Chapter Two

 

He didn’t know why Bronte was here, but only a fool questioned a miracle when it landed on his doorstep. His Nightingale was close enough to touch after three long months of separation.

Before he’d made a conscious decision to move he was beside her, slipping an arm around her waist to keep her from disappearing.

His fingers flexed and he swallowed a hungry moan. She was here. Right here in the edible flesh and, it seemed, ready to fight for her husband’s honor.

I’m his wife.

And a damn sexy one, at that.

He’d woken up dreaming of her again, not knowing what the day had in store for him as he marked another X on his calendar. Maybe fate was on his side, since he shouldn’t have been here this afternoon for her to run into in the first place.

Why was she here?

For the last week he’d been working nights at the bar while Pat’s grandson was marking something off his bucket list—deep-sea fishing off the coast of somewhere tropical—so the request for help during the early lunch rush was unexpected.

He’d been clearing tables when the barely sober couple walked in and started scaring the regulars with their dodgy behavior. This was an oddly rare occurrence, despite the restaurant being attached to a pub, but it was one that was right up William’s alley. He’d grown up in and around bars of far less repute than Pat’s.

He’d moved closer without thought and got there in time to stop a single blow from landing, leading the duo outside to a smattering of applause from the watchful blue hairs in the crowd.

William always did have a way with the ladies.

Part of him was disappointed he’d managed to avoid a scrap. He was restless, impatient, and sick of waiting for his time here to wind down.

It wasn’t that he was miserable in Baltimore. He had a flexible job that had him filling in wherever he was needed, so he rarely grew bored. He’d managed to befriend Murphy, the owner of the local boxing club, who’d given him a place to blow off steam and swap stories. Between that and The Collins’ easy acceptance, he’d lucked into something good here, he knew. But it wasn’t home, and he wasn’t any closer to winning over his wife, so a good brawl with the gobshite would have done wonders for taking the edge off.

Reining himself in the way he had to since he’d come to America wasn’t something he was used to, but for the most part it had been worth it.

Even if the cousins initially looked on him with suspicion, they’d accepted his brother and sister readily enough. Given them a roof and the benefit of the doubt.

And he’d been growing on them as well, he knew, though marrying Bronte had lost him some ground in that regard. In their minds, he was the git who’d taken advantage of Hugo Wayne’s sister to gain his green card.

He’d gotten a black eye from his bride and been shuttled off by his family for his trouble.

At first, he’d resented the hell out of their interference, but in retrospect he couldn’t blame them. He was all too aware he wasn’t good enough for the likes of Bronte Wayne. Not yet.

His family would never believe him, but he hadn’t planned to whisk her off like that. Not that their future wasn’t set in his mind from the instant he’d seen her, because it was. But as luck would have it, she’d been the one to make him an offer he couldn’t refuse.

I’m his wife.

Bronte thought she was putting on a show for their audience. Saving him from an awkward situation. He was all for playing her damsel in distress if this was the end result.

Who knew being claimed by a woman would make him this hard?

“Mrs. Finn,” he murmured, enjoying her surprise when he pulled her flush against him. Her breasts pressed into his stomach and he slid one hand down to the sweet curve of her hip, knowing he was taking advantage of the situation, but needing to touch her just the same. “I’ve been thinking about you since I rolled out of bed this morning.”

“Wh—you have?”

He nodded, enjoying her confusion. “You woke up missing me too, didn’t you? It feels like it’s been months since I’ve had you in my arms. I think we should fix that right away, don’t you, darlin’?”

He didn’t give her another chance to respond, skimming his mouth lightly over hers. Her lips parted on a gasp and he accepted the unconscious invitation, instantly deepening the kiss. Hazelnut and Bronte. He groaned, tugging at her jaw and angling his mouth to take more.

How the hell had he walked away from this?

Leaving her that last day after coming so close to having her should have nominated him for sainthood. She’d been willing and so responsive, but he’d known as soon as the fog lifted she’d come out swinging harder than before.

