Irish Meadows (7 page)

Flushed from dancing and from watching Gil with Aurora Hastings, Brianna took a seat on one of the chairs and pushed a drooping curl off her forehead. She'd thought Colleen would be the only thorn in her side tonight. Now she had Aurora to contend with, as well.

Out of the corner of her eye, she became aware of Henry hovering at her side, as he had all evening. If only he'd leave her alone for five minutes.

She flashed him a smile. “All this dancing has me parched. Would you mind getting me something to drink? The refreshments are in the dining room.”

“Of course.” He gave a slight bow. “Don't go anywhere.”

She let out a huge sigh of relief as he retreated through the crowd. Many more guests had arrived after dinner for the evening's entertainment. She hardly recognized half the people here.

A shadow fell over her chair.

“Good evening, Miss O'Leary. May I have this dance?” The familiar lilt, exaggerated as Gil often did, made her pulse sprint.

She looked up into the dazzling blue eyes of the most handsome man in the room. In his charcoal-gray suit and striped cravat, Gil took her breath away. He waited with his hand outstretched.

She ran her tongue over her parched lips, half wishing Henry would return with her drink. Why was she hesitating? Isn't this what she'd been hoping for?

“Of course,” she said at last and placed her hand in his.

When she stumbled slightly, he caught her elbow to steady her.

“Th—thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

Gil guided her onto the floor, one hand to the small of her back where the tiny covered buttons of her bodice ended. The tempo of the music changed to a much slower song as they joined the rest of the dancers. She turned to face him and placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. Gil caught her other hand in his large, warm one. She almost jumped as he wrapped his left arm around her waist and pulled her close. With his face so near to hers, she didn't know how she'd remember any of the steps to the waltz. Every coherent thought seemed to have flown from her mind.

“I haven't had the chance to tell you how beautiful you look tonight.” His breath tickled the wisps of hair near her ear.

Her heart raced. That was the second time he'd called her beautiful since he'd come home. “Thank you. You're quite handsome yourself.” She struggled for something to say, something to take her mind off the warmth of his splayed fingers on her back, the scent of his cologne filling her senses with each intake of breath. “Are you enjoying all this attention?”

He chortled. “What do you think?”

She gave a light laugh. “I think you hate it, but you're putting up with it for Daddy's sake.”

He pulled back to look at her. “I forget how well you know me. I can never hide anything from you, can I?”

Her mouth went dry at the heat of his scrutiny. “You sound as though I can read your mind. Sometimes I wish I could.”

“Really? What is it you wish to know?”

The noise of the room faded into the background. Did she dare ask the question that plagued her—the nature of his feelings for her? Better not to tempt fate, for if he admitted to having more than brotherly affection for her, what would that do to her plans for the future?

The music stopped, and the couples around them slowed to a halt. Brianna's gaze remained locked with Gil's, his arms still firmly around her. How she wished she could stay in this position for the rest of the night. She bit her lip and took a reluctant step backward. “Thank you for the dance.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Brianna.” He took her gloved hand and pressed it to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers.

“There you are, Gilbert.” Colleen's falsely sweet voice raised the hairs on Brianna's neck. “Brianna, you mustn't monopolize the guest of honor. I believe it's my turn to dance with him.”

Sending a sharp glance her way, Colleen squeezed in between Brianna and Gil and captured Gil's hand. Brianna fought the rising tide of her temper. If there weren't so many people nearby, she'd have shoved Colleen into the potted plant behind them.

Gil threw her a silent look of apology as the music started and they swept off around the perimeter of the room.

Brianna set her chin and returned to the seating area. She kept a discreet eye on the pair, thankful to note that Gil did an admirable job of holding Colleen at a respectful distance. No matter what, Gil did not deserve to be a pawn in her sister's romantic games.

Colleen pouted as her waltz with Gil ended. Despite her attempts to press her body close to his during the song, he'd shown no reaction whatsoever. Never once had his gaze strayed to her
low-cut décolletage, nor had he tried to flirt with her. What was wrong with the man? Maybe Gil was better suited to become a priest than Rylan Montgomery.

“Thank you for the dance.” Gil gave a mock bow, then leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Try to behave yourself for the rest of the night—if that's possible.”

She wanted to stick out her tongue, but instead she gave a small curtsey. “Your loss, Mr. Whelan.” She whirled around to seek her next dance partner, bemoaning the lack of wealthy men in attendance tonight. Mama must have invited every single girl in the area—but had sadly under-invited the gentlemen.

