After the Storm (11 page)

The words stung, for that was the very crime Mrs. Rafferty had been guilty of. “No!”

“Then stay and take care of the household. That will free me to catch up on my work in the fields. I'm behind because of caring for you.”

It made sense. She would have a place to live, and her children would be with her and well cared for. Quietly she asked, “How much will you pay me?”

“Rhea gets fifty cents a week. I'll give you the same, as well as your room.”

“That's too generous!”

“Do you want to accept it or not?”

Cailin could not miss the hope and despair mixed in his expression. He was offering her this job to keep her from taking the children and leaving. Didn't he realize the money she earned would be saved for passage to Ireland? She stared down at her clasped hands. It would take a very long time to pay for four tickets, but she doubted she could get better wages anywhere else.

“Yes,” she said. “I'll accept it.”

“Good.” The satisfaction in his voice brought her head up. “That solves my problem of finding someone to replace Rhea.”

“She's quitting?”

He did not meet her eyes as he said in an abruptly clipped tone, “She's getting married soon.”

“To someone you don't like?”

“No, he's a fine young man.”

She guessed this was another topic he did not want to discuss, so she said, “I don't want to delay you from your meeting.”

“But you are.” He stepped nearer.

“I can move aside now and let you by.”

“Yes, I suppose you can.” His hand curved around her shoulder. “Or I could just pick you up and set you aside as I do the children when they get in the way.”

“I think you've carried me around enough.” She tried to smile, but her lips seemed to have a mind of their own when he was touching her; all they had on that mind was being pressed against his. When she took a step aside, his arm drew her back to him. “I can find my way to my room and bed all by myself.”

“Yes, I suppose you can.”

“You're repeating yourself.”

“Sometimes a man just has to keep doing something until he gets it right.”

His mouth claimed hers, and he tugged her against him. As her hands glided up his firm back, he pressed her against the wall. She gasped against his mouth as his bold fingers grazed her side. Her dress wrinkled beneath his eager touch. When his tongue caressed her lips before delving within her mouth to sample every slippery surface, each touch created an escalating pleasure that urged her to sample more. She wanted to be closer to him, so close that not even a thought could come between them.

He raised his mouth. When she whispered a protest, he smiled. He brushed her hair away from her face as he examined every inch of it, lighting it with the blaze from his eyes.

“We could make a good team,” he whispered.

Pushing herself out of his arms, she feared that he had kissed her only to entice her into staying. “I want to believe you, Samuel, but I don't know if I can.”

He folded her fingers between his. She turned to look at him, and he smiled sadly. “You're afraid to believe me, but you'll come to see I'm being honest with you.”

“You have more faith in me than I have in myself.” A pang cut through her. She should tell him why. He deserved an explanation. She refused to listen to her heart which warned her of the danger she courted by craving his kisses when he wanted her children.

“Who are you?” he asked.

She stiffened. “What do you mean?”

Smiling, his finger traced a path across her eyebrow and along her cheek. “I mean who are you? I can't imagine a woman whose passion can barely be held within her allowing her children to be taken from her so easily.”

“I explained what happened. Don't you believe me?”

“I'm trying to.” His finger steered her mouth to his.

“Mama!” The cry from beyond the front parlor drove right into her heart.

“Megan!” Samuel gasped.

Needlessly, for Cailin recognized her daughter's panicked voice. She pushed away from him and ran into the other room. Crashing into a table, she shoved herself around it and rushed to Megan.

The little girl threw her arms around Cailin's waist and pressed her tear-soaked face against her. “Mama! Mama!”

“I'm here,
a stór
.” She lifted Megan, leaning the child's head on her shoulder, even though it took almost every ounce of what little strength she had regained. Megan's legs wrapped around her waist, her ankles locking together. “Hush,
a stór
. I'm right here with you.”

“I dreamed you'd gone away and I'd never see you again.” Her voice came out in broken sobs. “Not ever again. I dreamed you coming here was just a dream.”