She hadn’t been ready, so he’d done what she wanted, what everyone wanted, and walked away. He’d given her time to get used to the idea of them being together. To come to terms with the fact that he meant them both to keep their vows.

He wasn’t sure he had the strength of will to let her go again.

The small, greedy sounds she was making were sealing her fate, his fingers tightening instinctively on her hip, torturing himself as he rocked her against the erection straining the zipper of his jeans.

More, love. Give me more. 

He forgot everything but the need to claim his wife. His scattered thoughts raced desperately, seeking a solution as she slid her fingers through his hair and pulled him closer, one leg lifting to wrap around his thigh.

Jesus, yes.

His apartment was only a few blocks away, but he knew there were rooms above the pub for family. If none of the Collins clan were home, he and Bronte could finally start that honeymoon he’d been dying for. He palmed her ass and lifted her onto her toes, ready to carry her if he had to.

A horn honked loudly, causing them to break apart, eyes wide with lust and confusion.

Honk!

William slowly turned his head to see a white-haired man leaning out the window of his cab and eyeing them curiously. “Pick up?”

Hell.

William was reluctant to let Bronte out of his arms, but his sense of responsibility had him stepping away and gesturing toward the blonde. “Yes, um, that is… This young lady needs a ride home.”

He’d forgotten all about her, and her tense expression told him she knew it. At his glance, she slid her hair behind her ears, wiping off some of the mascara that streaked her cheeks as she forced a smile.

“Such a gentleman,” she said before frowning over at Bronte. “Are you really married? To her? How did that even happen?”

He guided her away from the bristling Bronte and into the back of the cab. “That’s a story worth telling, but you haven’t got time to hear it.” He winked at the driver. “Begging was involved, but as you can see, eventually I wore the stubborn beauty down.”

William stood, closing the door and nodding to the now smiling man. “Take her wherever she wants to go.”

As long as it’s not here. He let that go unspoken, but he could see the message had been received.

When the cab pulled away he took a fortifying breath and turned toward his other half. Her arms were crossed and her expression told him their moment for slipping upstairs and finally slaking their mutual lust had passed. For now.

“So Willy.” Her full lips pursed and he tried not to imagine biting them so he could focus. “Does that happen a lot? Grateful women in need of rescuing from drunks at the bar throwing themselves at your feet?”

He sliced his hand through the air in denial and shook his head. “God no. Believe it or not, that was a first.”

Her expression was clearly skeptical.

“Truly. This respectable establishment is tame compared to Finn’s, and I thought a pub couldn’t get more low key than my cousin’s.”

“Please.”

“Would I lie?” He ignored her eye roll. “You’d think it was a church serving pints instead of sacramental wine, unless you count big talk about the Ravens and their wife-snogging tendencies as sins.”

He saw her lips twitch and sent her a wicked grin. “Once or twice they’ve gone absolutely wild and pulled out the karaoke machine. But I think I’m to blame for that. I may have reminisced about how you serenaded me on our wedding night. Did you make it my special ringtone? The way you threatened to a few weeks ago?”

He was tempted to slip his phone out of his pocket and call her to find out, but her glare warned him not to try.

“You’ve told me most of this before today, remember? Why the hard sell now?”

“I’m trying to reassure you the situation was a one-off, and that you’ve no cause to worry about my virtue. You’ve never seen a more wholesome group of regulars sidle up to a pub in all your life.”

“Your virtue?” Bronte’s mouth twitched again. “Poor William. They really did consign you to purgatory, didn’t they? A wholesome bar. The horror.”

He moved closer, drawn to her the way he’d been from the start. A moth to a flame. “Nah, the Collins are good eggs. Old Pat’s a crack, as I’ve told you, but a soft touch when it comes to his grandkids. And there’s enough of them that wholesome might not be the right word at all, but only one of Pat’s sons has a husband as well as a wife. Not that it’s a competition or anything.”

