The Brooding Stranger Page 17

  ‘I mean that I want to marry you, my gorgeous girl … Will you have me as your husband?’

  ‘Yes, Gray … I will!’

  Eagerly she bent her head to meet his lips in a passionately tender kiss, and although their loving was no less intense it was also infused with the joy and wonder of finding each other after all the heartache and pain they had endured before they’d met—and gratitude, too, that they’d both been given this second chance.

  Later, lying in the cavernous bed beside Karen as she slept, her lovely golden hair spread out on the pillow beneath her, Gray deliberately elected to stay awake. It was extraordinarily peaceful, lying there with the sound of the rain glancing off the windows, and he just wanted to savour these precious moments when he was on the brink of joining the land of the living again. He’d stay awake all night if he had to, just to experience the joy of watching the woman next to him, knowing that she’d agreed to be his wife and wouldn’t be saying goodbye as he had once feared she might. No more would he ask himself what he’d done to deserve such good fortune he vowed. Instead he resolved simply to be grateful and count his blessings.

  Before his mother had become so ill had she and his father felt this way about each other? Gray wondered. As if nothing could add to their quota of joy because they had each other? Had his father lain in bed beside his mother, as his son was doing now with Karen, and thought how beautiful and perfect she was and what a blessed miracle it would be were they to have a child together?

  A jolt went through his heart. He hadn’t protected Karen when he’d so passionately made love to her earlier, and she hadn’t mentioned it. Would she mind if she fell pregnant? he worried. Because suddenly he knew that he desperately longed for children of his own. To have the chance to be a father … a good father … and pass on some of the bravery and devotion that his own father had shown him—despite Paddy’s ultimate disappointment that Gray hadn’t followed in his footsteps with the farm. That would be something he could really be proud of.

  He sighed and stretched, turning back to observe what looked to be an intriguing little smile playing on his lover’s lips as she slept. She’d lost that air of sadness and vulnerability she’d had when they first met, Gray realised, and for that he was hugely grateful. He almost couldn’t bear the thought of her being unhappy—not even for a moment. Now, as he studied her, he didn’t think that she would mind carrying his baby. And if she wanted to pursue her singing career then he would make sure that she had the chance to do that, too. His wife-to-be deserved everything her beautiful heart desired. He’d never known a woman who had so much love to give. There would be more than enough for them all—him and their children.

  Settling down at last, he wrapped her in his arms and willingly surrendered to sleep.

  Karen was pacing the floor again, one hand pressed into the small of her back to try and ease the ache that had started that morning and still hadn’t subsided, even though it was now late afternoon. It had obviously crossed her mind that it might be the onset of labour, but as the pain hadn’t exactly intensified or grown worse she had her doubts. No. It was simply that she was heavily pregnant, felt as if she was about to pop, and wouldn’t sit down and rest.

  Much to her friend Liz’s concern, she wouldn’t heed any of the advice that either her or the full-time maternity nurse/midwife that Gray had hired to stay with them regularly offered.

  Now Margaret—the plump but agile nurse—had gone to make them all tea, and Karen anxiously watched the clock, hoping that her husband would get home soon from his trip to Dublin. If she did go into labour any time soon, she wanted him there.

  He’d gone there yesterday, to make a guest appearance at the gallery that was displaying his work, and because of her heavily pregnant state she hadn’t been able to accompany him. The gallery was a highly prestigious one, and she’d told him to mind his p’s and q’s and not get shirty with anybody. She knew when Gray was tense his patience was apt to get a little short. It was quite likely that he would be tense now, as Karen had just discovered that Margaret had phoned him on his mobile around lunchtime, when he’d been on the road driving home, to helpfully inform him that his wife was showing definite signs of going into labour any time now, and that he should get home sooner rather than later.

  ‘Come and sit down, you stubborn woman.’

  Suddenly Liz was there beside her again, her expression concerned, but annoyed, too. The women had become the best of friends over the past year, and Karen sensed that she understood her more than any other female she’d ever known. The enterprising café owner had recently become engaged to the lovely Jorge, and frequent visits to Karen and Gray’s beautifully refurbished home were becoming quite a feature, so that Liz could eagerly discuss her plans for their wedding in June.

