His Wicked Celtic Kiss (20 page)

“You mean he's not serious. Julie, you're falling for this man. I can see it on your face. You never could hide anything from me. I knew when you were a teenager you hid candy and cookies and such. You have that same look on your face now.”

Julie laid the peeler on the counter. “You
knew
? You never said a word in all these years.”

Her mother kept peeling the potatoes, not breaking her stride. “Even with all those healthy meals I prepared, you never lost weight. I found wrappers one day under your bed, a few you'd missed. Maybe I should've confronted you with it, but nagging you about your weight was not going to help. You had to reach that conclusion on your own. And you did.” She cut the peeled potato in quarters and tossed them into the nearby stock pot. “I was so proud of you when you lost all that weight, your father and I both. And you're keeping it off. It seems you have to come to your own conclusion about your feelings for Lorcan, too.”

Julie reached for peeler again. She glanced toward the living room. The sounds of male laughter and football wafted from down the hall. “Mom, it doesn't matter what I feel. He's leaving in January and returning to Ireland. I'll enjoy my time with him, then, move on.”

Her mother squeezed her hand. “You've always insisted on standing on your own two feet. You wouldn't let your father and I furnish your apartment or help with the rent. A little stubborn maybe, but determined. You should tell him how you feel.”

“I can't. Maybe I'm stubborn and yes, I am determined. I'm determined to not be hurt.”

“Oh, my dear. You're going to be hurt whether you tell him or not. You're in love with him.”

Her mother spoke the truth. She loved him and the pain felt real, acute, and cutting. She couldn't tell him. She
was
afraid. Ever since her overweight teen days with the teasing and the humiliation, she had protected her heart. She never should've let things progress this far with Lorcan. It was too late. To say goodbye to him now or in January, it would hurt just the same. Better to embrace the time she had left with him. She met her mother's gaze. “Yes, I am. I love him very much. But I'll be fine, Mom, I promise. I've grown stronger over the years, and even more so these last few months.”

It was true. But the truth could be a cold comfort.

• • •

After his second piece of pumpkin pie, Lorcan had to admit he felt well stuffed. Julie's mother had been attentive by keeping his plate, wine glass, and now his coffee mug filled. He had to admit, he was having a good time. He genuinely liked Julie's parents. They made him feel welcome. He even enjoyed watching football with Charlie, even though it confused the hell out of him even after an explanation of the rules. Give him the Bohemians in the League of Ireland, which was his kind of football. As the ladies rose to clear the table, Lorcan automatically did the same, as it was something ingrained from childhood. All his siblings pitched in after a meal had completed. Charlie clasped his shoulder. “Come with me, Lorcan. I have some fine Scotch I would like you to try.”

Charlie Denison was none too subtle. He wanted to talk to him alone, and Lorcan could guess about what.
My intentions.
Shite, all fathers wanted to know that question from any man their daughter might bring home. He'd expected this.

He followed Charlie into his study and he closed the door behind Lorcan. Walking to the bar area set up on the credenza, he motioned to the leather wing chairs next to the fireplace. “Take a seat, Lorcan.”

Lorcan's mouth quirked slightly. “Will this be like the Spanish Inquisition then, Charlie?”

The man brought over a Scotch to him, his face lit up in a smile. “Maybe not quite that bad, unless you mean the Monty Python version. You are in the comfy chair. Or, I could poke you with the soft cushions.”

Lorcan laughed at Charlie mentioning the comedy skit. “Wonderful, a man after my own heart. Love Python myself.”

“Got the complete DVD set. Maybe later we can watch a few episodes. But first, I do have something to get out of the way. About Julie.”

Lorcan looked down into the amber liquid in the crystal Glencairn glass. “Ah. Ask away, Charlie.”

Charlie Denison sat across from Lorcan and took a slow sip. “She gave us the ‘just friends' line, but there is more going on here, isn't there?”

Lorcan bit the inside of his cheek. “Depends on your definition of ‘more.' I care for Julie very much.” He paused. He wasn't going to tell the man he was shagging his daughter on a regular basis and that he feckin' enjoyed it. Beyond anything he experienced before. Or that his feelings were confused and muddled and probably had moved far beyond the caring stage. No bloody way. He had a hard enough time accepting these feelings let alone speaking them aloud. To anyone.

