“O’Grady?” her father said. “Any relation to the O’Gradys who live in Clare?”
“Yes,” Laura said.
The bell summoning everyone to take their seats pealed through the crowded function room.
“Why?” her mother demanded. “Why would you do this to us? Why couldn’t you settle with James? It’s what his parents want. It’s what we want.”
“Laura and I are friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be to each other,” James said. “I have a live-in boyfriend, and I’m quite happy with the status quo. Come, Laura. I believe we’re at table number ten.”
With a firm hand at her back, he ushered her over to their table.
“You didn’t have to out yourself.”
“They’re treating you like an irresponsible teenager. I’ve spent time with you, and you’re a mature adult. You and Dallas are good together. The man loves you,” James said. “The time of arranged marriages is over, and both our parents need to back off and respect our wishes.” He pulled out a chair and seated her with calm competence.
“Thank you.”
“It’s no problem. You’ve impressed Steven and me with the way you’ve found yourself work. I bet Steven you wouldn’t last the distance, and I’m damn pleased to find myself on the wrong side of our wager.”
“Well,” Laura said. “I don’t know whether to hug you or slap the grin off your face.”
“Steven likes my face,” James said. “He wouldn’t be impressed if you tried to rearrange it.”
“A hug it is.” And despite the other people taking their seats at their table, she gave him a swift embrace.
Laura hadn’t met any of their dinner companions, but James knew them and made introductions. For a business function it wasn’t too bad, although the superficial conversation and her irritation with the social juggling highlighted the ways she’d changed.
“What do you do for a job?” the woman seated beside her asked.
“At the moment I’m doing temp office work. I also work in a pub part-time.”
“A pub?” The woman leaned away, reassessed Laura, and her smile slipped.
“Yes. I work in the kitchens. It’s fun.” Yep, and the woman’s smile dialed back even further. These people irked her with their attempts to classify her by her job and acquaintances. For James’s sake, she piled on the charm. “What do you do?”
“Oh, I don’t have a job. Why take employment when I don’t have to?”
They ate melon appetizers while the band played background music.
James set down his spoon. “Would you like to dance?”
“Please.” She took James’s arm and strolled with him to the small area set aside for dancing. Several other couples had the same idea.
“How do you put up with these people?” she whispered. “They have no idea about the real world.”
“I have Steven at home. He keeps me grounded.”
“Grounded,” she mused. “That’s how I feel when I’m with Dallas. He makes me believe in myself and think anything is possible if I work hard enough.”
“He doesn’t scoff at your ideas or views,” James added.
“No, he lets me be me.”
“I understand. Steven is…I love him.”
“I’m glad. Dallas says he loves me. I love him too, but I haven’t told him.”
“Why not?” James stopped dancing. “Let’s get some fresh air.”
“What about the business side of this shindig?”
James made a scoffing sound. “This is about appearances.” He led her to an inner courtyard, complete with fountain and myriad flowering plants. Laura breathed in the scent of the flora and let the oasis of peace flow through her and loosen the tension in her shoulders.
“I’m waiting for the why,” James said. “It’s obvious Dallas is crazy about you.”
“I worry about the feud between our families. No matter how much we try to ignore both sides, we’ll get hurled into the middle. It’s starting already.”
“Do you truly love him? It’s that simple.” James glanced at his watch. “We’d better go back in for our main course.”
“Do we have to?”
James laughed and ushered her back to the function room. Laura took her seat and searched out her parents, her brother. Her gaze connected with her mother’s and the wealth of fury—the raised chin, the circles of vibrant color on her mother’s cheeks, the flat line of her lips—spelled out the bare truth. What Laura had done was unforgivable and she wasn’t fit to bear the Drummond name. Seconds later, the visual confrontation was over, but it left Laura shaky, conflicted by the pull of emotions. She’d done it now—crossed the line into the enemy camp, and there was no going back.