“There you are, Miss O'Leary.” Jared Nolan pushed his way through the crowd to reach her. “I've been trying to catch up with you for a dance all evening.”

Tonight, dressed in a dark suit, his brown hair swept back off his forehead, Jared cut a very appealing figure. Gold cufflinks glittered at his sleeve as he held out his arm for her. Colleen gave an inward sigh. If only his family were richer. Yet, moving in the Nolans' social circles would mean the opportunity to meet other, more wealthy men. She needed to make the most of every connection available to her.

“Would you mind terribly if we postponed our dance and got some fresh air instead?” She peered at him through her lashes.

A sly smile slid over his features. “Even better.”

She took his arm, and they made their way to the French doors leading onto the balcony. On the way past a group of guests, the bold grin of Rylan Montgomery caught her eye, making her very glad to be on the arm of such an attractive man. Rylan nodded at her, and she raised her chin as they sailed past.

The cool evening breeze was a welcome relief after the crowded interior. Colleen led Jared along the balcony to a more secluded area where a low, stone wall overlooked her mother's famous rose gardens. An almost full moon beamed subtle rays of light over the grass and shrubs, giving ghostly illumination to
the marble statue of a woman in flowing robes, arms extended over a birdbath. Colleen breathed in deeply, hoping the soothing scent of her mother's flowers would calm the unrest in her soul.

As though sensing her tension, Jared draped a casual arm around her shoulders. “Are you enjoying yourself, my dear?”

“Of course. It's a wonderful evening.” The practiced line slid off her tongue. In truth, things had not gone at all as she'd hoped. She wasn't actually planning to marry Gil, but sharing a few kisses in a dark corner could prove exhilarating.

“You look so beautiful in this lighting.” Jared's husky voice whispered over her ear, sending shivers down her back.

The adventure she'd craved all evening became a sudden possibility. She half turned so that her face almost met his, giving him an open invitation. With a low growl, he lowered his mouth to hers. No longer the restrained gentleman, he pulled her tight against him and deepened the kiss. A thrill tickled Colleen's belly as the taste of whiskey filled her senses. At last, here was a man who took her seriously. This was no schoolboy kiss. This kiss hinted at dark pleasures she could only imagine. His hand roamed up her ribcage to brush her bare arm. She jumped, sudden panic seizing her limbs as awareness of just how secluded they were infiltrated her dazed mind. She wiggled to ease out of his embrace, but Jared only tightened his grip.

“I'm thinking Mr. O'Leary might not like you manhandling his daughter that way.” The Irish lilt held an undercurrent of steel.

Jared jerked back, releasing his tight hold on her. “Who the devil are you?”

A wave of relief washed over Colleen, so intense it left her knees weak, followed just as quickly by a flare of annoyance. Grateful for the darkness to hide her flaming cheeks, Colleen pulled herself upright, her head high. “This is Rylan Montgomery, a cousin visiting from Boston.” Before she could continue the introductions, Rylan moved closer with the stealth of a leopard.

“And who might you be, sir?” His dark brows met in a frown.

“Jared Nolan, Colleen's future husband.”

Colleen started at Jared's bold claim. Since when had they discussed marriage?

“I'm thinking the key word here is
future
.” Rylan pinned Colleen with a hard stare. “Some of the guests are leaving. I believe your parents are looking for you.”

She swallowed and dipped her chin. “Of course.”

Rylan waited for Jared to precede him into the house. He raised one eyebrow at Colleen as she smoothed her hair and dress. “I won't mention this to your parents—this time.”

Raw anger pulsed through her veins at the nerve of the man. “Aren't priests supposed to be nice?” she hissed.

His low laugh only irritated her further.

She needed to find a way to get this meddling priest out of their home—and, more importantly, out of her life.

G
ILBERT
,
THE
H
ASTINGSES
are leaving,” Mr. O'Leary called to Gil from the doorway of the parlor. “Come and walk them out with me.”

Gil stiffened at the clipped words. As usual, James issued an order then disappeared, expecting absolute compliance.

“Excuse me, Miss Miller,” Gil said to the brunette at his side. “It's been a pleasure speaking with you.”

Ignoring the disappointment on the girl's features, Gil pushed past a group of women near the doorway and made his way into the corridor. He released a long breath, grateful for an excuse to leave the over-warm room containing too many young ladies vying for his attention. At dinner, he'd assumed the evening would be quiet, with only a few friends and neighbors, but Mrs. O'Leary must have invited every eligible girl from two counties tonight.

