And ... he was too distracting lying on the blanket with his arms crossed behind his head and his muscular body stretched out in all its brawny glory. Without his cravat and vest and coat, he seemed more at ease. Sometimes he even had a button or two of his shirt undone or his cuffs rolled up.
Besides, when she kept reading, he watched her, making her self-conscious. Every time she glanced at him, he pretended to study the stars and told her he was there to make sure she was safe.
But it was more than that. ... At least, it felt that way to her.
Alannah paused with her pencil above Zaira’s manuscript and smiled. She couldn’t help it. Kiernan made her happy. Spending time with him was satisfying enough, even when they weren’t talking. But she loved their conversations too.He was interesting, and they could discuss just about anything.
He’d asked her lots of questions about what her life had been like in Ireland, and she’d shared all about her childhood and family. Likewise she’d asked him about his childhood and his family and each of his siblings and his experiences with growing up in St. Louis.
They’d talked about their plans and dreams for the future along with their fears and worries. They’d discussed the problems in Missouri and in St. Louis, particularly among the newly arriving immigrants. And, of course, they’d talked about the gang concerns for Torin.
She was finding that she and Kiernan could converse about everything ... except for their relationship. It was too awkward to talk about Bellamy and his matchmaking between them, especially because Kiernan had admitted he was still trying to figure out what to do next.
The last thing she wanted to do was push him into something he wasn’t ready for. That’s why she’d suggested starting out with friendship. Maybe if they learned to be friends, eventually he’d like her as more.
That was working for her. She was liking him more with every passing day.
She stared ahead to the spot where she and Kiernan usually met, the tall grass conspicuously flattened in just one area but growing in profusion everywhere else in the meadow along with the wildflowers.
How could she not like him after he’d given her a second book just two nights ago, another Jane Austen,Pride and Prejudice? A man who gave her books was a man who knew the way into her heart.
He was wonderful.
She released a happy sigh. Was God finally smiling down on her?
For so long, God had felt far away, even angry. But she supposed He had every right to be angry. She hadn’t exactly been living an upright life over the years before she’d immigrated. She could blame Hugh’s influence—his penchant for parties and drinking and dancing. But she could have told him no. Instead, she’d gone along with him all too often and had indulged in the same vices.
Sometimes she wondered if God had punished her by taking away her family. Even if He hadn’t directly punished her, at the very least He hadn’t been pleased enough to take her side over recent years.
Was that changing now that she’d put the vices out of her life and was living more uprightly? Would God give her something good? Maybe Kiernan?
She dropped her attention back to Zaira’s manuscript and poised the pencil above the next line of fine penmanship. Before she could take in a word, hands snaked around her face from behind and covered her eyes.
She startled, and a bubble of panic welled inside her chest. What was happening? Had she grown too comfortable at Oakland, and had Shaw Farrell discovered where she was?
Kiernan had been keeping her apprised of the few times that anyone from the Farrell gang had shown up at the brickyard. They hadn’t come inside, but it was clear they were still after Torin.
Did that mean Shaw was still after her too?
With a jab of her elbow, she wrestled against the hold.
Behind her came a familiar laugh. Torin’s.
She stopped her struggling. “Torin Darragh. You’re a beast for scaring me to death.”
He released her and stepped around in front of her. With a wide grin, he peered down, his bright blue eyes behind his spectacles filled with tenderness. His fair hair was overlong and in need of a trim and his scruffy face in need of a shave. But otherwise, he appeared to be healthy, his wiry body filled out and his muscles well rounded.
“It’s about time you came to visit,” she chided as she set aside Zaira’s manuscript and rose to her feet.
Torin was surveying her, taking her in from her head to her toes, likely reassuring himself that she wasn’t harmed or in want. She didn’t wait for him to finish and instead launched herself against him.
His arms encircled her at the same time she embraced him. For a long moment, she just hugged him, wishing she could see him more often. When she pulled back, she held him at arm’s length and examined him more carefully.
Even though Kiernan had kept her well informed on Torin’s doings, she couldn’t keep from peppering him with questions. “How are you doing? How is work at the brickyard? Are you getting enough to eat? Are you staying safe?”
“Whoa, now.” He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that reminded her of their da. “I’m fine. I can hold my own.”
Torin had already proven he could survive danger many times over. After all, he’d survived his time as a rebel with the Young Irelanders. He’d survived the hunger and the ship voyage to America. He’d survived the first difficult year of living in St. Louis. And he was still surviving against the gang rivals determined to punish him.
