by Ginna Gray
"Meghan, be sensible. We have to talk. Why are you being so stubborn about this? Why won't you marry me? You know I love you."
"Huh! If you love me so much, what were you doing running around all over New York with Larette Farraday?"
"I wasn't. I didn't go out with her even once. She showed up everywhere I went, which was all Quincy's doing. I thought you would know that."
Meghan experienced a flicker of doubt, but she pushed it away. After all, he had accepted their breakup easily enough. "It doesn't matter. I still won't marry you."
"Oh for the love of— Would you mind explaining to me exactly why the hell not?" he said between clenched teeth.
"All right," She slapped a bandage over the cut on his cheek and planted her hands on her hips. "But first you answer a question for me. Would you be here now if you hadn't learned that I was pregnant?"
Throughout the discussion, her family avidly took in every word, their heads swiveling back and forth between the couple like spectators at a tennis match. Now seventeen pairs of eyes settled on Rhys.
"I don't see what that has to do with—"
"Just answer the question."
"Well... maybe not At least not right now," he admitted reluctantly. Meghan's face tightened and he hurried to add, "But I would have come before long. I've been missing you like crazy, sweetheart."
"Uh-huh. Right. The only reason you came is because you feel responsible. Weil, I refuse to marry a man just because he thinks it's the right thing to do."
"That's not true! I want to marry you because I love you. You have to believe that. Even if there wasn't a baby, I'd want to marry you "
Seventeen pairs of eyes switched expectantly to Meghan.
"Oh, really? It's funny that you never once mentioned marriage before. Not on the island, not on the boat, and not after we returned. The subject never came up until you learned that I was pregnant. I will not use my baby to trap you into marriage. So you can just take your proposal and... and..."
She stopped, too choked up to go on. Furious tears filled her eyes as she fought to stop her chin from quivering. Finally her face crumpled. "Ooohh, just go away," she wailed and bolted out the door.
"Meghan..." Rhys rose halfway out of the chair, but Maggie put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down.
"No. Don't, Rhys. Let me talk to her." She glanced around at the other women. "Come with me, ladies. I think in this situation the female touch is definitely needed."
The women trooped out like a tight little army, leaving ten bewildered males behind.
An awkward silence filled the kitchen. Feet shuffled, and someone cleared their throat. Rhys remained seated at the table, half expecting another attack.
"Did you mean what you said? Do you really love her?"
Rhys looked up, and met the steady blue gaze of one of Meghan's brothers. "Yes. I'll love her until the day I die."
The man studied him, as though trying to see into his soul. He glanced around at the others. Then, finally, firming his mouth, he stepped forward and stuck out Ins hand. "Welcome to the family, Rhys. I'm Ryan."
* * *
It was the most natural thing in the world for Meghan to open up to the women in her family. All her childhood she had run to her mother or Aunt Dorothy with her woes and complaints, and as a teenager she had turned to Erin and Elise for advice on her adolescent problems. Abbey, Tess, Rebecca and Amanda were merely an extension of that feminine circle. With very little encouragement, Meghan poured out the whole story to their sympathetic ears, including what had happened all those years ago when she and Rhys had been in college.
They listened without comment or passing judgment, and when she was done they were understanding of her position and promised to support her decision if she truly did not want to marry Rhys. They did not, however, much to Meghan's surprise, wholeheartedly agree with the position she had taken.
Most of the women tried to soft-pedal their criticism and diplomatically suggest that perhaps she was mistaken about Rhys. Her cousin Erin, however, hadn't the least compunction about coming right out with her opinion.
"Personally, I think you're nuts. You're letting the past color your judgment. All that stuff is ancient history, for heaven's sake. You were just an eighteen-year-old kid, and God knows there's never been a man born who had a lick of sense until he was past thirty. Bless their little hearts. Give the guy a chance. He says he loves you, and I think he means it."
"Erin, you don't understand. Rhys is an honorable man. Of course he'd say that. What choice does he have? No, I've made up my mind. I am not going to trap him into marriage and that's that."