Pasting a smile on his face, he approached Mrs. Hastings standing beside her husband. “So lovely to meet you, Mrs. Hastings. I hope you enjoyed the evening.”

“Very much, Mr. Whelan.”

He turned to Aurora and bent over her offered hand. “Thank
you for the dances, Miss Hastings. You are a most accomplished dancer.”

Her cheeks reddened. “As are you, Mr. Whelan. You must come and visit us at Belvedere now that Mother and I are here for the summer. Papa comes home on weekends, but during the week, we're quite lonely.” She nudged her mother slightly.

“Oh, yes. Of course. We'll call with a lunch date.”

Tension banded Gil's shoulders, but he fought to keep his expression unchanged. “That would be”—
dreadful—
“delightful, I'm sure.”

Arthur Hastings took his wife by the arm. “Dorothy, Aurora, please wait for me in the auto. I need a word with Gilbert.”

Now what?

Once the women left, Mr. Hastings turned to him. “James tells me you've recently obtained a Business degree from Columbia.”

“That's right, sir.”

“We could use a young man with your talents at our bank. Would you consider coming to work for me in the city?”

Gil blinked. He'd assumed the man wanted to speak to him about his daughter.

James stepped forward. “Sorry, Hastings. Gilbert has agreed to take over the books here. Between that and his work with the horses, I'm afraid he won't have a spare moment.”

The edge to Mr. O'Leary's voice surprised Gil. From the sound of it, his mentor expected him to dedicate the rest of his life to Irish Meadows. Gil would have to start dropping hints that this was a temporary position.

Mr. Hastings reached out and gave Gil's hand a firm shake. “Our loss. But if you ever want a change, please think of me. I can offer you a substantial salary. Not to mention that working in the city could be advantageous to your career.”

Gil swallowed. “I'll keep that in mind, sir. Thank you.”

Gil stood with Mr. O'Leary on the porch until the Hastings family's automobile drove out of sight.

“The nerve of the man—trying to steal you out from under my nose.” James scowled as he leaned against one of the white columns. “If I didn't need to be on his good side, I'd have had a few choice words for the rotter.”

Gil frowned. “I thought you liked him.”

James pulled a pipe out of his jacket pocket, followed by a box of matches. “Not particularly. But I respect his business sense.” He lit the pipe, drew in a long breath, and blew out a cloud of smoke. “Which brings me to the next order of business. It's obvious Aurora is smitten with you. I need you to begin a formal courtship as soon as possible.”

The evening breeze snaked the smoke across the porch. Gil shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to think of what to say.

“What's the matter? You've seen how attractive the girl is.”

“She's very attractive.”

“So? What's the problem? I'm not asking you to marry her—at least not yet.” He boomed out a hearty laugh. “We'll wait and see how much money I need first.”

Gil couldn't make himself laugh at the joke. Surely James didn't expect him to marry Aurora for financial gain. Gil loosened his tie and undid the confining top button of his shirt.

James sobered. “All kidding aside, we really need your help.” His stare bored into Gil. “I know you'd never want to see us lose our home.”

The last shred of resistance leeched away, and Gil's shoulders sagged. How could he refuse this man who'd given him so much? He sighed. “They've invited me to Belvedere. I'll make a point of going soon.”

The relief on Mr. O'Leary's face erased the worry lines from his forehead. He squeezed Gil's shoulder with a beefy hand. “Thank you, son. I knew I could count on you.”

Rylan clapped with all the other guests as the music ended. Cousin Kathleen was indeed accomplished on the piano. Right now, flushed with pleasure at the applause, she resembled a girl of twenty instead of a woman twice that age. In fact, if Rylan could picture her as a young woman, he imagined she'd look just like Colleen. He wondered if Kathleen had been as precocious as her daughter, or if she'd always been the devout, focused woman she was today.

Rylan frowned, picturing that beast, Jared Nolan, pawing at Colleen. Though she'd hissed like an angry cat when he'd broken up their little tryst, Rylan hadn't missed the relief that had crossed her features when Jared first released her.

Rylan pushed away from the wall, intent on finding another glass of delicious punch. As he made his way past the couples, he thanked the heavens above he didn't have to worry about such things. Being a priest had the advantage of making him unavailable and therefore un-noteworthy to the single females. He fingered his white collar, worn tonight for that very reason.

