The Brooding Stranger Page 14

  Her astute companion picked up on her despondency straight away. ‘You need a night out, my girl,’ she announced enthusiastically. ‘You need to have yourself some fun and forget about Gray O’Connell for a while. It’s Sean’s birthday tomorrow, and I’m throwing him a party here at the Cantina. I was going to ask if you wouldn’t mind playing some music, as well as joining us with a few friends in some dancing and a few laughs … how about it?’

  A party … Since when had the concept become so alien to her? Karen wondered. When had it become something to fear instead of an event she could enjoy?

  ‘Hey!’ Her emerald eyes twinkling mischievously, Liz reached forward to playfully slap her on the arm. ‘Don’t you dare tell me you can’t remember how to have fun. If you do, then I’ll just have to help refresh your memory in any way that I can—and I’m warning you … I don’t take any prisoners!’

  Gray swept into Karen’s sitting room that evening with a preoccupied glance that didn’t bode well, and as she shut the door on the seemingly perpetual icy rain that filled the night behind him she deliberately gave him one of her most welcoming smiles.

  ‘Hi. I see you’ve brought the rain with you again … must be a knack.’

  Crossing to the hearty blaze in the fireplace, as was his habit, Gray held out his hands to its warmth for a few moments before turning to reply, ‘Yeah, it’s a knack, all right. Bad weather seems to follow me around, right enough.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing.’ The smile he tried hard for made Karen want to weep. ‘Would you make me some coffee?’

  ‘Of course … I’ve been baking. I’ve made a Victoria sponge. Shall I cut you a slice?’

  ‘No cake. Just coffee … thanks’

  Moving to the door again, he shucked off his wet jacket and hung it on the hook there. About to turn away to the kitchen, Karen felt her heart skip a beat when he caught her and pulled her gently but firmly against his hard lean body. His hands were cold as winter, as were his sweater and jeans, and his handsome sculpted visage glistened with droplets of icy rain and his arresting silvery eyes crinkled at the corners.

  ‘No matter what the weather’s like outside, you always remind me of sunshine.’

  His voice was the sensual equivalent of smooth Irish whiskey and a crackling log fire. The disturbingly arousing combination made Karen melt. A muscle contracted in the side of his cheek just before he lowered his face to hers and kissed her. His lips were cool as a sheet of cold glass, but almost immediately heat and hunger broke through to warm them and his silken tongue swept the soft contours of her mouth as if she was fresh clean air he desperately needed to breathe.

  Karen’s knees all but crumpled. But, while she ached to lose herself in the magic of Gray’s kisses and the unfailing seductive touch of his hands, she sensed that beneath his raw and hungry need for her something had upset him. She wanted to know the reason. Slowing the kiss, gradually moving her lips away, she cupped his unshaven jaw between her hands, staring concernedly up into the long-lashed, depthless grey eyes.

  ‘Something’s bothering you. Won’t you tell me what it is?’ she urged softly.

  Sometimes it was hard for Gray to think straight when his gaze tumbled into Karen’s. It was so easy to just get lost in that flawless sea of blue for the longest time. But his heart constricted for a different reason at her question. Dropping his hands from around her slender shapely hips, he restlessly moved away. His chilled fingers tunnelled through his mane of damp black hair.

  ‘It’s the anniversary of my father’s death,’ he explained dully. ‘I visited his grave today.’

  ‘Oh, Gray. I would have come with you if you’d said.’

  ‘It wouldn’t have helped. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t forget what happened to him … the way he died out there alone on the beach. I revisit the scene over and over again in my mind, trying to make right how it ended, trying to come to terms and accept it—but how can it ever be right? It was a mess … a bloody mess! Living with the legacy of it just seems to get harder as time goes by … the pain doesn’t lessen. Maybe it’s because the old devil never forgave me for leaving? For not helping him keep the farm?’

  ‘That’s just a story, Gray … a fantasy. You don’t know that it’s true. Nobody can know what was in your father’s mind when he died. You’d returned, hadn’t you? You returned because you wanted to make amends … he must have known that.’