"Very well, my darling." Smiling, Maggie stroked her daughter's bright hair. "If that's your decision, so be it. However, I feel I should tell you, I'm going to invite Rhys to spend the remainder of the holiday season with us."
"Mother! You can't be serious!" Meghan stared at her, appalled.
"Oh, but I am. Because, Meghan Maureen, there's something I don't think you've considered. Whether you marry this young man or not, he is the father of your child, and I'm quite sure, just from the little I've seen of him, that he's the kind of man who is going to want to be a part of his child's life, which is as it should be."
"Your mother's right. If you think just because you turned him down Rhys Morgan is going to tuck tail and slink away, I'm afraid you're in for a nasty shock," Dorothy put in, and the other women all murmured agreement.
"Anyway, why should we ostracize Rhys?" Erin challenged. "After all, you were the one who broke off the relationship. He's declared his love and proposed."
"You see, my darling daughter, you might as well get used to having him around. And there's no time like the present to start." Maggie rose and walked majestically to the door. "Besides, I want to get to know the father of my grandchild."
* * *
Rhys and the other men were waiting in the parlor when the women trooped downstairs. He was disappointed that Meghan was not with them, but at least her mother's expression gave him hope.
"Well? Did you talk some sense into her?" Colin demanded of his wife. "Is she ready to marry Rhys?"
"Not just yet."
"What!" he yelped. All around, the others groaned or cursed under their breath. "I swear, I don't understand any of this. The man loves her. He wants to marry her. What is that girl's problem?"
"Oh, it's really quite simple, my love." Maggie gave her husband's cheek a pat and smiled. Rhys noticed that all the women had that same smug, slightly pitying look, the one they always wore when mere males struggled to understand the mysterious workings of the female mind.
"Oh yeah! Well, would you mind explaining it to the rest of us?" David groused. "We'd like to know why an otherwise sane woman is behaving so irrationally. I'm sure Rhys especially would like the answer."
"The problem boils down to one thing— Throughout Rhys and Meghan's entire romantic history it has been circumstance that has put them together, not choice, and now it seems to her that it is happening again."
Rhys sighed heavily. "So what do I do? I can't change the circumstances."
"Cheer up, it will all work out. I'm quite sure that my daughter loves you. She's just a bit shaky and emotional right now, but that's normal in her condition. What you must do is somehow convince her that you truly love her and always will, come what may.''
"Great. Just how am I supposed to do that?"
"She's mule stubborn, but if you just keep plugging away you'll eventually wear her down," Reilly offered with an affable grin. "It always worked for me when we were growing up."
* * *
Meghan paced back and forth across her room. She could not remember feeling this awful. And it wasn't just this miserable heartburn, either, she thought, absently rubbing her breastbone. She was angry and confused. And yes, dammit, hurt. Over the past week, her whole family had defected to the enemy.
Well...all right, Rhys wasn't exactly the enemy. But blessed hell, they were suppose t
o take her side.
Everyone—Rebecca, Tess and Amanda, Abbey, Max, Sam, and even Mike—sang his praises and dropped hints about how well he would fit into the family.
And Rhys. He was relentless. Every chance he got, he wooed her with melting looks and soft words and that darned sexy smile, which never failed to steal her breath. His gentle persistence was driving her nuts.
To avoid him, she'd spent a lot of the past week holed up in her room. Of course,, her family would not allow her to get by with that all the time. If she did not put in an appearance now and then, someone came and dragged her out.
She had no choice but to go downstairs for meals. Unless you were ill or injured or recovering from childbirth, Maggie McCall expected people in her home to partake of a meal in a civilized manner, which meant sitting down together at the table at the appointed time.
It was bad enough that all the females in her family were so taken by Rhys. That at least was understandable, given the effect he had on women. What hurt and astonished her most was how the attitude of her brothers and the other men had undergone such a complete about-face. A week ago they were trying to tear Rhys apart. Now they had not merely called a truce, they were treating him like a long-lost pal.
While she was stuck in her room, lonely and miserable, Rhys was wallowing in the bosom of her family. It wasn't fair.
Thank heaven he would be leaving tomorrow, she told herself, ignoring the twinge in her heart.
