flashed a glance at Thomas that well displayed her indignation.
“Mama, I would gladly go,” cried Darragh. “She doesn’t care, but I do. I—”
“Silence,” Sinead declared, her voice stronger than Thomas had yet heard tonight. “I’ll not hear one more word.” Pushing with both palms flat on the table, she shakily arose. “Help me to my bed, girls. Good night, Lord Thomas. You must stay the night—the girls will make a bed for you by the fire. Meantime, I shall think on Lord Trevlyn’s proposal and give you my answer in the morning.”
* * *
Thomas couldn’t sleep. In his makeshift bed in front of the fireplace, he thrashed about this way and that, his mind in a scramble. What have I done? His arrival had created a turmoil that would affect the O’Fallons for the rest of their lives, no matter what Sinead’s decision might be. If she said yes, Patrick would be given a chance at a privileged life, but the family would be torn apart. If she said no, who knew what bitter recriminations might emerge in the future? Darragh’s feelings already were obvious. But might not Patrick someday resent his mother’s denial of his inheritance?
And then there was Evleen ...
He’d had to catch his breath when the door swung open and he saw her standing there, a surprised light vivid in her sapphire blue eyes, her hair hanging loose and like a wavy cloud around her delicate face. For a moment he allowed his gaze to drop to her tiny waist and those enticing rounded curves he’d been seeing in his dreams ever since he first laid eyes on her. He was loathe to admit it, but Evleen O’Fallon disturbed him in every way. Her slim, wild beauty haunted his thoughts, yet he must be sensible. Sinead would reject Lord Trevlyn’s request, he was sure of it. But what if she said yes? And further, what if she decided Evleen should accompany Patrick to England? That would mean...
Good God. The journey back to England would take at least a week. He was faced with being in close proximity to a woman who’d dwelled in his thoughts since the moment they met. Driving a drafty carriage across Ireland... sailing across the Irish Sea in a flimsy ship... they would be thrown so closely together he would be hard put to keep his hands off her. He must not touch her, of course. Judging from those gritty looks she’d given him, she was in no mood to be civil to him, let alone entertain any modicum of friendship, let alone affection.
I would be better off with Darragh, Thomas thought grimly. The younger sister’s whiny attitude was so off-putting he would have no trouble keeping his distance.
An errant flame sparked in the fireplace, then died down until the snug room was wrapped in complete darkness. Thomas inhaled a sweet whiff of peat. How different from home, he thought, where his valet would have laid out his night clothes, turned down his bed, warmed his sheets with a warming pan if the air held the least chill. Strange, but despite the humbleness of this cottage, he felt just as comfortable and at ease as he had ever felt in his own bedchamber at Northfield Hall. The O’Fallons had made him feel at home.
He wished he could fall asleep. Why was he still wide awake? Evleen. She must be in her bed by now, only a few feet from where he lay, those long, lithe thighs, that full, curved bosom all tucked snug, warm, and beguiling beneath the covers. And her shiny raven hair spread over her pillow. She was probably asleep already...
Which, dammit, I am not.
Wide awake, Thomas thrashed about in his makeshift bed, rearranging covers that needed no rearranging. He’d be lucky if he got but a jot of sleep before morning.
* * *
The sun had not yet risen when Evleen, hearing her mother’s faint call, threw a shawl around her voluminous white nightgown and went to her mother’s bedchamber. “You’re awake early, Mama,” She sank to a chair by the bed.
Sinead sat straight in her bed, fully awake. “I’ve hardly slept. I lay here thinking most of the night, and then I went to speak to Patrick.”
“Have you decided?”
Darragh entered, shivering in her nightgown. “Yes, Mama, tell us. I’m dying to hear.”
“Go build up the fire and heat the porridge, girls. Wake Lord Thomas, if he isn’t already awake. Wake Sorcha and Mary. Patrick’s already awake. When we’re all at