him.”
“And you didn’t ask. We’ve talked of you and Kilronan and what you want, Shane McKenna. But you never asked me about those at home.”
“I’m sorry.”
She blinked away the stinging irritation in her eyes. “Sorry’
s
just a word. You and Papa were like fire and gunpowder. Don’t pretend what you don’t feel.”
That brought him to his feet. He enveloped her in his arms and pulled her against him. “Caity,” he murmured into her hair. “Your father hated the sight of me and with good reason.”
“He didn’t hate you,” she protested. “You were Catholic and poor and—”
“And the son of a penniless drunk who beat his wifeand kids senseless whenever he got a belly full of whiskey.”
“It was unfair of Papa to—”
He raised her chin and looked down into her face. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Caity,” he said gently. “You loved him, and he was a good father to you. How did he die?”
“My mother caught a bad fever and the running flux from a cottar’s wife. We buried her on Christmas Eve, two years past. Papa lived until the following spring, but his heart was never strong, and he pined without her.”
Caitlin pushed free of Shane’s embrace and hurried to tell the rest before she lost her nerve and dissolved into a puddle of tears. “Only Maureen is left besides Derry, Maureen and the new babe she was to bear in April. I’ve not heard if they survived or not. Her husband was killed in the food riots last summer.”
“Food riots?”
Caitlin shrugged. “Lives go cheap in Ireland. Thomas was hired to protect the wheat shipment, but the soldiers shot him in the confusion.”
Shane reached out his hand, but she stepped back. She didn’t want him to pity her or her family. She only wanted fair treatment and a chance. “We lost the house and land. Papa was only tenant manager to Lord Carlston. The estate hasn’t belonged to our family in over a hundred years.”
“But your father was well liked by both the English and the Irish. He was a wealthy man in his own right.”
“Not wealthy, never wealthy, Shane.”
He scoffed. “My father kept his pigs in the single room of our cabin, before he sold them all to buy whiskey. You come from money, Caity, Protestant quality. You’ve never known what it was to go to bed with your backbone grinding against your empty belly.”
“It’s more of that old argument,” she flung back. “I am the lady of the manor and you’re naught but a poor laborer.”
He flashed a hint of a wolfish grin. “You forgot unlettered papist. I can write my own name, Caity, nothin’ more. And I can’t even read the words on my own land deed.”
“Horsefeathers. If you’re ignorant of learning, then it’s up to you to set that right. You’ll get no pity from me. How many acres did you boast of owning? Six hundred? You may have come from a dirt-floored cottage, but you’re a great landowner now. You are the rich one, Shane, while I have nothing but the clothes on my back and the contents of my trunks.”
“You’re a lady, and that’s not something that can be learned or bought with a few acres of Missouri land.”
“What do you want of me, Shane McKenna?”
“What’s right for us and the children.”
“What’s right is our living like true husband and wife.”
“Maybe,” he said. “I’d like to think that.”
“You loved me once.” The words came softly, drifting up from a secret place where she’d treasured and protected them.
“That I did, but that was a long time ago. I’d like to think I could feel that way again, but I can’t lie to you. I just don’t know.”
Her chest felt so tight that she could hardly draw breath, hardly speak. “Since you’ve said it, so shall I. I’m as confused as you, but did we not agree to try to make this work?”
His features hardened. “I sent for you, didn’t I?”
“Is that all you can say?”
He shrugged. “I’ve no pretty words. We can try, but the odds are against
“And you didn’t ask. We’ve talked of you and Kilronan and what you want, Shane McKenna. But you never asked me about those at home.”
“I’m sorry.”
She blinked away the stinging irritation in her eyes. “Sorry’
s
just a word. You and Papa were like fire and gunpowder. Don’t pretend what you don’t feel.”
That brought him to his feet. He enveloped her in his arms and pulled her against him. “Caity,” he murmured into her hair. “Your father hated the sight of me and with good reason.”
“He didn’t hate you,” she protested. “You were Catholic and poor and—”
“And the son of a penniless drunk who beat his wifeand kids senseless whenever he got a belly full of whiskey.”
“It was unfair of Papa to—”
He raised her chin and looked down into her face. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Caity,” he said gently. “You loved him, and he was a good father to you. How did he die?”
“My mother caught a bad fever and the running flux from a cottar’s wife. We buried her on Christmas Eve, two years past. Papa lived until the following spring, but his heart was never strong, and he pined without her.”
Caitlin pushed free of Shane’s embrace and hurried to tell the rest before she lost her nerve and dissolved into a puddle of tears. “Only Maureen is left besides Derry, Maureen and the new babe she was to bear in April. I’ve not heard if they survived or not. Her husband was killed in the food riots last summer.”
“Food riots?”
Caitlin shrugged. “Lives go cheap in Ireland. Thomas was hired to protect the wheat shipment, but the soldiers shot him in the confusion.”
Shane reached out his hand, but she stepped back. She didn’t want him to pity her or her family. She only wanted fair treatment and a chance. “We lost the house and land. Papa was only tenant manager to Lord Carlston. The estate hasn’t belonged to our family in over a hundred years.”
“But your father was well liked by both the English and the Irish. He was a wealthy man in his own right.”
“Not wealthy, never wealthy, Shane.”
He scoffed. “My father kept his pigs in the single room of our cabin, before he sold them all to buy whiskey. You come from money, Caity, Protestant quality. You’ve never known what it was to go to bed with your backbone grinding against your empty belly.”
“It’s more of that old argument,” she flung back. “I am the lady of the manor and you’re naught but a poor laborer.”
He flashed a hint of a wolfish grin. “You forgot unlettered papist. I can write my own name, Caity, nothin’ more. And I can’t even read the words on my own land deed.”
“Horsefeathers. If you’re ignorant of learning, then it’s up to you to set that right. You’ll get no pity from me. How many acres did you boast of owning? Six hundred? You may have come from a dirt-floored cottage, but you’re a great landowner now. You are the rich one, Shane, while I have nothing but the clothes on my back and the contents of my trunks.”
“You’re a lady, and that’s not something that can be learned or bought with a few acres of Missouri land.”
“What do you want of me, Shane McKenna?”
“What’s right for us and the children.”
“What’s right is our living like true husband and wife.”
“Maybe,” he said. “I’d like to think that.”
“You loved me once.” The words came softly, drifting up from a secret place where she’d treasured and protected them.
“That I did, but that was a long time ago. I’d like to think I could feel that way again, but I can’t lie to you. I just don’t know.”
Her chest felt so tight that she could hardly draw breath, hardly speak. “Since you’ve said it, so shall I. I’m as confused as you, but did we not agree to try to make this work?”
His features hardened. “I sent for you, didn’t I?”
“Is that all you can say?”
He shrugged. “I’ve no pretty words. We can try, but the odds are against
Similar Books