Grimacing, Meghan stopped pacing and pressed her hand against her breastbone again. Her esophagus was on fire.
She had to have a glass of milk or the acid was going to eat right through her chest.
She crept down the stairs in the dark and made her way into the kitchen. Not wanting to wake anyone, she turned on the light over the stove. It spilled only a small circle of light but that was enough. She took a jug of milk from the refrigerator and set it on the counter. Her heartburn was so severe she was tempted to drink straight from the bottle, but childhood teachings were too strong. Even now, her mother would not hesitate to tear a strip off her for that. Going up on tiptoe she pulled a glass from the cabinet, just as the kitchen door swung open.
She stiffened and slanted Rhys a look as he stepped inside, but she said nothing. He came over and leaned back against the counter beside her. From the corner of her eye Meghan noted that he was barefoot and all he had on was a pair of jeans. Unbuttoned jeans. The burning in her throat increased.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," she said with a little shrug, refusing to look at him. She filled the glass and took several sips. The cool liquid sliding down her throat felt so good she almost sighed.
Rhys crossed his feet at the ankles, folded his arms across his chest and waited.
Meghan sipped her milk and pretended to stare out the window, but all she saw was her own reflection... and that of Rhys's back. She looked pale and fragile in her old woolly bathrobe, her wild hair every which way. In the glass, Rhys's back and shoulders looked impossibly broad. Helplessly, her gaze traced over his shoulder blades and down his spine. She stopped at the velvety mole just above his waist, and her fingertips tingled as she remembered the way it had felt.
She forced her gaze away from that tempting reflection and took another sip of milk. Seconds ago it had slid down easily, but now her throat was so tight she could barely swallow. She peeked at Rhys again out of the corner of her eye and quickly looked away when she encountered that silvery gaze.
The heat had been turned down for the night and the kitchen was cool, but Meghan felt hot all over. The air seemed heavy and thick, pulsing around her like a living being, making breathing difficult and stretching her nerves taut.
"What are you doing here?" she blurted out.
"I heard you going downstairs and I came to make sure you were all right."
"No, I mean why are you still here in my parents' home? Why are you doing this?" She felt shaky and vulnerable and she hated the quiver in her voice, but she had to know.
"I'm trying to prove to you that I love you."
The gentle way he spoke inexplicably brought tears to her eyes, but she blinked them back and slanted him a mulish look.
"You staying here doesn't prove a thing."
"Then what will?" Straightening away from the counter, he took her shoulders in his hands and turned her to face him. In the dim light his silvery eyes glittered into hers, demanding an answer. "What would it take to prove that I love you, Meghan? Would you believe me if I gave up my career? If I gave away all my money? What if we returned to the island and cut ourselves off from the rest of the world? Just tell me what you want, and I'll do it."
Meghan stared at him. Vaguely, she knew that her eyes were big as saucers and her mouth was hanging open, but she could not help it. She was stunned. He meant it. He truly meant it. She could see it in his eyes.
A sweet pressure filled her chest as emotions swamped her. Tears rushed to her eyes and her voice came out quavery and choked. "Oh, Rhys. You...you would do that for me?"
"I would do anything to have you back in my life." He cupped her face between his palms and looked deep into her misty eyes. "Sweetheart, if I failed to mention marriage to you before it was only because I already considered us married."
"Rhys! W-what are you saying?"
"Since that first time we made love on the island, I've thought of us as man and wife. Don't you remember what I said to you then?"
Her eyes widened and she caught her breath as the words he had murmured drifted back to her. You're mine now. This is for always.
Love overflowed her heart, washing away all her doubts. Her tears welled higher and banked against her lower eyelids, blurring his image. Emotion clogged her throat and her lips trembled, as one by one the crystal drops plopped onto her cheeks and trickled down. "Oh, Rhys," she quavered through a wobbly smile. "I do love you so."
Something flared in Rhys's eyes, something hot and fierce. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "And you'll be my wife?"
"Yes. Oh, yes." She touched trembling fingers to his cheek and gazed up at him with her heart in her eyes. "Always."