“I'm here, Megan, and I'm never going to leave you. Not ever.” She buried her face in the little girl's hair. “Not ever,” she whispered again.

Samuel stood beside the pocket door and watched in silence. Everything he had believed about the children was wrong. He thought they were happy with him. And they had been, until their mother found her way back to them.

When Cailin sat on the sofa, settling Megan on her lap and murmuring so softly he could not hear her words, he brought the lamp from the back parlor and set it on the table beside them. He was not certain either of them had even noticed until Cailin looked up and thanked him quietly.

“I need to leave for the meeting,” he said, uncomfortable in his own house as he had never been before. This connection between Cailin and her children was stronger than he had imagined. Or he had wanted to imagine, for he had fooled himself into believing he could make them this happy.

“Go,” she whispered as she cuddled Megan, who already appeared to be half-asleep. “She'll be all right.”

Megan sat up. “I'm all right now, Mama.” She wiped her cheek with the sleeve of her white cotton nightgown. “I thought you weren't here. I'm glad you and Samuel are here now.”

“You should have only happy dreams from now on.”

“Tuck me in, Mama?”

Samuel picked up the little girl. “Your mother is not completely better. Toting you up the stairs is too much for her.”

“Then will you tuck me in, Samuel?”

His gaze caught Cailin's as he said, “I can't think of many things I'd rather do. While I do that, your mother can sit here and get some color back into her cheeks.”

Cailin put her hand up to her face, and he almost laughed. That expression, pensive and yet uncertain, was one he had seen on Megan's face often.

“Will you sit here, Cailin, while I pop this silly girl back into bed?” He flipped Megan so he was holding her by the ankles. As she squealed with delight, he set her on the floor and put his finger to her lips. “Quiet, so you don't wake your brother and Lottie.”

“Lottie was snoring when I came down.” Megan's nose wrinkled in disgust. “So much noise from a little girl. Did you know she snores, Mama?”

When Cailin's smile glowed in her eyes, he tried to ignore the twist of something pleasurable in his gut, something he had not felt since … He hurried to say, “Now you're dawdling, Megan.” He gave her a gentle shove toward the door, but Megan ran back to Cailin. “Tell your mother good night and that she should sit quietly there until I come back down.”

“Good night, Mama.”

“Good night,
a stór
.” She kissed the little girl on the cheek, but her gaze rose again to meet Samuel's.

Cailin Rafferty was what his partner Theo would have called a second-looker. Not classically beautiful, but definitely worth a second look. And he gave her one, a slow perusal aimed at admiring every inch of her. She had a quirky smile and a figure that fit perfectly into a man's arms. Into
his
arms. Even in a ragged dress that had been patched as best as she was able, she had a regal mien.

An Irish princess.

He almost laughed out loud at the thought. She might have a pride that kept her chin high, but she was a ragamuffin who had had to leave her children in the care of people who had turned them over to an orphanage.

One corner of his mouth tipped up in a rueful grin. Would she be offended if he told her that the freckles on her pert nose had been the one thing that convinced him she was telling the truth? Any woman who did not try to hide them under a layer of rice powder must be honest.

“Mama!” Megan rushed to her mother again. “When will you be able to tell us some of your fairy stories?”

“You remember those?”

“I remember one about a little man with some gold.”

“A leprechaun?” Cailin wanted to hug her daughter so long that the many months apart would be forgotten. “I'll be glad to tell you the story in the morning.”

“You're dawdling again,” Samuel said with a ferocious frown that brought giggles from Megan. “Off to bed with you.”

“Will you read me a story tonight, Samuel?”

“I already have.” He waved his hands toward the stairs. “Time to go to bed so I can get to my meeting in Haven.”

“For the library?”

He nodded, then halted Megan by taking her hand as she was about to return to the parlor. “You can tell your mother about it in the morning. If you go to sleep now, she can, too. That way, she may be feeling well enough tomorrow so you can take her outside and show her your rabbit. How does that sound?”

