He wanted to tell her she was wrong, but the words stuck inside him. Was he really ready to throw away all the caution he’d previously used and jump into a marriage with Zaira? He didn’t want to go from one extreme to the other, using restraint to using none at all.
“Bellamy won’t have a choice,” Kiernan said. “He’ll understand that your reputation is severely compromised, and he’ll do the right thing.”
“Aye,” Bellamy managed to croak. “So I will.”
Zaira spun and nearly tripped over her chair in her haste. Kiernan and Mr. Shanahan both straightened and riveted their gazes upon him, their eyes filled with accusation.
“I won’t need convincing to do the right thing.” This time Bellamy’s voice came out stronger. Although he felt weak, the doctor had assured him the wound would heal and that he’d be fine within a week or two. In the meantime, he would have to rest since he’d lost so much blood.
Mr. Shanahan nodded curtly. “I knew Bellamy was a man of honor.”
Zaira narrowed her eyes on Bellamy as though she was thinking of everything they’d talked about after their kiss. “I refuse to trap a man into marriage so he can save my honor.”
“You won’t be trapping me—”
“You told me I wasn’t the woman for you. So what else would a marriage to me be?”
He’d been a fool, that’s what. He’d been fighting his attraction to her after kissing her because deep down he’d known he was falling harder for her. And he’d tried to put something between them to keep himself from reaching for her and promising her forever.
“No,” Zaira said more adamantly. “I refuse to marry a man who is only doing so because he has no other choice. When I get married, I want to marry someone who is doing so because I’m his first choice.”
“You are his first choice.” Kiernan pinned Bellamy with a look that told him he’d better agree. “Like I said, everyone can see that you belong together.”
“Everyone?” She released a scoffing laugh.
“Ach, Zaira.” Bellamy tried to push up from the mattress, but his body ached too much to cooperate. “We’ll get married, and we’ll make the best of it, so we will.”
“Make the best of it?”
His proposal was likely the most unromantic ever spoken, and he wanted to slap himself in the head once the words were out, especially when her lips pinched into a thin, straight line. He needed to say something else, something sweet, something worthy of the romance she loved so much. But his brain was hazy and wasn’t working as quickly as it normally did.
“I’ve made up my mind.” Zaira situated the bedside chair against the wall. “I’m not getting married. Instead, I’d like to focus on my writing for a while.”
Her writing? Had she told her da and Kiernan about her newspaper column? If so, why?
“No, Zaira.” Mr. Shanahan crossed his arms and pinned her with a severe look. “It’s time to put that nonsense behind you.”
“Nonsense?” Her voice rose in pitch.
Was Mr. Shanahan calling Zaira’s writingnonsense? If so, that was very insensitive.
“Aye. You’re a grown woman, and it’s time to put childish ways behind you.”
Bellamy’s muscles were tightening more with each word the man spoke. “Zaira’s writing isn’t nonsense or childish. She has great talent, and readers love her stories.” He hoped she knew he was referring to the question she’d asked him last night about her story but that he hadn’t made time to answer.
All three turned to look at him again. He wished he could sit up and present himself as capable, calm, and confident as always. But he could hardly move without a wave of dizziness hitting him.
Kiernan raised a brow at him. “So, you’ve known about her writing for the newspaper?”
“Naturally.”
“And that’s why you don’t want to marry her.” Kiernan’s question came out a statement.
“The opposite. I believe she has the right to keep writing and deserves a husband who will support it.” He caught Zaira’s gaze, hoping she would understand how sincere he was, hoping she would realize he’d never be unsupportive like Oscar was to his mam.
Zaira regarded him warily.
Kiernan waved a dismissive hand. “All the more reason forthe two of you to get married, since you’ll support Zaira’s writing.”