Charlie leaned in and stirred the embers in the fireplace with the poker. Placing it back in the tool stand, he glanced at Lorcan. “All I ask is that you don't hurt her. She hasn't much experience with men. As you saw from the photo albums I showed you earlier, Julie had a weight problem through most of her teens and early twenties and experienced many hurtful episodes, especially in high school. See, it may be old-fashioned, but we're a close family. Her mother and I are used to our daughter confiding in us with complete honesty. Yet she is being awfully close-mouthed about you, which makes me wonder how serious this is.”

Lorcan threw back a mouthful of the Scotch, letting it burn a trail down his throat. This was the second person that had warned him in not so many words not to hurt Julie. First Veronica and now Charlie. A flicker of annoyance came to life deep inside him. Did he look or act like that much of an uncaring, unfeeling bastard? He had to wonder. He certainly made sure he acted like a charming man gliding through life without a care in the world. He had to admit he did care about Julie, and far more than he had let on to Charlie. Regardless, he fought back his aggravation and formed a reply. “I'm leaving in January and returning to Ireland. Only here on a temporary work visa. I've no plans of making America my permanent home. Julie knows this and accepts it. We are together until I leave. I would never intentionally hurt her. I'm fond of her.”

Charlie frowned and shook his head. “I see. I'm sorry to hear that. I like you, Lorcan. I think you and Julie are good for each other. I've probably said too much as it is. But you claim to be fond of my daughter, yet you're going to leave her. How exactly do you expect that will not hurt her?”

Lorcan noticed the serious tone and look Charlie gave him. He didn't want to think on how his leaving would upset Julie. Lorcan exhaled.
Jaysus.
Honestly, he didn't understand it himself. He may even be part way in love with Julie if he ever decided to be honest with himself for once. But he could not let it go any further. He had nothing to offer any woman. Or maybe it was the same old shite he told himself over and over whenever he began to feel too much. Be damned if he would relay all that to her da. Shocking enough he had finally admitted to himself that he ran away from emotions or from feeling ... anything. He gave a careless shrug. “I care for Julie, but that's as far as it goes. It's as far as it will ever go.”

Charlie gave a sorrowful shake of his head and took a sip of his drink. The words Lorcan spoke left a bitter taste in his mouth. What a feckin' lie.

• • •

This is what I get for eavesdropping.
Julie stood outside the closed door of her father's study. The temptation had been too great. She wished now she had kept walking up the stairs. Well, she knew the truth. Lorcan did not love her. A part of her knew this, but to hear he merely “cared for her and that's as far as it would go” and to tell her father of all people was a kick to the gut. Her tightly clenched fist rested above her heart as if to stem the roar of pain. It had been a mistake to bring Lorcan here. She'd never brought a guy to meet her parents before, so of course they were going to think there was something serious going on.
Stupid, stupid girl.
She couldn't listen to any more. A hollowness had opened up inside her. The hurt cut deep, but in all honesty, Lorcan's words merely acknowledged what she knew to be true. Temporary. Fleeting. No promises. She had agreed to those terms, so she had no right to sulk or complain. However, a little piece of her held a glimmer of hope that things between them had solidified into a deeper commitment. Guess not, on his part at least. On hers? Yeah. She hoped. She wished. All for naught.

She slowly walked back toward the kitchen. Drowning her sorrows in KP duty seemed a good way to try and forget what she heard. Julie could never admit her feelings to him now, as the humiliation of being rejected would be too much to bear.

Or would it? Maybe the time had arrived to stand up and demand what she wanted. To declare her feelings and take a chance just as she had with wanting more out of working at the bakery. This would take some thinking as she was not one to run pell-mell into any situation and Lorcan was not a man to be pushed into anything against his will. She had learned that much about him. Throwing her shoulders back, she strode toward the kitchen with a renewed vigor of confidence.

