Page 71 of Calling on the Matchmaker
She scrambled to start buttoning the shirt but couldn’t make her fingers work fast enough. She didn’t want them watching her buttoning herself anyway, so she threw herself down beside Riley and jerked the cover back over herself, trying to hold her body far enough away from him so she wasn’t touching him ... because every time her body made contact with his, her thoughts shifted to him, to the hard, lean length of his torso, the warmth of his presence, the solidness of his muscles.
She never should have stayed the night. At the very least, she should have remained in the chair instead of putting her legs under the covers. She guessed that as she’d fallen asleep and gotten colder, she’d inadvertently burrowed more and more under the covers until she’d ended up in Riley’s bed altogether.
Whatever the case, she couldn’t marry Riley. That was completely out of the question. No matter how this situation appeared to everyone else, she had to make them understand nothing had happened between Riley and her.
Except the kiss ... One innocent little kiss. Or maybe not so innocent or little.
Flutters started again in her stomach. Only minutes ago, he’d been holding and kissing her as if he never intended to stop. She nearly closed her eyes again at the memory of the way he’d gently caressed her and then fused his mouth to hers in a kiss that defied reality.
Even though she’d been half asleep and thought she was dreaming, the kiss had been powerful enough to awaken every nerve, every muscle, and every inch of her skin to his touch. It was as if her body had been unconscious and had been brought back to life. Now she ached for more of him—needed more of him—to stay alive.
“Father O’Kirwin,” Riley said, his voice too close behind her, warming her neck and sending shivers over her back. “Getting married today is a bit rash, don’t you think?”
“After what I’ve witnessed here this morn, ’tis not rash at all, Riley Rafferty. Not at all.” Father O’Kirwin opened his prayer book. “What would be rash is not marrying this lass and righting the wrong you’ve done.”
“We didn’t do much, Father,” Riley insisted. “Just a little—”
Father O’Kirwin coughed. “I don’t think Bellamy or myself need to hear the details of your time together.”
“There aren’t any details,” Finola blurted. “We accidentally kissed. That’s all.”
“Accidentally?” Riley’s voice dropped. “There wasn’t anything accidental from my perspective.”
A flush warmed her face. “We were half asleep, so we were, and didn’t rightly know what we were doing.”
“I knew.”
“Oh, aye.” Bellamy cut in. “A heart follows what it knows. Clear enough as a summer day that the two of your hearts want each other.”
It didn’t matter how much her heart wanted Riley. Her head was in control, and it was telling her she needed to put an end to the conversation about marriage. She’d already cut things off with Riley once. She’d simply have to figure out how to do so again.
“From what I heard, Finola got the barmbrack ring in her piece of cake.” Bellamy spoke with all seriousness, as if the old custom actually had meaning. “And everyone knows that the person who gets the barmbrack ring will marry early.”
Father O’Kirwin was paging through his prayer book. “So now that we have that settled, let us begin.” He smoothed down a page, then made the sign of the cross. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
As she fumbled to finish buttoning the shirt, she stiffened, panic bubbling up. This wasn’t happening, was it? She had to stop the priest. Now.
Behind her, Riley touched her arm lightly and sighed. “No. We’re not getting married.” The bed began to shift as he crawled off the other side.
Was he saying no because he sensed her hesitation or because he didn’t want to marry her anymore?
Inwardly, she chastised herself for even caring. He was putting an end to their predicament, and that was all that mattered.
As he stepped around the bed, he didn’t seem the least disturbed that he was wearing only his undershirt and underdrawers. His sculpted muscles and defined torso were on full display—broad back and chest, bulging arms, and corded legs.
All that gorgeousness had been pressed against her only moments ago, and suddenly without him there beside her, she felt small and alone. Aye, she could admit she wanted him tocrawl back in and wrap his arms around her. But that was only because the room was still so cold.
“No,” Riley said again as he approached his chest of drawers. “Finola doesn’t want the match. She made that clear.”
“Dontcha be worrying.” Bellamy glanced at Father O’Kirwin and nodded. “She’s wanting you as much as you do her.”
Did she? Even if so, Bellamy shouldn’t be saying such things. “Bellamy McKenna, you’re a conniving weasel.”
“I’m just telling the truth, is all.”
“The truth is”—Riley rummaged through a drawer—“Finola is here because you orchestrated it and not because she chose it.”
Father O’Kirwin remained at the bedside with the prayer book open. “If you don’t marry her, then you’ll forfeit winning the election.”
