too."
With a satisfied nod, she slipped out and closed the door behind her. It didn't surprise Kiara to find herself hungry enough to clean the bowl.
The soup was delicious, packed with vegetables and the bread was warm and fragrant. She had two slices. Smiling to herself, she figured that she had done Iris's cooking proud.
But now she was too full. Pushing from the desk, she wandered into the large mostly masculine bedroom.
Oscar had insisted that she made changes or they could use one of the other suites. There were eight bedrooms in all, each decorated with individual styles. His was an inheritance from his parents.
Several generations of O'Sullivan had occupied the room. The floor was solid oak, shone to a dull patina and with loving care. The fireplace took up one entire section of the room.
The bed was on a raised dais one could easily get lost in. Beautifully woven Indian rugs were strewn on the floor, and the closet could hold half of her cottage.
Walking to the window, she curled up on the window seat with the plump pillows and just gazed over the rolling hills. She had expressed the desire for one, just voiced her opinion of having a window seat.
The next time she came over, one had been built. It had taken her breath away and left her feeling scared. So scared that she had started an argument, accusing him of trying to trap her.
He had seen right through her. That had scared her even more. Instead of following up, of indulging her, he had simply disarmed her by wrapping his arms around her.