  It was true that Paddy had been glad to see him, Gray remembered. But it had only taken a few minutes before he’d glimpsed the defeat and disappointment in his eyes, too. How was he supposed to reconcile that?

  ‘I offered to set him up with a new farm,’ he said out loud to Karen. ‘Offered to pay for any amount of hired help to make it work. But he told me it was too late for that. He was too old and too tired, he said, and he didn’t have the heart for it any more.’

  ‘Even so, I can’t believe for a moment that your father would have wanted you to feel as wretched as you still do about his death. You did your best by him, Gray. He may have wanted you to stay and help run the farm, as his father had done before him, but that doesn’t mean it was the right thing for you. At the end of the day your father made his own choices and so did you. We all do. That’s not a crime.’

  Suddenly Karen was in front of him, her gaze spilling over with tenderness and concern. For the life of him Gray couldn’t think what he’d done to attract such heartfelt regard.

  ‘And I’m certain that whatever happened between you he’d want you to forget it and leave the past behind,’ she insisted. ‘Yes, leave it behind—so that you can live the present to the full. You have every means of doing that. You’ve got the resources and you’ve got your talent for painting. So why not concentrate on all the things you’ve got in your favour, make a new start and try to enjoy life again?’

  He so wanted to believe that what she said was possible. Part of him was furious with himself for wallowing … for not just counting his blessings and vowing to make the most of his life as Karen suggested. But the ghosts of the past wouldn’t easily let him go. Their clammy touch crawled up his spine whenever he was alone in that great mausoleum of a house, mocking him and making him despise the man he’d become. The only light on the horizon was the beautiful blue-eyed angel who stood in front of him. But what right did Gray have to embroil her in his troubles? Hadn’t she suffered enough with her own tragic loss?

  The great need to do something wonderful for her, to do something purely for her enjoyment and pleasure, arose inside him again.

  Catching her hands, he tugged her towards him. ‘Come away with me for a few days.’

  ‘What?’ Her expression was genuinely stunned.

  ‘Come away with me to Paris. I have an apartment there, in the Rue Saint-Honoré. I haven’t been there in quite a while, but there’s an agency that takes care of it for me. All I have to do is make a phone call.’

  ‘You have a place in Paris?’

  ‘I do. We’ll go tomorrow. What do you say?’

  ‘Tomorrow?’ she echoed.

  To Gray’s immense disquiet, Karen freed her hands, then crossed her arms over the front of her dress. The material was a soft plum-coloured jersey and it fitted her eye-catching figure to perfection, hugging her breasts and hips just as he longed to mould his hands to them himself. But as she studied him her glance was torn.

  ‘I can’t go tomorrow.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’ve had an invitation. An invitation that I’ve already accepted.’

  ‘And who might that be from?’

  ‘Liz Regan. She’s throwing a party at the café tomorrow night.’

  Unable to conceal the crushing disappointment that welled up inside him, Gray knew his reply sounded accusing and unreasonable. ‘So you’d rather go to this party than come away with me?’

  ‘I didn’t say that. But if I make a promise I like to keep it. Liz also asked me to sing. Anyway, I’ll go and make your coffee
.’

  As she turned towards the kitchen Gray followed her. ‘What’s it in aid of, this party that you’re so keen to attend?’

  Straight away he saw the scarlet tinge that flooded into her otherwise pale cheeks.

  ‘It’s to celebrate her brother Sean’s birthday,’ she answered, coming to a sudden standstill before him.

  Just the sound of the other man’s name on her lips cut him to the quick. Inside his chest, his heart rioted. ‘What is it about Sean Regan that you find so irresistible?’ he demanded with a snarl.

  ‘I don’t find him irresistible. Why do you always have to jump to such ridiculous conclusions?’

  ‘Obviously I wasn’t invited as well?’

  The slender well-shaped brows on the beautiful face before him lifted in surprise. ‘Would you have gone if you had been?’

