Crown Jewels (Off-Limits Romance #1)(75)

He lets out a mighty breath. I lean my face up, kissing the first spot my lips reach on his face—just below his temple. “It’s okay,” I whisper in his ear. “You might be upset about the baby, but everything otherwise is fine. I’m doing—”

“You think I’m upset about the baby?” His eyes are serious and round.

I shrug. “It wouldn’t be weird if you were.”

His eyes shut, and I watch him swallow. “I don’t know how I feel about the baby,” he grits. His eyes open, holding mine. “I know how I feel about you, Lucy, and it scares me. I don’t like it.”

He looks miserable. So much so, I turn away and start to cry again. “I’ll just go home now!”

“No.” His hands are on my shoulders once more, turning me to face him. When he sees my tears, his face collapses. “No. No, Lucy… I’m not asking you to go.” I start to sob harder, and Liam wraps me back up in his arms.

“Shhhhh.” His hand smooths over my hair. I feel his lips against my forehead. “Don’t cry. I’m sorry.”

“Why would you want me here? I’m…nothing but the bearer of bad news!” I sob into his sweater, unable to stop myself. I’ve never felt so lost and lonely. So defeated. That he seemed to like me before now—

“Lucy Rhodes, look up at me.”

I shake my head, still crying.

Liam’s hands find my cheeks, forcing me gently to look up. “I don’t know how bad this news is yet, but that’s not all you are. It’s not,” he says again when tears fall down my cheeks. “You have to know you’re more than that to me. I’m half in love with you, you know I am.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Surely you can feel it. Do you think I do all this with anyone but you? I’ve never been to Pirate Island with anyone. No one, Lucy. Only you. I told you I can’t fucking read and you’re still here, and I still want you. It doesn’t even seem that weird because you make it okay. You make everything better.” He draws me gently to his chest and wraps an arm around my upper back and head. “I would fucking hate it if you left, so please don’t. Stay.”

“I didn’t mean to,” I cry.

“Mean to what, acushla?”

I pause at the strange word. “What does that mean?”

His arms around me tighten, and I feel his cheek against my hair. “Cushlamachree,” he breathes. “It’s like… It’s a word for lovers, Lucy.”

Tears drip down my cheeks, unfettered. “Are we lovers?” I whisper, so quiet that even I can barely hear.

His lips press down against the top of my head. I can feel him draw a long, deep breath and tense before he whispers, “Yes.”

And for the longest time, that’s all that either of us says. We just stand there, Liam’s hands stroking down my back and through my hair, my cheek pressed against his gray sweater, so tightly I can hear the beating of his heart.

“I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t want it,” he finally says. When I stiffen, he spreads his palm behind my head. “I didn’t know I wanted it.” His voice is hoarse. He doesn’t speak again, but I can feel the frenzy of his heartbeat through our clothes, and I can sense his feelings right up near the surface, running rampant. His breaths feel strained, his arms around me heavy. “I don’t know if I can do this well.” I feel his cheek come up against mine, our heads pressed together as his voice murmurs into my hair. “I took this class in college—it was something in psychology. The teacher lectured everything; there were no notes. One of the things he said,” Liam confides quietly, “was that you can’t…learn to love someone…if you weren’t. All that stuff is…learned.” He inhales deeply, and I wrap my hand around his warm nape, pressing his face to my shoulder. I can feel him let his breath out. Then his body shudders slightly. “If I can’t— Lucy…” He pulls away from me, so he can look into my eyes as he says, “You deserve someone who can.”

I see him struggling to swallow, see his slightly red eyes and his tensed-up shoulders.

“You don’t have to stay with me,” he tells me in a strong, clear, neutral tone. “All the choices here are yours.”

And that’s the moment that I know I love him.





TWENTY-EIGHT Lucy





Liam and I sit by the stream talking for a long time. He’s got my hand in both of his and is sitting close enough so that I’m almost on his lap.

I tell him the whole story about me finding out that I was pregnant, knowing I should tell him but not wanting to because I figured it would change all this. I tell him I don’t want to be an obligation; I have means and support and my own strength, and I don’t need him to be any more involved than he wants to be. Liam’s lips brush softly over my ear, and in that low and sexy voice of his, he says, “Don’t worry about me, Lucille.”

He asks me questions. Lots of questions. Am I sure I’m feeling okay? Am I nervous? Do I know the baby’s gender? Can I feel the baby move yet? He tells me how a friend of his and Dec’s got married to a model several months ago; she’d had his child at the end of last year.

“I went to the wedding, so I know: they’re happy.”