  Allowing the other woman to lead her to a sumptuous couch, not far from the crackling fire in the elegantly stunning Adam fireplace, Karen finally gave in and sat down. Even as she accepted a welcome cup of tea from Margaret she heard Gray’s key in the door—the door that was near slammed off its hinges as her husband strode anxiously into the drawing room, his coat undone and its shoulders covered in a melting dusting of icy November rain. Her heart quickening—as it always did whenever he was near—Karen smiled up at him, not hiding her relief that he’d returned.

  ‘You always bring the rain,’ she joked. ‘Lucky for me that rain is one of my favourite things.’

  His handsome face serious, Gray ignored the remark and dropped down in front of her as the nurse and Liz helpfully left the room. Removing the cup and saucer she was holding, he left it on a small side table to take her hands in his and hold them.

  ‘Are you all right? You’re not in labour yet? I panicked when Margaret phoned me.’

  ‘I wish she hadn’t done that, but she was only thinking of me. She knows how much I want you to be there. I hope you didn’t drive too fast?’

  ‘I wouldn’t take a foolish risk like that, and thankfully the roads were clear all the way home. So, tell me, has anything started yet?’

  ‘No. I’m not in labour yet—and apart from feeling a little like a floundering whale I’m well and happy.’

  ‘That’s my girl.’

  He kissed her then, and Karen tasted the rain and the wind on the sculpted lips that she so adored. For a moment she wished that she could go down to the ocean with him, so that she could taste the scent of the sea on them too. But right now she would settle for lying down beside him in their bed and having him hold her. She’d never told him how afraid she was of giving birth … how terrified she was that something might go wrong. But in truth she was more scared about the effect such an event might have on him, rather than on herself.

  ‘How did it go at the reception? I’ll bet the handsome guest artist had all the well-heeled Dublin ladies swooning over him!’

  ‘If he did,’ Gray replied dryly, ‘he didn’t notice, because his mind was on his beautiful wife back at home, about to go into labour with their first child any time now. Besides, my female admirers are serious connoisseurs of art, I’ll have you know. Not the type of women who swoon easily.’

  ‘Unless they’ve all got white sticks, I don’t believe that for a second. Anyway, I don’t think it’s going to happen today, my love. Me going into labour, I mean.’ Lightly tracing his clean-cut jaw, already showing signs of a five o’clock shadow because he was so dark, Karen shrugged. ‘Things will probably kick off tomorrow.’

  ‘In that case you’d better just rest and take things easy. No doubt you’ve been driving poor Margaret and Liz crazy, ignoring their advice to sit down. Right, then.’ He got to his feet and slipped his black cashmere coat from his shoulders. ‘I’m going to see if one of them will take pity on your poor husband and make me a cup of coffee.’

  ‘They’ll probably fight over the chance. By the way—did I tell you how proud I am of you? Now everyone who sees your paintings will know what a great talent you are. Anyway, I—Ohh …’ A breathtaking, sharp s
lash of pain reverberated through Karen’s insides.

  Immediately Gray dropped down in front of her again, touching his palm concernedly to her cheek.

  ‘Karen? ‘

  ‘I’m okay,’ she breathed, starting to smile. A second, even more acute pain froze the expression on her face.

  If this was the onset of labour wasn’t there supposed to be a longer interval between each contraction? she thought. She sent up a swift prayer that everything would go well, refusing to believe that disaster would strike at the eleventh hour and rob them of their longed-for dream of a healthy child.

  ‘You’d better get Margaret.’ She grimaced as the pain started to subside, already in anxious anticipation of the next one.

  ‘Everything’s going to be fine, I promise. I don’t want you to worry,’ Gray soothed her. ‘I’m going to be with you every step of the way, remember?’

  Planting a loving kiss at the corner of her mouth, he shot up and hurried into the kitchen, calling out for the nurse as he went.

  His wife’s labour had been intense and fast—too fast to make it to the hospital, even. Instead, Karen had given birth to their beautiful baby son at home.