Rylan ducked into the dining room, happy to find it empty for the moment, and headed straight for the crystal punch bowl on the sideboard. He used the ladle to pour the beverage into a ridiculously small cup and swallowed it down in one gulp. How was a man to quench his thirst with these thimblefuls?

The tap of heels on the tiled floor made Rylan glance at the door, just as Colleen swept inside. She stopped cold upon seeing him.

“Hello again, Miss O'Leary.” He raised his empty cup in a salute.

“Hello.” She moved swiftly past him and chose a glass.

“Allow me.” Rylan picked up the ladle and poured the cherry-colored liquid into her cup, thankful he didn't spill a drop. “And where is your
future husband
at now?”

She sliced him with a glare of blue ice. “That's no concern of yours.”

He set the ladle back in the bowl. Something about this woman affected him on a deep level. His intuition told him that her prickly nature was a mask for some hidden pain, and everything in him wanted to ease that pain. He watched her take a quick sip, her hands unsteady.

He moved a step closer until their arms almost brushed. “It seems to me,” he said slowly, “that a man should treat his intended bride with far more respect than Mr. Nolan was showing you. You're an upstanding young woman from a good Christian family. I don't see why he'd be thinking it acceptable to behave in such a forward manner.”

She jutted her chin out. “Maybe I wanted him to.”

“Do you love him that much?”

“I don't love him at all.” Her eyes widened as she realized the mistake of her admission. She slammed the glass onto the table, red liquid sloshing over the sides to stain the white tablecloth. She glared at him, a mixture of pain and anger.

“Just leave me alone, Rylan Montgomery. I don't need any more interference in my life.”

Thank the Lord the guests had gone home and Brianna could finally head up to bed. Her feet ached in the new shoes she wasn't used to wearing. She couldn't wait to take them off and lie down.

At the foot of the daunting staircase, she paused to gain the fortitude to climb it. Or perhaps she was secretly waiting for Gil to say good night before he retired. Disappointment settled on her shoulders. Other than the one dance they'd shared, they hadn't had another chance to talk all night. Probably because he'd been too busy entertaining all the unmarried women who'd arrived.

Frustration pinched her heart as surely as the shoes pinched her toes. It seemed likely that Gil would never consider her as anything but a little sister. Yet the look in his eyes while they'd
danced—one that had made her pulse leap—led her to hope he might feel something more.

She scanned the hallway, and with no sign of Gil, took one last peek into the parlor. Only the maids remained behind to clean up. Perhaps he was with her father in the study. She tiptoed to the doorway and listened outside for voices. Only a thin sliver of light shining under the door told her someone was inside. Should she go in? Would she find Gil there and be able to share a few moments alone with him? The notion made her heart gallop in her chest.

At the sound of footsteps crossing the room, Brianna jumped back from the entrance.

The door swung inward, and her father appeared. “I thought I heard someone lurking about. What do you want, Brianna?”

She raised her chin with a forced smile. “Only to say good night, Daddy. It was a lovely evening.”

The lines on his forehead eased a fraction. “I'm glad. You and Henry seemed to enjoy yourselves.”

“Henry was very . . . attentive.”
More like smothering
.

“I was going to wait to speak to you about this, but now seems as good a time as any.” He motioned her to follow him inside.

She groaned inwardly. Why hadn't she just gone up the stairs? She could've been lying in the comfort of her bed with her feet raised in blessed relief. Instead, she stepped into the study and waited for her father to speak.

“Brianna, I think it's time we discussed your future.”

The soles of her feet throbbed. She lowered herself to one of the leather chairs facing her father's desk. Did she dare broach the subject of college? Or should she wait for a more opportune time, once Gil had had a chance to soften him toward the idea? “Yes, Daddy?”

“Tonight I gave Henry official permission to court you. It will make me very happy to join our family with the Sullivans.”

Brianna gripped the arm of the chair until her fingers ached.
The desire to please her father warred with the unfairness of his demand. “What about what I want?”

Her father's thick brows crashed together. “Why wouldn't you want to marry a fine man like Henry?”

The familiar shiver of dread skittered down her back. “It's just that I didn't intend to get married so young.”

He blinked, seeming thunderstruck. “What else would you do?”

She bit her lip. “I . . . I . . .”

“Don't stammer, girl. If you have something to say, spit it out.”

She stiffened until her spine felt as rigid as the poker standing beside the fireplace. “I want to continue my education and . . . go to college.”