She snorted. “So no kinky orgies or bisexual stripper bachelor parties then? Just beer, sports and, um, snogging?”

“Now I never said they weren’t kinky. But if they’ve had any orgies, I haven’t been invited. Come inside and I’ll introduce you.”

She tipped her head as if considering the invitation and he tried not to stare like a smitten dope. She was a stunner, his Bronte. Part sprite, part siren with curves that went on for days.

Her hair was still a short, sleek cap of black silk, framing big eyes and lips that weren’t as quick to smile as he would have liked. Whenever she relaxed enough to give him a grin, it was more of a rush than winning a fight had ever been. He wanted to feel that every day. To have the right to make her happy. The right to keep her.

She already owned him, body and soul. 

“Why aren’t you asking why I’m here?” She asked, her voice subdued. “Aren’t you curious?”

He grazed her cheek with his knuckles. “Well, you’ve missed my birthday by a few days, but I’ll admit to hoping you finally finished my blanket and wanted to tuck me in personally, to see if it fit.”

“Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?” she asked, sounding upset, before dropping her eyes to his shoulders. “I’m sorry I missed it, but that’s not why I came.”

She bit her lip and he gripped her chin between his fingers gently. “What has you so worn out with worry, Nightingale? What brought you all this way alone?”

Had she met someone else? Would fate be that cruel? After all his hard work, and as close as he was to reaching his goal, was she really here to tell him they were over before they’d been given a chance to begin?

“Tell me.”

She looked around the narrow cobblestone street as if someone were watching. “Not here. When are you free?”

“As long as no one needs me, I can take you back to my place as soon as I let them know.”

She was already shaking her head. “I—there’s a cute little inn not far from here. The woman who checked me in kept trying to slip me a copy of her nephew’s CD, but she was sweet. Can you finish up and meet me there?”

As much as he wanted to see her in his apartment, surrounded by his things, he had the feeling he would need to pick his battles carefully. Right now, getting her comfortable enough to tell him what was wrong was his priority. She’d be in his bed soon enough.

He watched her weave in place and he cupped her shoulders to steady her, wanting to kiss the shadows from her eyes. “You are tired, aren’t you, darlin’? Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?”

“I’m sure.”

He sighed. “Text me the name of the place and your room number and go rest. I’ll be there in an hour.”

She nodded, staring at his lips for one breath-stealing moment before she turned to go. He started walking backwards, unwilling to let her out of his sight.

His wife had a glorious ass.

When she turned the corner, he scowled, wondering if he should have walked her to her car. How far away had she parked, anyway?

Forcing himself to turn, he made his way into the bar where Trevor Collins was cleaning a glass, speaking in low tones to his seated father.

William’s cousin, Seamus, was a publican who knew how to build a pint, and a wizard of a chemist when it came to creating his own brews, but Trevor made William think of home.

Old Pat’s training, he imagined. Or something he passed down in the blood that made the man a born tender. Easy to talk to, eyes like a hawk, shoulders broad enough to cry on or toss you out on your arse if you stepped out of line. In the old days, William would have steered clear of a man like that. He wouldn’t have been able to make a living under that kind of scrutiny.

Trevor’s sister, Keira, was standing in the doorway that led to the restaurant, watching William with a question in her eyes. “You were gone a while.”

“The situation is taken care of,” he assured her as he walked to Pat’s side. “Sent the lady home in a cab.”

“And her date?” Trevor eyed him. “Does he still have the use of all his limbs?”

William tried to look shocked. “As if I would harm a drunken hair on the poor man’s head.”

Pat’s shoulders shook with suppressed amusement. “Heaven forbid.”

William nudged the old man with his elbow and leaned closer. “I don’t think your son knows what a law-abiding lover of peace I am. It might have something to do with my pugilistic prowess. Or maybe it was our initial introduction.”

He’d gotten the job thanks to Trevor’s brother-in-law and his contacts with the Finns and Ken Tanaka. He liked to think he’d kept it because of his sparkling personality, but he wasn’t quite that full of himself.    