The sting of rejection shredded her, prickled tears into her eyes. Knowing something like this would happen was different from experiencing it firsthand. Her hand trembled when she reached for her wine glass.
“I’m sorry, Laura,” James said.
She glanced up to find him watching her, his blue eyes full of sympathy. “It doesn’t matter.” But her chest felt tight, and she had to force her words past the pocket of air that jammed her lungs.
James squeezed her hand, and his solid presence helped her get through the rest of the evening.
Later that night at the flat, Laura thought about James’s words. Did she really love Dallas? She’d chosen him over her family, but did it equate to true love? The forever kind. Was it enough? She tossed and turned on the couch in the apartment above the pub, sleepless, her mind busy as she grappled with the answers and what she wanted for her future. Her thoughts kept circling around the same thing, and by six the next morning, she’d come to a decision.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go up to the apartment and rest?” Laura asked.
Dallas scowled his objection. “No. I’m bloody tired of bed. I’m going to sit here at the bar, and when you take your break, we’ll have lunch together.”
Laura raised her hands in surrender when she wanted to laugh at his sulky expression. “I missed you.”
“Same goes,” Dallas said, snagging her hand with his uninjured one. He drew her closer, and Laura dipped her head for a kiss.
“My god,” someone snapped from behind them. “It’s true.”
They drew apart, both turning to face the newcomer.
“Aaron.” Laura stiffened. “What are you doing here? Dallas, do you know my brother, Aaron?”
Dallas gave a curt nod, and she sensed his tension coiling, his inner predator crouching, ready to explode into frenetic motion. She squeezed his hand in silent reassurance.
“You’re an idiot,” Aaron snapped. “If you’re trying to wind up Mother and Father, you’ve succeeded. Congratulations.” His rhythmic applause held distinct mockery.
“Is that what you’ve been trying to do?” Suspicion radiated from Dallas as his gaze traveled from her to Aaron and back.
“No, no, of course not.” Laura glared at her brother. “I don’t play games. I never have, and I never will.”
“I have a message from Father. If you insist on continuing with this charade, you will not be welcome at home. You will not receive monetary help, not even if you come crawling back on your hands and knees.”
Laura froze, sucked in a gasp at the stark utterance still ringing through the air. Dallas slipped an arm around her waist, the silent support lending her spine. “They couldn’t issue the ultimatum in person?”
“They wouldn’t want to soil their shoes by entering O’Grady property,” Patrick said from the other side of the bar.
“I’ll wait outside for five minutes,” Aaron said, giving her a hard look before stalking off.
Laura stared after her brother, anguish a hard punch to her chest. Even though she’d expected this too, facing reality stung. She took half a step and realized she was still holding Dallas’s hand.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “You’re welcome to make your own choice.”
Fury pumped through her, and her hand flashed out before the thought even formed. The crack of her palm over his cheek reverberated in the pub, and the few customers who weren’t already staring turned to check out the ruckus.
“Ow,” Dallas said.
“Has that cleared the fog from your brain?” she demanded. “Or do you need another one to jog your mind into gear?”
Patrick let out a startled laugh, but she didn’t shift her gaze off Dallas.
“I’ve made my choice and I don’t intend to go anywhere,” Laura said. “If you’ve changed your mind and don’t want me, tell me now. My family irritates the crap out of me, but I’d prefer not to be shunned if you’re having second thoughts. Do you want me or do I go home?”
“I want you.”
“Then stop acting the idiot and start using your brain. I’m giving up a lot for you.”
“Why?”
“Why?” Her voice rose until it neared a screech. “Idiot! Because I like you. You give me so much. Acceptance. Security. Independence. Friendship. Love.”
His eyes tracked her hands as she waved them in emphasis. He was quiet for a few beats longer. “What about your belongings at your parents’?”
“The important stuff is right here.”
His face softened. “Sorry, I’ve had too much time alone to think. I do love you.”
“Good,” Laura said, and she sidled closer, stealing a kiss.