• • •

Later that night, lying in one of the guest rooms, Julie stared at the ceiling as sleep was slow in coming. She'd put on a brave face for the rest of the evening as they all played a rousing game of Scrabble, sharing laughter and coffee. Her parents were charmed by Lorcan. Who wasn't? What kept her awake and counting the ceiling tiles? Why Lorcan even agreed to come with her to her parents if he didn't “more than care”? Did he want a damned turkey dinner that bad? Who knows, maybe he did.

He had given her a gentle goodnight kiss before disappearing into the room across the hall. It held such promise ... of what? Sex? They had that. Oh yeah, did they have that. She may not have a lot of experience, but she knew what they shared was rare. Lorcan himself admitted it. Why
couldn't
love grow out of the sizzling physical heat they created? If only it did—she would have it all. Everything she had ever wanted. The man of her dreams. How cruel was fate to put him within reach only to tease her with what could be. Well, she could do one of two things. Break it off and walk away, nurse her broken heart and feel sorry for herself. Or when the opportunity presented itself, tell Lorcan how she really felt and let the chips fall where they may. Damn him for being such a stubborn man. She wiped away a lone tear from her cheek angrily. She'd spent too many nights crying in this bed. She'd be damned if she would cry over him, too.

A loud noise pulled her from her maudlin thoughts. Julie cocked her head. Perhaps her father was watching television. He always cranked up the volume. No, he and her mother went to bed thirty minutes ago. Julie sat upright. Someone yelled at the top of their lungs.
Lorcan.
She swung her legs across the side of the bed and jumped up, dashing into the hall.

“Noooo! Drima, run! Hide!”

Her parents were already standing in the hallway, looking toward Lorcan's door where the cries had come from. Her father was in his undershirt and pajama pants, her mother clutching her housecoat closed.

“What is it?” her mother questioned worriedly.

Lorcan was screaming now, a torturous, blood-curdling roar of sheer terror and dread.

Julie clasped the handle on Lorcan's door. “Go back to bed. He has nightmares, I'll handle this.”

“Let us know if you need us, Julie,” her father said, concern lacing his voice. She nodded.

Julie quietly turned the handle and entered the room. Lorcan thrashed about the bed, the sheets and blankets in a tangle on the floor. The room was in complete darkness, but she dare not turn on a light. She hurried to the window and opened the blind, so that the room was illuminated with bright moonlight. His arms flailed about, and he knocked over the small bedside lamp. He muttered angrily, “We could've saved them!” Then he cried out, a ragged howl of pain and anguish. Julie sat on the bed. She could see by the moonlight a slick sheen of sweat covered his body. The look of utter torment on his face broke her heart.

Suddenly, he sat up straight in bed, scaring the life out of her. His eyes were wide open, but he seemed firmly in the grip of his night terror. His chest heaved. “Bodies, butchered ... blood. Death.”

Julie grabbed his broad shoulders and shook him hard. “Wake up, Lorcan. You're having a nightmare.”

But his gorgeous Cortina eyes, the ones that had looked at her at various times with such tenderness and passion, were now filled with dismay. She forced his eyelids closed with her hand while still trying to push him back down on the bed. It was like trying to move a brick wall. “Wake up, Lorcan. You're here with me, Julie. At my parents' home in Philly.” She spoke in a firm voice, but took care to keep the words gentle as to not alarm him.

Finally, Lorcan flopped back down on the bed. He turned on his side and began to cry.

Julie's heart contracted in pain and the sight of his heart-wrenching vulnerability. Clasping his shoulder, Julie turned him on his back. She reached by the bed for the box of facial tissue, grabbed a handful and wiped the cold sweat and hot tears from his tense, handsome face. “It's all right. You're awake now. You're safe,” she crooned gently as she slowly wiped away the fear.

He looked her at last, the fog clearing from his eyes. “Julie?”

“Yes.” She smoothed the wet, tangled hair back from his anxious face. She climbed into bed next to him, curled him into her embrace and stroked his hair. Even though cold sweat covered his body, Julie could feel the deeper warmth of him. The man was like a wood stove, radiating a raw, never-ending heat that seeped through to the very marrow of her bones. Comforting. How she would love this nearness and reassuring heat the rest of her days. He was like living flame, flickering with an incandescent glow that could ignite the pilot light on a gas furnace.