  Gray had thanked God more than once that he’d hired a midwife to stay at the house with them, to be on hand in case of just such an eventuality, despite the teasing he had suffered for going to such measures. Now, as he cradled his son—Padraic William, as he and Karen had named him: Padraic after Gray’s father and William after hers—he couldn’t stop inspecting the awesome perfection of the infant swaddled in his soft woollen blanket. Right now his baby son had a thatch of silky black hair and dark blue eyes, and if that stunning combination should remain then he would be a heartbreaker for sure.

  A tumult of feelings swamped him as Gray sat there in the armchair by the bed, his elated gaze vying between looking at Karen—still breathtakingly lovely, even after the drama of her unexpectedly quick and intense labour—and his precious baby son. And as he sat there, happier and more content than he had ever felt in his life, he could almost be persuaded that he sensed the loving spirits of his parents come around him and smile lovingly down at him and his beautiful new family, as if giving them their blessing.

  ‘What are you smiling about, hmm?’ Leaning towards him from the bed, Karen was stroking her fingers tenderly down Gray’s forearm, her bright blue eyes looking tired but happy.

  ‘What do you think I’m smiling about, you clever, beautiful girl? I’m the luckiest man in the world and I can’t quite believe it.’

  ‘Then you’d better believe it, Gray O’Connell, because I’m sure I didn’t imagine the agony I went through to present you with your son!’

  That wiped his next thought clean out of his head, and he remembered his wife’s face, contorted with pain, and the angry words flung at him at the height of her agony. ‘Was it very bad?’ he asked quietly, his voice slightly gruff with emotion.

  She pushed back his unruly hair with her fingers and smiled lovingly. ‘There was nothing bad about it, my love. I was only teasing. Every ounce of discomfort was more than worth it to produce our lovely little man. He’s adorable, isn’t he?’ She moved her hand to let it rest lovingly on the baby’s head.

  ‘He is. Absolutely adorable.’

  ‘And so is his father,’ Karen added, her blue eyes now moist with tears.

  ‘Don’t cry, sweetheart, or you’ll have me bawling my eyes out, too—and that’s not a good look for a man with a reputation like mine for being mysterious and forbidding. By the way, I’ve got a gift for you.’

  Clutching the sleeping baby securely to his chest, Gray reached into his trouser pocket for the envelope he’d put there for safekeeping earlier. It was slightly crumpled as he handed it to her, and his accompanying grin was rueful.

  ‘I should have made a better presentation of it than that. tied it up with a big pink bow, or something … but I’m afraid I’m not very good at that sort of thing.’

  ‘You may not be good at tying big pink bows, but there’s a long list of other things that you are good at. You shouldn’t have bought me another gift. I’ve already got everything I could possibly want—and I mean you and little Padraic.’

  When she carefully tore open the envelope, lifted out the officially printed sheet of paper inside and scanned the written contents, Karen shook her head and stared at Gray in disbelief. ‘You’re giving me your father’s cottage and the fifty acres of land surrounding it? Oh, Gray! It’s too much—it’s far too generous.’

  ‘No, it’s not. Besides, you more than deserve it—and you love that place. It’s just a small gesture from me, to thank you for all the joy and happiness you’ve brought me. You can renovate or rebuild, and I thought you might like to use some of the land to build your own recording studio on. I’ve already spoken to a specialist architect, and as soon as you’re feeling up to it we can drive over there and you can start making plans for what you’d like. I know how important your music is to you, my love.’

  ‘Gray O’Connell?’

  ‘Yes, Mrs O’Connell?’

  ‘I want you to bring our baby and get into bed beside me right now!’

  ‘If I must.’ With a theatrical waggle of his eyebrows, Gray got to his feet and did exactly as his wife ordered …

  All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

  All Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises II BV/S.à.r.l. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  ® and TM are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

  First published in Great Britain 2011

  by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited,

  Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

  © Maggie Cox 2011

  ISBN: 978-1-408-92576-8

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Excerpt

  About the Author

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Copyright