Page 95 of Beneath Pearly Irish Skies
She traced the middle of his chest, feeling his heartbeat against her fingers. “You’re going to tell me, huh?”
“You wanted to know we’d be good together first.” He made a triumphant sound. “Admit it. And now that you—and I—know the full of it, you’re starting to imagine what’s next.”
She almost cracked “A baby?” but it wasn’t funny, even if it was impossible. “Living together?” she asked, knowing he meant marriage.
He kissed her hard on the mouth. “If you want. Maybe it’s my age, but I know a ring won’t make me love you any less or treat you any different. I’m trusting the same is true for you.”
He was right. It wouldn’t change. But she still wasn’t sure about marriage. “Something screwy happens to people when they get married.”
“Please, for the love of God, don’t say that to the Yanks,” he said with a sigh. “You have something else on your mind. What is it?”
She startled. How had he—
“I wasn’t going to say until after the weddings. There’s nothing we can do about it anyway.”
“You’ll tell me since it’s been weighing on you for a week now.” He tapped her nose, his green eyes steady. “You can always unburden yourself to me,mo ghrá. I thought you knew that.”
“I do.” She leaned over and punched the pillow. “We didn’t get the grant funding. They somehow heard about our ‘fire’ and the resulting damage. They even read the report. We don’t seem to know what we’re doing yet, the letter said. Maybe next year, when we can show we’ve addressed some of our issues and have more experience running the arts center. It pissed me off.”
Donal sat up and pulled her into his arms. “The only way they could have heard was if they contacted the county council. This sounds like Tom MacKenna’s doing.”
She thought so too. “I still feel like I’m to blame. Maybe I didn’t write a compelling enough application.”
“Angie read your responses, as did I,” he said, taking her by the shoulders. “It was a right fine application.”
“But we don’t have the money, Donal.” She started to bite her fingernail and thought better of it since she had a fresh manicure. “We’re going to have to do more fundraising.”
“So we have another fundraiser,” he said, pulling her onto his lap. “I’ll sell my sheep if I have to—”
“We talked about this. You—or Carrick—aren’t selling your sheep. Dammit! None of us can start funding the center like that. It needs to be independent.”
“Still…” He tipped her chin up. “It’s as I told you when I first came to call. I’m retiring soon. I’ll be selling sheep and land, likely to Carrick, since I like him and he’s starting to feel like family.”
Her throat grew tight.Family.What a powerful word.
“I want to be with you,mo ghrá. Always. But we’ll leave that for now.”
She put her head to his shoulder. His girls were coming for the holiday, and they’d agreed he would spend it with them and Eoghan. He had his family, and she had hers, only things would feel strange this year without Wyatt and Rhys. She was grateful for her cousins and Carrick and Kade—along with Liam, of course—but there was still Patty and Dan to contend with.
“You’re sad, and you’re thinking too much,” he said, laying her back and cradling her against his body. “The holidays can do that to a person. I’ll be missing you at Christmas dinner, Bets.”
Her eyes grew wet. She felt so emotional with him sometimes. Her heart could feel like a bunch of birthday balloons in one minute and raw meat in the next.Love.New love. She’d forgotten the highs and lows of it.
“Will you make love to me again?” she whispered.
He turned them onto their sides and pulled her leg over his hip. “Always.”
His kisses were tender and sweet and so filled with love, she had to clench her eyes shut so tears wouldn’t leak. This wasn’t how sex was supposed to be…or at least she didn’t remember it being like this.
Except this was what she needed, and he knew it. He always knew. The unhurried kisses turned into a slow rhythm as he finally entered her. Her body seemed to stretch in response, infused with a love it needed and craved—a love she always found in his arms.
When he turned off the light, he pulled her onto his body. “Go to sleep now.”
She cuddled into him, comforted by his touch as much as his warmth. Her mind started to replay what he’d said to her. He had a way with words, her Donal, and she loved remembering them. Yes, they needed to go away to Paris and explore what was next for them. She also needed to brainstorm some more ideas to solve the arts center’s problems. Tom MacKenna, Orla, and Mary weren’t finished. They’d shown they wanted to go another round by sabotaging the grant application. She had to find a way to stop their machinations completely.
His hand settled on the back of her head as if to calm her racing thoughts. She remembered her desire to enjoy the moment and told her mind to shut it.
She could think up a plan after the holidays.