  ‘Of course I wouldn’t. But it still galls me to think that you’ll be there, singing and helping to entertain that young pup, when you could have gone to Paris with me instead.’

  ‘You’re being completely unreasonable, and I’m sure you know it. Why can’t we go to Paris the day after tomorrow?’

  Gray shrugged, unable to keep a lid on his temper. ‘Because I’ve already decided I want to go tomorrow. I’m not going to change my mind simply to pander to the whims of a woman!’ he answered furiously. ‘The sooner you realise that, the better off we’ll be.’

  ‘Is that why your previous girlfriend Maura walked out on you?’ Karen came back at him, her skin flushed and her blue eyes glinting. ‘Because you were so selfish and unreasonable that she finally couldn’t tolerate living with you any longer? ‘

  The shock of her words was like iced water being poured down his back. Not because Gray had even cared that Maura had left, but because Karen was more or less telling him that she wasn’t surprised that a woman would leave him. Who had told her about Maura? he wondered. He quickly dismissed it as unimportant. Half the town would know his sorry history. But it still stung that the woman he respected more than any other clearly thought him a poor bargain. That hurt more than a thousand scores across his heart.

  ‘Forget the damn coffee,’ he muttered, grabbing his leather jacket off the coat hook and flinging angrily out through the door into the bitterly cutting chill of the rainy night.

  Dressing for the party the following evening, Karen went over and over again in her mind the way Gray had stormed out of the cottage the previous night. At first she’d mentally cursed the rash, angry words she’d thrown at him about Maura, had wanted to chase after him and tell him how sorry she was. She didn’t mean it, she’d say, but he had goaded her into retaliating when he’d said he didn’t pander to the whims of a woman. Was she so unimportant and inconsequential to him that any suggestions or preferences she might have were instantly to be dismissed?

  Calming herself down, she had been struck that maybe Gray needed to mull over the idea that he was selfish and unreasonable. It couldn’t hurt to stand her ground and hope he would reflect and take stock, could it? But what if she’d gone too far? What if he decided to end what they had there and then and wouldn’t see or speak to her ever again?

  In the middle of applying her lipstick in front of the bathroom mirror, Karen suddenly felt quite nauseous.

  Blinking back the hot tears that surged into her eyes, she wished she wasn’t going to the party—wished she’d declined or, if not that, agreed to go to Paris with Gray and explained later to Liz why she hadn’t shown up for Sean’s birthday. Blast! Now she’d have to do her make-up all over again. She looked like a sad clown, with black mascara streaking down her face. Yesterday had been the anniversary of his father’s death, she recalled painfully. And she’d heartlessly left him alone with his grief, his guilt, and no doubt his self-loathing, too.

  The groan that left her lips might have been that of some wounded animal. The idea that she’d never see him again, or that he might pass her in the street or down on the beach and ignore her, made her feel physically ill. Karen had broken her heart over Ryan’s sudden unexpected death, but her grief then was nothing to the agony that gripped her now at the idea of losing Gray.

  He’d spent the night in front of the fire, brooding and drinking whiskey. Eventually he’d succumbed to a heavy troubled sleep in the armchair, and woken in the early hours of the morning with his body aching as if he’d been trampled and kicked by a mule and to the cold grey ashes of the fire. Making his way upstairs to bed, he’d yanked the covers over him and cursed himself soundly for behaving like some ill-mannered oaf last night. When he’d recalled Karen’s angry, crestfallen face when he’d made that infantile comment about not pandering to a woman’s whims he’d had the blackest moment, feeling certain he’d screwed up the one chance he had to bring some peace and happiness back into his life.

  Getting up and moving across the room, he had opened the windows wide and gulped in some long deep breaths of the frosted early-morning air. At last he’d managed to wrench his thoughts away from his tormenting introspection and had found himself mulling over his painting instead. When the surprising urge to try and rebuild his life and make a fresh start had come unexpectedly to him he’d been filled with such a surge of renewed energy that he had urgently got dressed and gone straight to his studio …

  ‘Thanks very much.’ Gray shook the stout sandy-haired picture-framer’s callused hand at the front door as he prepared to leave. ‘You’ve done a grand job.’

