Page 27 of Beneath Pearly Irish Skies
He dumped her gently onto the couch and stalked to her front window, his boots making the boards creak. “God, I hope not. This isn’t an easy topic for me.”
What in the world was he talking about? “You’d better start at the beginning.”
His hand cruised along her windowsill as if brushing away dust. “Margaret went to convent schools.”
Suddenly Bets understood. “Oh.”
His back muscles were tense through his green work shirt. “It isn’t easy to say, but she wasn’t for it. Early on, I tried to talk to her about it, saying it was all right when a man and woman were married.”
Had they waited until they were married to have sex? From the sound of it, they had, which was likely common enough back then. She believed in respecting other people’s beliefs, except if they intentionally hurt other people. This was a little different. “But she wasn’t comfortable.”
“No, neither with the giving or receiving.” He grabbed ahold of her windowsill again. “In fact, we stopped talking about anything related to sex, and that’s not something I want to happen with us. So that’s why I’m asking you this and why I want you to tell me what’s really bothering you.”
They would get to that, she thought, her heart warming in her chest. “It can’t be easy to talk about Margaret like this. Or yourself.”
“It’s not, but it needed saying.” He turned, putting his hands to his hips. “I am embarrassed, Bets, not only to be having the conversation but because I haven’t had the experience.”
“Do you want to?” She rose from the settee, knowing she needed to cross to him.
His cheeks deepened in color, but his proud bearing offset the vulnerability in his eyes. “Very much. Both the giving and receiving,mo ghrá.”
“Then we’ll do that,” she said, finally reaching him and putting her hand to his chest.
He rolled his eyes. “I feel like an idiot. I’d like to assure you that I’m a good lover, but I’ve only been with Margaret, and there were rules, ones I found…confining at times. I loved her—you know that—but our views about sex weren’t the same. I fear our marriage bed suffered for it. The only thing I can promise you is that I’ll give you everything I am and everything you ask for—if you want me.”
Her heart ached, hearing that admission. “I do want everything—but most of all, I want you.”
He leaned down and kissed her gently. “Think me an old fool?”
“No,” she whispered, cupping the back of his head. “Never.”
She knew men and their pride. She understood how hard it had been for him to share this with her, and it emboldened her to do the same. “Your instincts were right. There is something I wanted to discuss. How do you feel about having sex in daytime hours and anywhere in the house besides the bedroom?”
His mouth tipped up on the right, and his green eyes sparkled like the fields in the morning light. “I’m in favor of it, not having had the experience.”
With that admission, she went a step further and said, “When I first came to Ireland, I didn’t like the way my sex life with Bruce changed because people kept popping by.”
Donal nodded. “I see the way of it now. It does have a way of curtailing things, doesn’t it? It’s like I told you. Once that horse bolts, there’s no getting it back. I’m going to want to do everything, Bets. Anywhere. Anytime.”
“Good!” Her belly tightened at the very thought. “Interested in starting a little right now?”
She would talk to Liam later about changing the house rules. Right now, all she wanted was Donal. She sank to her knees in front of him.
“My God, girl. You’re not thinking—”
“I am.” Her hands undid the top button on his pants and then unzipped them slowly, his desire evident, making her mouth water. God, she’d been waiting a long time for this.
He grabbed her hands, groaning as he halted her progress. “Bets, I want this more than anything, and if I’d known you would even think to do this, I wouldn’t have called—”
“Hello!” a male voice called out. “Donal, Bets, where are ye now?”
Bets scrambled off her knees. “You called your father?”
He quickly secured his pants, wincing. “I thought to tell him about St. Stephen’s after Megan left. Oh, Jesus, this is a disaster. The first moment everything is going my way…”
She smoothed her hair back, hoping she didn’t look like some sex kitten who’d just been on her knees. “In here, Eoghan.”
The older man appeared, singing a tune softly in Gaelic. “I can come back if ye need,” he said with a knowing grin.
Bets pasted a smile on her face while Donal tensed beside her. “Don’t be ridiculous. Come in. We have fairy cakes and biscuits. Would you like some tea?”
“That would be grand, yes,” Eoghan replied, taking his sweet time lowering onto a chair in her parlor.
Before she could dash to the kitchen to grab some ice and press it to the back of her hot neck, Donal leaned in to whisper, “I’ll be thinking up a solution for this popping by problem, Bets, I promise, and we won’t be doing anything else until then. I can’t stand the torture.”
She chuckled all the way to the kitchen despite herself, having her answer.
