An Outrageous Proposal

by Maureen Child

  “When a man’s tempted by a woman like her,” Sean mused, “he’s hard put to remember unwanted advice.”

  “And yet, when the shite hits the fan, you come to me for more of that advice.”

  Sean scowled at his cousin. He’d thought to find a little male solidarity here in this house that had been as much his home as Ronan’s since he was a child. Seems he’d been wrong. “When you’ve done gloating, let me know.”

  “I’ll be a while yet,” Ronan mused and dropped onto the sofa. Propping his booted feet up on the table in front of him, he glanced up at Sean and said, “What’s got you so itchy, then?”

  “What hasn’t?” Shaking his head, Sean wandered the room, unable to settle. Unable to clear his mind enough to examine exactly why he felt as though he were doing a fast step-toe dance on a hot skillet—barefoot.

  “Then pick one out of the bunch to start with.”

  “Fine.” Sean whirled around, back to the fire, to face his cousin. Heat seared him from head to toe, and still there was a tiny chill inside it couldn’t reach. “Father Leary dropped in on me this morning, wanting to have a ‘pre-marriage’ chat.”

  Ronan snorted. “Aye, I had one with the old man, as well. Always amazed me, bachelor priests thinking they know enough about marriage to be handing out counsel on how to treat a wife.”

  “Worse than that, he wanted to tell me all about how sex with a wife is different from sex with a mistress.”

  Ronan choked on a sip of beer, then burst out laughing. “That’s what you get for having a reputation as quite the ladies’ man. Father didn’t feel it necessary to warn me of such things.” As Ronan considered that, he frowned, clearly wondering whether or not he should be insulted.

  “Fine for you,” Sean grumbled. “I don’t know which of us was more uncomfortable with that conversation—me, or the good father himself.”

  “I’d bet on you.”

  “You’d win that one, all right,” Sean said, then took another drink of his beer. Shaking his head, he pushed that confrontation with the village priest out of his head. “Then there’s Katie—”

  “Your housekeeper?”

  “No, the other Katie in my life, of course my bloody housekeeper,” Sean snapped. “She’s buying up bridal magazines and bringing them to Mother, who’s chortling over them as if she’s planning a grand invasion. She’s already talked to me about flowers, as if I know a rose from a daisy, and do we want to rent a canvas to stretch over the gardens for the reception in case of rain—”

  “Shouldn’t be news to you,” Ronan said mildly. “Not the first time you’ve been engaged, after all.”

  “’Tisn’t the same,” Sean muttered.

  “Aye, no, because that time it wasn’t a game, was it? And when Noreen dumped your ass and moved on, you couldn’t have cared less.”

  All true, Sean thought. He’d asked Noreen Callahan to marry him more than three years ago now. It had seemed, he considered now, the thing to do at the time. After all, Noreen was witty and beautiful, and she liked nothing better than going to all the fancy dos he was forced to attend as Irish Air made a name for itself.

  But he hadn’t put in the time. He’d spent every minute on his business, and finally Noreen had had enough. She’d come to understand that not even getting her mitts on Sean’s millions was enough motivation to live with a man who barely noticed her existence.

  Sean had hardly noticed when she left. So what did that say about him? He’d decided then that he wasn’t the marrying sort and nothing yet had happened to change his mind.

  “This was all your idea,” Ronan reminded him.

  “Do you think I don’t know that?” He scrubbed one hand across his face, then pushed that hand through his hair, fingers stabbing viciously. The longer this lie went on, the more it evolved. “There’s a pool at the Pennywhistle, you know. Picking out dates for the wedding and the birth of our first child.”

  “I’ve five euros on December twenty-third myself.” Ronan studied the label on his bottle of Harp.

  “Why the bloody hell would you do that? You know there’s not to be a wedding!”

  “And if I don’t enter a pool about your wedding, don’t you think those in the village would wonder why?”

  “Aye, I suppose.” Sean shook his head and looked out the window at the sunny afternoon. Shadows slid across the lawn like specters as the trees that made them swayed in the wind. “No one in the village was this interested in my life when it was Noreen who was the expected bride.”

  “Because no one in the village could stand the woman,” Ronan told him flatly. “A more nose-in-the-air, pretentious female I’ve never come across.”

  Hard to argue with that assessment, Sean thought, so he kept his mouth shut.

  “But everyone around here likes Georgia. She’s a fine woman.”

  “As if I didn’t know that already.”

  “Just as you knew this would happen, Sean. It can’t be a surprise to you.”

  “No, it’s not,” he admitted, still staring out the glass, as if searching for an answer to his troubles. “But it all feels as though it’s slipping out of my control, and I’ve no idea how to pull it all back in again.”

  “You can’t,” Ronan said easily, and Sean wanted to kick him.

  “Thanks for that, too.” He sipped at his beer again and got no pleasure from the cold, familiar taste. “I’m seeing this whole marriage thing get bigger and bigger, and I’ve no idea what’s going to happen when we finally call it off.”

  “Should’ve thought of that before this half-brained scheme of yours landed you in such a fix.”

  “Again, you’re a comfort to me,” he said, sarcasm dripping in his tone. “I’ve told Georgia I’ll see to it that everyone blames me. But now I’m seeing that it’s more complicated than that. Did you know, my assistant’s already fielding requests for wedding invitations from some of my business associates?”

  “Lies take on a life of their own,” Ronan said quietly.