“If you two are gonna get mushy, you’ll have to move upstairs. Our pub license doesn’t cover that sort of thing,” Patrick said.
Dallas’s cell phone rang, and he checked the screen. “It’s Ma. I’ll ring her back once I get to the apartment.”
“Looks as if Quinn carried out his threat,” Patrick said. “Do you want me to talk to her? Tell her not to worry.”
“Nah, I’ll do it,” Dallas said.
“I’d better get to the kitchen to help with the prep work. See you in an hour.” And with a wave Laura headed for the kitchen.
“Okay, how are you? The truth.” Patrick asked once Laura had disappeared.
“My arm hurts like a bitch.” Dallas stared after Laura, not reassured, despite her certainty. What would happen six months down the track when it was her birthday or another special occasion? “And now my face hurts too.”
“Take some painkillers.”
“They make me sleepy, and I wake up with a cotton candy brain.”
Patrick poured a beer for one of their regulars before returning to Dallas. “I thought that was the idea, to rest and heal. What are you going to tell Ma?”
“The truth.”
“Which is?”
“You have customers to serve.”
“Lounging around in hospital hasn’t helped your temperament.”
Dallas scowled into his cup of coffee. The time in hospital had given him hours to think, to worry, and Quinn’s harsh laying down of the law hadn’t helped. Laura was young, and he kept thinking about Maria. Her cheating, and the way she’d always twisted everything and made it seem as if he were at fault. She’d said he’d demanded too much from her and his high expectations were crippling to her emotions.
What if he was pushing Laura and she grew to resent him? For them—because of their families—there would be no second chances. There was too much ill-will between the O’Gradys and the Drummonds.
“Dallas.”
Dallas glanced up to see Quinn. “What do you want?”
His brother’s gaze zeroed in on his face, picked past his impassive mask and left Dallas feeling naked.
Quinn held his hands up in a passive greeting. “I came to see how you are. You shouldn’t be at work.”
“I told him that,” Patrick said. “He’s stubborn. Takes after you.”
“Ma said you’re not answering your phone.”
“I’ll ring her later.” Dallas shifted on the bar stool and winced at the arrow of pain down his ribs. Hell, every muscle in his body sang like an angry rocker while violins creaked and sawed across his brain. He inched up with ginger moves, muscles tense to help cushion the torture. “Maybe I’ll go back to the house.”
“I’ll drive you,” Quinn said, his tone brooking no argument.
Dallas had intended to drive himself but gave way. No way in hell would he manage the trip on his own. “Thanks.” Quinn probably intended to lecture him for the entire journey. “Patrick, Quinn’s driving me back to my place. Can you tell Laura?”
Patrick nodded. “I’ll tell her. Here are your pills. Make sure you take them and get some rest.”
Quinn scooped up the prescription bottles. “I’ll make sure he takes them.”
Dallas collapsed into the passenger seat of Quinn’s car with a loud groan and breathed slow and deep. Bed was looking better with every passing second.
Quinn pulled up outside Dallas’s house. “Are the ribs giving you grief?”
“A bit.” An understatement. “What did Dad and Ma say?”
Dallas handed over his house keys and shuffled inside once Quinn had opened the door.
“They want to talk to you,” Quinn said.
“Yeah.” Dallas gave a tired sigh and even that hurt. “But what did they think? You might as well tell me.”
Quinn stalked to the window and peered out at the rear garden. “They asked if you were happy.”
“And?” Prying information from his brother was like trying to brew whiskey from tap water.
“They’re reserving judgment until they speak with you and meet the girl.”
“Laura. She has a name.” His parents’ reaction didn’t surprise him. “I’ll talk to them now. Dial for me.”
“Ma, it’s Dallas,” Dallas said, accepting the phone from Quinn.
“How are you? Quinn said you’ve been in the wars.”
“I’m okay. Ma, I love Laura.” No point pussyfooting around the Drummond in the room.
“Son, are you sure she loves you?”
