"You got me boyo." Taking his drink with him, he wandered over to the window to look out at the beautiful sight. His eyes lingered with pleasure on the woman who had caught his eyes when he was but a wee lad and always wondered how he got so lucky.
He always considered himself a plain looking man. His Maeve was out of his league, but who knew? Now his son's lady was quite the looker. He had never been hung up on the color of a person's skin but never thought his son would fall for a black woman. Go figure.
He liked her a lot, even considered Kiara his daughter, but knew that there was an aloofness and a reserve that kept people at arm's length.
"When are you going to make an honest woman out of her?"
The question was a sore spot for him and not even the man who given him life was entitled to an explanation. Taking a sip of the scotch, he aimed his eyes on the woman who had twisted him into knots since the moment he laid eyes on her.
She was work, and that was probably a bloody understatement.
There had been times he had wanted to give up on her. She had rebuffed him too many times to count, throwing his love back in his face and disappearing for a couple of weeks without letting him know where she was.
When she finally returned, he had let loose and called her selfish and a coward. Her anger had bucked with his and they had ended up tearing at each other. Christ Almighty, his feelings for her were so powerful, he felt as if he was drowning at times.
"Whenever she accepts the fact that marriage is not a prison sentence." He murmured, his eyes still trained on her. He had been dreaming and hoping that she would carry his child. And now she was carrying two. He was trying to tell himself that he would give her time. "She's spooked."
Padric nodded, standing shoulder to shoulder with his son. "Her mother, she knows?"
Oscar shook his head, expression bleak. He had been brought up to be respectful especially to the fairer sex, but Victoria Landan was a case he had never come up against before. And he tried to stay as far away from her as possible.
He had gone with Kiara a few times to visit her in the retirement community she was now living and decided it would be better to stay away. Listening to the woman's complaints and her snide comments to her own daughter was trying his patience and his anger. He had to be reminding himself the woman was her mother.
His innate sense of protection was making it difficult for him to just stand there and listen while she struck out at the woman he loved.
"No."
"Quite a piece of work, she is."
"That's putting it mildly." Oscar's expression was grim. "It often amazes me that out of all that bitterness and anger, something wonderful was produced." His gaze softened as he continued to look out the window. "God, she's so beautiful." He watched, unaware of the look his father was giving him.
"She's afraid of being a bad mother. There's no fear of that, because she's so warm and loving. She secretly gives to the various children homes across the county, you know. And refuses to have her picture taken. She would go every now and again to sit with the children and bring them treats." He shook his head. "She's going to make a terrific mother."
Padric dropped a large hand on his son's shoulder. "And you boyo are very far gone."
Tearing his eyes from his woman, he flashed his father a grin. "Without a doubt."
"You overdid it." He muttered as he handed her the cup of tea. She was starting to think that she was going to drown in the stuff and would give up a limb for some strong Columbian. The fact that she had existed on the brand, pots of it while writing, made her feel nostalgic and depressed.
"I swam and took a walk." She sipped and grimaced. "As far as I know, those two things are good for the pregnant woman." She eyed him over the rim as he moved around with that careless grace of his, picking up her things.
That was something else about them. He was as neat as a pin and she was a slob. Years of living in a regimented household dictated by a tyrannical mother had taken its toll. When she left to go to college, she promised herself she would live as she pleased.
After a time, it became a habit. Whenever she was writing, she hardly had time to take a bathroom break, much less pick up after herself.
When she's at the cottage, she had a cleaning service twice a week. She would lock herself away and let them do their thing. Here, there were servants underfoot.
"You were as sick as a dog." He pointed out. Lowering himself next to her, he turned her so he could rub her feet. "Lie back on the pillows."
"I suppose I should not complain about you acting like an overprotective..." He lifted his head to look at her when she stopped and knew what had popped into her head.
"Darling."
She shook her head, determined not to get depressed. "I have to go and see her. I cannot tell her something like this over the phone."
He continued to rub her insteps, careful to rein in his anger. He hated that she suffered so. When he finally broke through her reluctance to be with him, she had confessed one night after avery vigorous lovemaking, what her life was like. And how it was with her mother.
He had been appalled at the things she told him. His life was charmed. He had loving parents who still touched each other enough to make him and his sister embarrassed.
