His hand tightened on hers. "We have to tell her. Whenever you're ready."
"I'll never be." She tugged at his hand when they reached the gazebo. "Here is perfect. A few dozen flowers strewn around to make it even more so. Chairs on the grass and a live band set upnear the pool. Nothing formal, something casual or close to it." She placed a hand over her belly.
"Not a white dress, but floral with eye popping flowers over the material. Dreamy, floaty, and tasteful." She turned into him. "Lots of pictures to show our babies when they're old enough."
He smiled softly, brushing a stray curl from her cheek. "You'd look beautiful in anything." The vision she painted, with flowers, laughter, and music, seemed to lift the weight from his shoulders, if only a little. For a moment, the world felt lighter, the pain softened by hope and possibility.
She brushed her fingers against the stubble gently. "Good answer. Suddenly, I want this. The wedding. I want to be your wife."
His eyes darkened. After waiting for what seemed like forever for her to say yes to him, he was overwhelmed by her enthusiasm.
"I cannot wait for it to become legal," he murmured, locking his arms around her waist.
"Is that so you can have the authority to dictate to me?"
"Something like that." Tipping her chin up, he bent his head and brushed his lips over hers. Soft, sweet, with just a hint of hunger that had her breath increasing. Going on her toes, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into the kiss.
Sweeping her into his arms, he headed for the house and the privacy to be alone with her.
The news broke the very next day. The internet was flooded with the story of Ed Graeme's stalking, the murder of his own mother and his slow and painful demise caused by a gunshot wound. There was also news about the engagement of the couple that quickly overshadowed the tragedy.
Kiara was in the middle of a conversation with Monique regarding her dress when her mother called.
She was seated behind her desk with files strewn around her, when Irene came in, holding the house phone, a distasteful look on her face.
"She insists on speaking with you. And is very rude about it." With a sniff, the woman handed the phone to Kiara.
"Would you like me to call Mr. Oscar?"
"No. No." She ended the call with Monique and took the hand held receiver. It was the first time in weeks since Oscar was able to go to the pub and sort out his business and she had no intention of bothering him.
"It's fine Irene. I can handle this."
The woman stood there for a spell, before shrugging and leaving the room.
"Mother."
The outburst was expected of course, but it still took her completely off guard and unhinged.
"I told you that something awful would happen if you go off on this relentless need to be in the spotlight. You were the cause of that man's death as sure as if you had pulled the trigger yourself. And what's this about you being engaged? As your mother, I have a right to know..." Kiara tuned her out, by thinking of anything else. It was a technique she had developed as a teenager. And it had served her well.
The flowers. She would consult the florists about the arrangement. The garden was in full bloom, plus what she had planted at the cottage. The new owners had told her enthusiastically that she could come around and pick whatever she wanted. The food would be left up to the caterers and Irene.
Of course, Maeve would want to be involved. Her dress was being designed. Something simple. The Irish band was already notified and would be available for that day. The first Saturday in October. She had already asked Padric to give her away and the man had become emotional.
She surfaced slowly from her thoughts when her mother demanded to know if she was listening. It was also then that she realized she was not in the least bit affected by the spiteful words coming from the woman's mouth. Something had changed. She was no longer shackled by stifling emotions that dealing with her mother had always produced.
Pressing a hand to her belly, she jolted when she felt tiny flutters. Her babies were moving, breathing and growing inside her. Nothing was more wonderful than that.
"Mama." She interrupted the flow of words. "Aren't you tired?"
"Excuse me?"
Kiara smiled at the affronted tone of voice. "You've been on this bitter train for as long as I know you. When are you getting off? You claimed that you had to give up a lot of things, the advancement of your career because you had to get married because you were pregnant. You still had your career and extra. So much more. You had a wonderful man who loved you and a daughter who was open to loving you."
"Dad is gone, bless his soul, but I'm still here. I'm carrying your grandchildren and about to be married to an exceptional man, one who has a heart as wide and as big as the ocean. He loves me--" Her breath hitched. "I almost missed that because I was so caught up in your anger and bitterness. He's there for me. He puts me first, always."
"You're missing out. Because if you don't change your way of thinking and your attitude, you're not going to be allowed around my babies. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to hang up now. I have a wedding to plan." She hung up before her mother could respond and simply leaned back and closed her eyes, a smile hovering around her lips.