  ‘Any time, Mr O’Connell. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, so it has. If there’s ever any more paintings you’d like framed, don’t hesitate to give me a call.’ The man thoughtfully scratched his head beneath his flat dog-tooth cap. ‘That’s some talented artist who’s painted those pictures. Are you acquainted with him or her, by any chance?’

  ‘Why? Do you want to buy one?’

  ‘Sure, I wish I could afford to, Mr O’Connell, but a picture-framer’s wages don’t stretch to buying great works of art, I’m afraid!’

  Suppressing a highly amused guffaw … great works of art, indeed …! Gray reflected on the surprisingly fulfilling morning he’d had, selecting the paintings he wanted framed. At times he’d wrestled with displaying them at all, but there’d been other times when Karen’s heartfelt encouragement not to hide his work away had spurred him on. Why had it taken him so long to realise that she was right about that? She’d been right about a lot of things, he reflected ruefully. He’d had the worst night he’d had in ages after leaving her last night—deservedly so. When he saw her next he would tell her why.

  It had been midmorning when he’d rung the local picture-framers and told them he wanted to employ them straight away. After being told they had a list of commissions to see to before they could get to him, Gray had cut through the ‘Well, now, I don’t know …’ and ums and ahs and offered them an eye-watering fee they couldn’t refuse.

  All in all it had been a good day’s work, and he couldn’t believe the time when he finally glanced at his watch. It was almost time for dinner, and going by the delicious aroma wafting out of the kitchen Bridie was making one of her tantalising and hearty stews. Walking past the line of paintings he’d hung in the long downstairs corridor that led to the kitchen at the end, he glanced at them critically, but with some satisfaction, too, as he passed.

  What would Karen think about what he’d done? he mused. She’d been hovering on the edges of his mind all day, and every time he conjured up her beautiful face Gray’s gut would painfully clench with longing. He ached to hold and kiss her and tell her how sorry he was for being such an out-and-out swine—so sorry that he was willing to beg her forgiveness if she seemed hesitant to give it. At any rate, after eating his meal he fully intended on going down into the town to discreetly set up a watch on Liz’s Cantina, wait for Karen to leave the party, and hopefully convince her to come home with him tonight. It hardly bore contemplating that she might reject his plea and tell him to go to hell.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE pa
rty was still in full swing when Karen realised that she’d had enough and wanted to leave. She’d enjoyed singing the uplifting tunes she’d performed for Sean, his sister and assembled friends, but as for dancing and engaging with the other guests in conversation—well, she’d found that increasingly hard when her heart was weighed down with anxious musings about Gray.

  Weaving her way through the hotly perspiring bodies gyrating to the latest hip-hop sounds, she located Liz near the back of the room, with her Spanish boyfriend and chef Jorge, and started to make her apologies.

  ‘You’re not leaving?’ the redhead exclaimed, clearly disappointed. ‘It’s not even late yet, and tomorrow’s Sunday. You can lie in all day if you want. Come on, my pretty little songbird, have another drink and let your hair down for once.’

  She could see that her vivacious employer in her pink satin party dress and flashing green earrings was more than a little intoxicated as she leaned against her well-built Spanish boyfriend, and Karen was quite glad that she’d stuck with fruit juice and hadn’t succumbed to alcohol—apart from champagne to wish Sean a happy birthday. Aside from the fact she had to drive herself home to the cottage, she was determined to keep a clear head to think about her future. Serious misgivings about the wisdom of staying in Ireland were arising—misgivings she couldn’t deny.

  She was no longer sure it was the best thing for her, because if Gray ended their relationship then what was the point? She honestly didn’t believe she could cope with bumping into him, knowing the passion they’d shared was no more. Or—worse—maybe seeing him with someone else.