Dallas thought about the slap he’d received earlier, and he grinned until the pull on his mouth hurt his split lip. She mightn’t have told him she loved him, but she cared a whole lot. “I’m positive.”
“Quinn said you’re living together.”
“Quinn had a lot to say for himself.”
“After what happened…he worries,” Ma said.
“Laura and I are happy. We love each other and we plan to marry.” At least that was where he was heading with his thoughts.
“I see. You won’t get married without us,” his mother said.
“No.” His parents weren’t due home until next month. Time for some of the dust to subside.
Quinn strode to his side and plucked the phone from his hand. “Ma, it’s Quinn. Dallas needs to take his medication and have a sleep. No, there isn’t anything you can do by rushing home. Dallas is his usual testy self.” He paused. “No, I intend to wait with Dallas and do some work. Take care.” Quinn ended the call.
“You don’t have to stay with me,” Dallas said.
Quinn ignored him and stalked into the kitchen. He returned with a glass of water and three different pills. “Take these.”
When Dallas opened his mouth to argue, Quinn said, “I’ll ring Ma back and tell her she needs to come home.”
Dallas cursed and flung out his hand, unable to withhold his wince of pain. “Give me the damn pills. I guess a few hours of knock-out sleep won’t hurt.”
“Go to bed,” Quinn said. “It’s quiet here, and since they don’t need me at the pub, I’ll stay for a few hours. I have an appointment at four and will stay until then.”
Dallas swallowed the pills and heaved himself to his feet. “I don’t need help,” he snarled when Quinn took two steps toward him. “Fuck, sorry.” He wiped the sweat from his brow. “Help yourself to anything from the kitchen.”
“It’s a nice place.”
“Yeah, Laura and I like it here. We’re gonna have barbeques in the garden during the summer.”
“Dallas, don’t bite my head off, but how do you know you can trust her? Her sisters caused hell for me with their lies.” Quinn slipped his arm around Dallas and helped him down the passage to his bedroom.
Dallas perched on the corner of his bed, waiting for the pain to subside before he attempted his boots. “We met when she had a flat tire, and I offered her a ride to Clare. She ended up staying with me at the cabin, and we’ve been together ever since. She’s not like her sisters and brother. Once you know her better, you’ll see what I mean.”
“But—”
“Look, I worry about the age difference between us, the wealth of life experience. You don’t think I haven’t wondered if her parents are responsible for the attack. It was so random. I’m sure I’ve seen the guy who slugged me in the pub a couple of times. Then there’s the graffiti and the emails about the debt owed. True, it points to the Drummonds.”
“But you don’t think Laura is a part of it.”
“My heart says that,” Dallas said, attempting to toe off his boots. “Damn, can you assist please?”
Quinn removed his boots and helped Dallas out of his jacket. “What about your head?”
Dallas stilled. “Hell! That’s the part that’s worrying. I love her, but your past history with the Drummonds keeps fucking with my mind. Because you just have to keep harping on it. Then there’s Maria. I worry I’m setting myself up for another bloody fall.” He rubbed his good hand over his face and groaned. It felt as if his head was stuffed full of cotton wool. Damn pain pills.
“But—”
“No! Damn, I had all this sorted in my mind before the mugging. I’ve had too much time to think, and you’re not helping by adding your opinion at every opportunity. Everyone needs to butt out so Laura and I can work things out ourselves.”
Maria watched the house from a concealed spot behind a tree. She stamped her feet, jammed her hands in her pocket and cursed under her breath for forgetting to grab her waterproof jacket. The cold spring blast still sweeping New Zealand kept bringing low temperatures. The accompanying sleet showers sucked for surveillance.
The rumble of a car engine had her straightening to blend into the shadows. The car slowed and turned into a driveway farther down the road, the engine dying seconds later. Long minutes ticked past. Lights flickered on in the house and her tension faded to a low-level hum. A neighbor. Nothing to worry about.