Trevor smirked. “I don’t think your friend knows what a low tolerance I have for abusive men in general, Pop. I’m not sure he’d have gotten off so easily if I’d taken him outside.”

William couldn’t help but approve. “Knew there was a reason I liked you. Now if no one is in desperate need of my services, my wife has showed up out of the blue requiring my attention. Think I can take the rest of the day after dealing with the afternoon clean up?”

Pat turned around on his stool, beaming. “Bronte is here? Well, where is she, son? Why didn’t you bring her in to meet us?”

William rubbed his jaw, his throat tightening at the old man’s ease with him. His own grandfather was around the same age, but while he knew the man secretly adored him, he’d hidden it with masterful skill for most of his life.

Pat Collins wasn’t one to repress his emotions, and he had a talent for listening that few truly possessed. He did it so well that over the last month or two, William had shared some of his past and a few of his hopes for the future. Most of those were centered around one woman. Bronte Wayne.

Bronte Finn.

“This is the first time she’s come to see you,” Keira said, her curiosity bringing her closer to the bar. “Has something changed that you haven’t told us about?”

That was the question. “She wants to talk.”

“Talk, huh?” Trevor Collins shook his head regretfully. “That doesn’t bode well.”

William was already forgetting why he liked the man. “It’s nothing like that,” he assured them and himself swiftly. “She has something to tell me and she thought it was important to surprise me by doing it in person, that’s all.”

It sounded worse when he said it out loud. Fuck.

Keira glanced at Trevor reproachfully. “Don’t tease him. Not about this.”

William shook his head. “No, I can take it. To be honest, I’m not sure why she came. But whatever the case, she’s here and I have to hope that no matter what her reasons, I can work her thoughts around to other things.”

Pat slapped his knee, his proud smile easing some of William’s fears. “I’m betting you can. You sound as determined as Trevor and Ewan were when they fell for their wives.”

Keira wrapped an arm around her father, her smile matching his. “From what he’s told us, it doesn’t sound like an easy proposition, Pop. William did all his romancing in the wrong order.”

“I don’t know about that.” William watched the voluptuous Bubbles take a seat beside Pat at the bar. “Waking up married with a hangover has happened in your family before. That is how I met Riley and her man, back when I was a ‘ho in Vegas. That turned out all right for everybody.”

William swallowed his laugh. This particular family friend was a firecracker. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.” He turned back to Trevor. “I know it’s last minute but—”

“Go,” Trevor said, jerking his chin toward the door. “I’ll get one of the kids to cover for you tonight. Maybe Finn’s available. That way no one will even notice you’re gone.”

William winked at Keira. “He’s a comedian, your brother.”

“He thinks so. Before you leave—do you have any food at your place? If she’s here to talk, a good meal could go a long way.”

He hadn’t been thinking about that at all, but after her long drive he imagined she’d be thankful for something to eat. But it wouldn’t be at his place. Yet.

He told them what she said about where she was staying and Pat snorted. “That’d be Hunter’s aunt. She’s so proud of his success she can’t stop bragging. We all are.”

“Maybe Bronte would appreciate a sandwich or two?”

“After you dragged that couple out of here before someone called the police? We’ll have Riley make her the best sandwich she’s ever put in her mouth.”

He’d already reached the door to Sunday’s Side when Pat called out to him again. “Did you tell her?”

William felt his neck heat. “Not yet.”

Pat shook his head. “Fix that, William. And we expect to meet her soon, son. Don’t let us down.”

He nodded, his heart racing and his stomach in knots. He’d say he felt like a teenager, but not even then had he been this upside down over a woman.

They were right. He’d done it all backwards. And there were more uphill battles ahead. His family and hers. His past and their future.

There were only two things on his side at the moment. If her reactions to him were any indication, she still wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

And he was completely and utterly in love with his wife.

All he had to do was convince her that she loved him back and wanted to stay married before she found out what he’d been keeping from her.

Was it greedy to ask for two miracles in one day?