Because You're Mine(34)

He joined her at the closet and shut the door. “This was my great-grandmother’s room. No one has occupied it in eighty years.”

“It needs cleaning. I thought I’d look for new bedding and such. Ciara could stay here.”

He put his arm around her shoulders and guided her to the door. “It’s going to take more than you realize. The mattress is likely full of bugs and mildew and will have to be replaced. The drawers in the dresser are warped. The whole thing needs to be gutted and redone.”

“Are any other rooms better?”

“Not really. By the time we could have rooms here ready, I’ll have the summerhouse finished. A couple of weeks, tops.”

“They can’t be staying in the hotel that long. It’s much too dear.”

“Then they can move into my condo. I’m going to call Ciara and tell her I’ll bring in the key.”

It was good of him to take care of things. His dependability was one of the things she really liked about Barry. “Thank you. We’ll need a place to practice. Any ideas?”

He frowned. “I’ve been thinking about that. The ballroom might not be a bad idea. I could get the boxes cleared away into the attic. Might take a couple of days.”

“I could help.”

“I wouldn’t turn down the company.”

His arm was still around her shoulders. She could smell the spicy tang of his cologne and the clean scent of his shirt. She turned her head to look up at him. His gaze held hers, and she saw the longing there. That hint of darkness she’d seen yesterday was gone.

He’d been so good to her. She leaned against him slightly, not fighting the warmth rushing through her limbs at his nearness.

He turned her to face him, then caught a red curl and twisted it around his finger. “No one has hair like yours.” His voice was husky.

They were standing toe to toe. Alanna knew she should step away, but the warmth in Barry’s eyes held her in place. She’d been so lonely without Liam. She missed being in his arms at night, missed the whispered confidences and the tender love-making. Barry wanted to fill that empty place in her life. Would it be so wrong to let him?

His fingers touched her chin, and he lifted it, then bent his head. His lips claimed hers in a kiss that told her the physical attraction between them was very real. She closed her eyes and kissed him back, laying her hand against his chest where she felt the pounding of his heart under her palm.

He muttered her name against her lips and drew her closer. For an instant, Alanna could imagine it was Liam who held her, who pressed his lips against hers so ardently. She forced herself to remember this was Barry, her new husband. A man who had every right to expect more from her than she was ready to give.

She put her hands on his chest and pushed off gently. He let her go and a crooked smile creased his face. “I-I’m not ready, Barry.”

“I’ll be here when you are,” he said in a quiet voice. A car door banged outside, and he glanced toward the window. “My parents.”

Her gut clenched, and she caught her breath. The moment she’d been dreading was here. They were going to hate her, she just knew it. He took her hand and led her down the stairs. More doors banged, and she heard footsteps across the porch. A woman’s voice called out.

When they reached the entry, the door opened, and a woman stepped in. A man followed her. Alanna’s gaze focused on Patricia Kavanagh. In her sixties, her blonde hair had even lighter highlights in the stylish layered bob. She wore a mint-green suit with heels that accented her slim legs.

Patricia’s smile faltered when her blue eyes lit on Alanna. Her eyes went wide, and the color drained from her face. Alanna glanced at her husband uncertainly. Surely he’d told his parents about their marriage.

Patricia Kavanagh’s gaze finally left Alanna. She glanced at her son with a question in her eyes, then stepped forward to brush her lips across Barry’s cheek. “I missed you, son. Two months is too long to be gone. We’re exhausted.” She stepped back and stared at Alanna again.

Barry put his hand on Alanna’s shoulder. “This is Alanna, Mother. My wife.”

The words fell with all the power of a cannonball into the room. Patricia took a step back and went white. She shook her head, then stared from Alanna to her son and back again. “You look just like her,” she muttered, her gaze focused on Alanna’s face. “Just like Deirdre.”

“I noticed that.” Alanna sent an appealing gaze to her husband.

Patricia’s lip curled. “You’re Irish? How could you, Barry? You know how I detest that slovenly race.”

“Alanna and I were married two days ago,” he said. “I want you to welcome her into the family.” His voice was hard.

Patricia blinked, then moved her gaze to her son. “You knew we’d be home today. How could you do this behind our backs after I asked you to postpone it?” Her stare at Alanna was fierce. “I suppose this was all your doing?” Her gaze went to Alanna’s bare feet, and her lip curled. Her mouth fell open when her stare lit on the gentle swell of Alanna’s tummy. “Are you pregnant?” she whispered.

Alanna’s throat made an audible click when she swallowed. A simple yes would make it appear as though the child were Barry’s. She didn’t have enough moisture in her mouth to explain the circumstances. She and Barry hadn’t discussed just what to tell his parents.