“Damn, Quinn,” she muttered. “How long are you going to stay?”
She waited, rubbing her hands together and huddling into herself to keep warm. What seemed like hours later, Quinn drove away, leaving Dallas in the house alone.
After checking the road in both directions and studying each of the surrounding houses for nosey neighbors, she felt safe enough to scuttle across the road and slip down the driveway. She’d watched Dallas and the woman and knew the hours they came and went. She’d studied the locks and figured she’d get inside without problems.
Her hand trembled when she reached for the doorknob, her fingers numb with the cold. When the knob turned in her hand, a spurt of surprise escaped her in a soft croak. She inched the door open, head cocked to listen.
Not a sound.
She stepped into the house and closed the door. Warmth hit her chilled face, the contrast of temperatures bringing a tingle to her features, her fingers and toes. The scent of coffee enticed her, and she followed it to the kitchen. Still no sign of Dallas. No matter. She’d grab a coffee and forage for food before approaching Dallas.
He’d loved her. Surely he’d help her now, once he learned of her troubles. Besides, she’d seen the other woman slap him in the pub. She hadn’t been game to get too close since she knew they were keeping an eye on the pub, watching for another chance to get Dallas.
None of this would’ve happened if Dallas had listened to her at the start, if he’d accepted her apologies, taken her back. Dallas wouldn’t have got hurt.
Maria found a mug and poured a coffee. She added two spoonfuls of sugar to make the liquid drinkable. In the fridge, she discovered a smoked chicken, some bread and made herself a sandwich. Nothing had ever tasted so good.
In the lounge, she added a couple of logs to the wood burner and toasted herself until the last of her chill retreated. Half an hour passed, and still Dallas didn’t make an appearance. She’d given up creeping around and walked down the passage, exploring the interior. Not bad.
Of course when they got back together, she’d ask Dallas to move to an apartment, somewhere in the center of the city. She enjoyed living close to the action. This place was too far out in the ’burbs. Who wanted nosy neighbors chatting over the fence or rug rats screeching next door?
The first bedroom—a decent size double—was empty apart from boxes of books and crap. In the second bedroom—the master—she found her man. Dallas was in bed, his breathing deep and even. A purple bruise covered part of one cheek and one of his eyes appeared swollen. A hand stuck from under the covers. Swathed in a white plaster, the limb contrasted with the navy and silver duvet cover.
Joe had told her they’d given her man a warning. Worse would come if he didn’t settle her gambling debts.
A glance at her watch told her she had time. She could clean up a bit, take a shower and if she woke Dallas, it wouldn’t matter.
Two hours later, a yawn seized her. Dallas was still asleep and hadn’t woken while she showered or put her clothes in the washer. Now they were drying. She didn’t know what time the woman would arrive. A grin curled across her face as a thought occurred. Why shouldn’t she grab a few z’s while her clothes were drying? And if the woman came home, so what?
“Why don’t you take Dallas’s truck and head to the house?” Patrick suggested after telling her Quinn had rung and told him he’d made Dallas take his pills and sent him to bed. “It’s quiet. We can cope without you.”
“Thanks. I don’t want to leave him alone for too long,” Laura said. “No telling what idiotic thoughts will occur to him.”
“Laura.” Patrick stayed her with a hand on her shoulder. “You have to make allowances for the history between our families. The attack on Dallas plus the break in and the graffiti business are suspicious. It’s no wonder Quinn is full of doubts and why Dallas is not himself.”
“I’m not responsible,” she snapped. “I’d never do that. From the moment I met Dallas, I’ve been upfront and honest. I’m not a devious person. If I have problems with Dallas, I’ll tell him to his face.”
“You’re not the one with cracked ribs. You’re not the one with a dinky arm. You’re not covered with bruises. Cut him a little slack. Quinn said he’s dopey with meds. He’s not thinking right. Go easy on him. Please.” Patrick squeezed her shoulder. “From where I stand, you’ll make a great sister-in-law.”