Cailin did not hear her daughter's answer, for Samuel glanced back at her. She knew she should look away, but she could not. Her eyes were caught again by his, and her breath clogged in her throat. His build was perfect for denim and leather, but in his fancy clothes he was even more enticing. She thought of how he had asked her who she was. That was a question she should have posed to him. A gentle man and a gentleman. A man who was not afraid of hard work with his hands, but a man who had been a lawyer. Devoted to her children and yet not spoiling them as he taught them as if he were their father.

But even his good looks and his strong hands and his kind heart seemed incidental when she saw the strong emotions swirling in his green eyes. She was unsure how long they stared before he looked away.
With reluctance
, she thought. Because he had to look away or because he did not want to admit that the longing she had plainly seen in his eyes and tasted on his lips was dangerous?

She said nothing as he led Megan up the stairs. Seeing her daughter lean her head on his arm, she clenched her hands on her lap. No one could doubt the love between the two of them.

Samuel loved all three children, and they loved him. Would he try to keep her from taking her own children home? She looked toward the back parlor with the stacks of books that had been recently uncrated. He was a lawyer, so he knew the law well. Would he fight her for the children and win?

Six

Cailin yawned in spite of her efforts to hide her fatigue. She had not done much all day but sit on the porch and talk to the children. She had praised the rabbit's long ears and listened while Brendan seemed to tell her every detail of his cow's life. It had been more wonderful than she had imagined to become reacquainted with them. They had changed since she last saw them, Lottie more than the others, and she could not doubt they were happy here in Haven with Samuel.

“Why don't you rest, Cailin?” Samuel asked, putting down the newspaper he had been reading since he had come out onto the porch a few minutes before.

“It's so early.”

“You sound like Megan when she doesn't want to go to bed.”

The girl made a face at him, and Cailin could not keep from laughing. Putting her hands on the arm of the wooden chair, she pushed herself to her feet. She wobbled, and Brendan jumped to his feet to help her.

He was too slow, because Samuel was out of the rocking chair and had his hand under her elbow before her knees could fail her. As the children threw questions at her, he said under their fearful voices, “Trying to make up in one day for the time you've lost with them is going to make you sick again.”

She could not argue with the truth, so she nodded.

“Can you stand on your own?” he asked.

She nodded again but held on to the back of the chair so she did not prove how uncertain she was. “Hush,” she said to the anxious children. “I'm fine. Just tired.”

“Not too tired for the bath that's waiting for you, are you?” asked Brendan, disappointment filling his eyes.

“Bath?” she asked.

Samuel said with what she knew was mock anger, “Now you've spoiled the surprise.”

“A bath?” Cailin repeated, then smiled as Samuel and the children laughed at the breathless anticipation in her voice. Knowing there was no need to dissemble, she added, “I can't think of anything I want more at this moment.”

Samuel slipped his arm around her waist. “Nothing?” he asked with a rakish laugh that set the children to giggling.

Cailin stiffened for a minute before realizing the children had no idea what he was suggesting. They were amused by his teasing laugh. Slapping at his hand, she said, “The water is getting cold while you keep me out here.” She eased out of his embrace. She was astonished at how much she regretted that motion; his arm had offered a welcome she had never thought she would feel—or want to feel—again.

“Mama's going to have a bath?” asked Lottie, climbing up into the chair where Cailin had been sitting. “Can I wash the rabbit, too?”

“Rabbits can wash themselves, Quarter-pint,” Samuel said as he swung her up into his arms.

Lottie whispered something into his ear.

With a grin, he said, “Folks can take baths when it isn't Saturday night.” He set her down. “Now tell your mother good night and go upstairs and get ready for bed.”

Cailin smiled when all three children began to protest. Telling them to obey Samuel, she gave each a hug and a kiss. “Pretty dreams,” she said as they rushed into the house, each one eager to be first up the stairs.