Kiernan stalked back toward the side of the house. “Don’t worry about him. I’ll make sure he agrees.”
She raced after Kiernan. “Wait. I don’t want you to bully him into it.”
“He deserves to be bullied after kissing you.”
“Let me talk to him before you do.”
“I’ll be the one confronting him first.”
“Then just talk to him and nothing more.” She grabbed on to Kiernan’s arm.
He didn’t stop walking.
“Please, Kiernan.” She tugged on him, trying to pull him to a stop.
With a sigh, he halted abruptly, his jaw twitching.
“If this is going to be believable, shouldn’t I move backto the city?” That would make things easier for turning in her weekly segments to the newspaper. She would be able to write in peace and then deliver the drafts without having to find excuses to ride into the city.
He shook his head. “With as bad as the cholera is getting, I’m contemplating moving Alannah to Oakland.”
“At the very least, let me come with you for a few days, just until I can talk with Bellamy and see if we can work out this arrangement.”
Kiernan studied her face, as though sensing there was more to her request than she was letting on. “Fine. You can come home with us for now. But you’ll be returning to Oakland with Alannah soon.”
She smiled and then clapped her hands together. She hadn’t realized how much she missed the busyness of the city, the interesting people, and the tension and conflict that played out on the streets. As much as she loved the beauty of the countryside, the city was where she found the life and inspiration for her characters and plots.
She would relish the time back. She might even relish feigning a relationship with Bellamy.
8
Desperation drove Bellamy out of the pub and into the kitchen. As soon as he was out of sight of the crowd, he bent over and tried to drag a breath through his tight lungs.
If he had to listen to one more father try to convince him to marry his daughter, he would go mad. He couldn’t do it any longer.
The lingering scent of Dublin Coddle—the dish they’d served for supper with its creamy mixture of potatoes, onions, bacon, and sausage—filled his senses.
He needed a moment alone and was relieved that with the sun having set a short while ago, Jenny and Gavin had already gone up to the apartment. As usual, before retiring for the night, they’d moved the big cauldron of leftovers to low heat on the back of the stove for any latecomers to the pub. But most of the patrons on a Sunday night ordered drinks and weren’t here to eat.
Tonight, the fellows were also here to talk with Oscar about the match—the match Bellamy didn’t want. In fact,he’d made it clear again to Oscar after morning mass that he wasn’t planning on getting married anytime soon.
Oscar had merely waved his large hand and said the timing didn’t matter, that Bellamy could have an extended engagement—a year, even two. Oscar claimed that once Bellamy was in a relationship and headed toward marriage, that’s all everyone needed to know, and they would think of him more favorably again.
The assurance had eased Bellamy’s worries a little, and he’d pushed through the evening as best he could.
But now...
Bellamy straightened and stared past the disheveled kitchen. Dirty dishes and empty mugs were piled high on the worktable, and breadcrumbs and potato peelings littered the floor. The coal bin was nearly empty, and the bucket for water was drained dry.
Jenny and Gavin needed a kitchen boy who could help them with the mundane tasks. As business had increased and the popularity of the pub had gained momentum, the two had continued to shoulder the majority of the work. They weren’t as young and energetic anymore and couldn’t keep up the way they used to.
As much as Bellamy tried to help them in the kitchen, he also had more than he could handle pouring drinks and delivering the meals to the tables. Even though the spread of cholera and the slowing of business had alleviated a wee bit of the stress, the pub had been busier than ever for the past two days since Oscar’s announcement.
“Ach.” Bellamy rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the ache that had taken up residence there since the moment he’d kissed Zaira Shanahan.
It had been a mistake to kiss her. Pure and simple. He’d regretted it ever since. But that hadn’t stopped him from thinking about that kiss. She’d been so pliable and responsive, hadn’t pulled back or been hesitant. Instead, she’d been inquisitive, bold, eager, and full of emotion.
She’d been everything he’d imagined she’d be. Not that he made a habit of imagining sharing intimacies with Zaira. But there had been a time or two recently when his imagination had been all too vivid, and he’d envisioned her in all her fiery beauty, and he’d wondered if touching her would scorch him since the mere sight of her alone always did.