“I’ve heard the Irish have silver tongues.” She drew a deep breath, her temper softening around the edges. Another draft of air and her brain cleared to focus on one thing—her love for Dallas.
Then a thought occurred—crystal sharp and obvious. Duh! She hadn’t told him she loved him. She’d told James instead of the one person who should know of her feelings.
“You’re right. Thanks. I needed the pep-talk,” she said.
“You and Dallas work together—you’re right. Our families will see it soon. Call me, okay? Let me know how he is.”
“As soon as I get home.” It was raining again. Laura scuttled from the pub to Dallas’s truck and still managed to get soaked. The cold water seeped through her lightweight coat, and by the time she reached the house, goose bumps pebbled her skin.
The house lay in darkness when she climbed out of the truck. She readied her key, frowning when the door opened to her touch, then shrugged when she realized Quinn wouldn’t have had a key.
She walked down the passage to the bedroom. Dallas hadn’t bothered to draw the curtains, and the streetlight across the other side of the road shone through the window. She came to an abrupt halt when she saw the outline of a woman cuddled up against Dallas. Heavy breathing—almost a snore—came from Dallas. Laura stood there for an instant longer, blinked twice and refocused.
There was a strange woman in bed with Dallas.
She was gonna kill him.
Laura took half a step into the bedroom, ready to deliver a rude awakening, ready to commit murder, ready to kick the bimbo in her skinny arse and came to an abrupt halt. She backtracked to the kitchen, hands fisted at her sides and unshed tears burning her eyes.
What to do? With a trembling hand, she hit speed dial and tapped her toes while waiting for Patrick.
“Speak.”
She dispensed with the niceties, getting straight to the point. “You need to get here now. I want you to witness me committing a murder.”
“What’s wrong?” Patrick demanded. “Dammit, Quinn. Let me talk to her.”
“It’s Quinn,” another voice snapped. “What’s wrong with Dallas?”
“Come to the house,” she said. “And when the Drummond-O’Grady feud bursts into life again, you’ll have a front row seat. Don’t worry. I’ll wait for your arrival before I start kicking butts.”
She poured herself a glass of wine, took a huge sip. She paced back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Drank more wine. By the time she finished with Dallas, he’d realize his screw up. He’d rue the day and all that crap. Her hand tightened on her glass. Empty. She refilled her glass, thought about getting to the ass-kicking. No. Wait for Patrick and Quinn. Wait for witnesses.
The sound of a car made her straighten. She drank the last of her wine and stalked to the door to let them inside. “That was quick.”
“You sounded angry,” Patrick said.
Quinn’s expression took pissed to new heights. “What’s going on?”
“Come with me.” She stomped down the passage, anger and two glasses of wine lending her speed. She flicked on the bedroom light. “Look at that.” Her finger poked bullet holes in the air. “Tell me I don’t have a right to murder him in his bed.”
“Christ Jesus.” Quinn stalked to the bed and shook Dallas with no regard to his injuries.
Patrick strode to the other side and glanced at the stirring bimbo. Laura remained rigid in the doorway. Low down dirty cheating scumbag bastard.
“Dallas, wake up.” Quinn shook him again.
The woman sat up and wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands. The sheet dropped to her waist.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Laura muttered, glaring at the woman’s naked torso.
“You fuckin’ idiot,” Quinn said. “Dallas. Wake up, dammit!”
Dallas began to stir. The woman belatedly—for effect, Laura was sure—pulled the sheet up to her chin in an attempt at modesty. Dallas squinted at Laura, a dopey grin spreading across his cheating face. He looked like a small boy with his sleep-mussed hair, but the dark stubble along his jaw line and the hard, bruise-covered chest gave lie to first impressions.
“Oops,” the woman said, fluttering dark eyelashes. “You caught us.”
Dallas’s head snapped to the right, his grogginess falling away. His eyes widened, his expression transforming to horror. “Maria? What the fuck are you doing here?”