  “True enough.” Sean’s back teeth clenched, as he remembered exactly how he’d gotten into this whole thing, and for the life of him, he couldn’t say for sure now that he would have done it differently if given a chance. “You didn’t see my mother lying in that hospital bed, Ronan. Wondering if she’d recover—or if, God forbid, I was going to lose her. Seeing her face so pale and then the tears on her cheeks as she worried for me.” He paused and shook his head. “Scared me.”

  “Scared me, too,” Ronan admitted. “Your mother’s important to me, you know.”

  “I do know that.” Sean took a deep breath, shook off the tattered remnants of that fear and demanded, “So out of your fondness for my mother, why not help save her son?”

  “Ah no, lad. You’re on your own in this.”

  “Thanks for that, as well.”

  “I will say that if Georgia ends up shedding one tear over what you’ve dragged her into,” Ronan told him, “I will beat you bloody.”

  “I know that, too.” Sean walked back and sat down beside Ronan. He kicked his feet up onto the table and rested his bottle of beer on his abdomen. “I’d expect nothing less.”

  “Well then, we’re agreed.” Ronan reached over and clinked the neck of his beer against Sean’s. “You’re in a hole that’s getting deeper with every step you take, Sean. Mind you don’t go in over your head.”

  As he drank to that discomforting toast, Sean could only think that Ronan was too late with this particular warning. He knew damn well he was already so deep, he couldn’t see sky.

  * * *

  From Georgia’s cottage kitchen downstairs came the incredible scent of potato-leek soup and fresh bread.

  Georgia inhaled sharply, then sighed as she looked at her sister. “I think I’m going to keep Patsy here with me. You go on home to Ronan and have him cook for you.”

  “Never gonna happen,” Laura told her on a laugh. “Besides, Patsy wouldn’t leave now even if I wanted her to—which I don’t—she’s
too crazy about Fiona.”

  Georgia looked down at the tiny baby cuddled in her arms and smiled wistfully. Milk-white skin, jet-black eyelashes lying in a curve on tiny, round cheeks. Wisps of reddish-brown hair and a tiny mouth pursed in sleep. A well of love opened in Georgia’s heart, and she wondered how anything so young, so helpless, could completely change the look of the entire world in less than a month.

  “Can’t blame Patsy for that. I know I’m Fiona’s aunt, but really, isn’t she just beautiful?”

  “I think so,” Laura answered, and plopped down onto Georgia’s new bed. “It’s so huge, Georgia. The love I have for her is so immense. I just never knew anything could feel like this.”

  A trickle of envy wound its way around Georgia’s heart before she recognized it, then banished it. She didn’t begrudge her sister one moment of her happiness. But Georgia could admit, at least to herself, that she wished for some of the same for herself.

  But maybe that just wasn’t going to happen for her. The whole “husband and family” thing. A pang of regret sliced through her at that thought, but she had to accept that not everyone found love. Not everyone got to have their dreams come true. And sometimes, she told herself, reality just sucked.

  “It’s terrific,” Georgia said, and jiggled the baby gently when she stirred and made a soft mewing sound. “You’ve got Ronan, Fiona, you’re painting again…” As Georgia had given up on her design dreams to sell real estate, Laura had set aside her paints and easel in favor of practicality. Knowing that she’d rediscovered her art, had found the inspiration to begin painting again, made Georgia’s heart swell. “I’m really happy for you, Laura.”

  “I know you are,” her sister said. “I want you to be happy, too, you know.”

  “Sure I know. But I am happy,” Georgia said, adding a smile to the words to really sell it. “Honest. I’m starting a new business. I’m moving to a new country. I’ve got a brand-new niece and a new home—what’s not to be happy about?”

  “I notice you didn’t mention your new faux fiancé.”

  Georgia frowned a bit. “I don’t have Sean.”

  “As far as the whole village of Dunley is concerned you do.”

  “Laura…” Georgia sighed a little, then crossed the bedroom and handed the baby back to her mother. She understood why her sister was concerned, but hearing about it all the time didn’t help and it didn’t change anything.

  “All I’m saying is,” Laura said, as she snuggled her daughter close, “well, I don’t really know what I’m saying. But the point is, I’m worried about you.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “Oh, okay. All better.” Laura blew out an exasperated breath. “I love Sean and all, but you’re my sister, and I’m worried that this is going to blow up in your face. The whole village is counting on this wedding now. What happens when you call it off?”

  Niggling doubts had Georgia chewing at her bottom lip. Hadn’t she been concerned about the same thing from the very beginning? Everyone in Dunley was excited about the “wedding.” Ailish had ordered a cake from the baker and then gleefully told Georgia that it was all taken care of.

  “I don’t know, but it’s too late to worry about that now,” she said firmly, and crossed the room to tug at the hem of the new curtains over one of the three narrow windows overlooking Sean’s faery wood. A smile curved her mouth as she thought of him.

  “I see that.”

  “What?”

  “That smile. You’re thinking about him.”

  “Stop being insightful. It’s disturbing.”

  Laura laughed and shook her head. “Fine. I’ll back off. For now.”

  “It’s appreciated.” Georgia didn’t need her sister’s worries crowding into her head. She barely had room for her own.

  “So, do you need help packing?”

  Now it was Georgia’s turn to laugh. “For a trip I’m not taking until next week?”

  “Fine, fine.” Laura sighed a little. “I’m just trying to help out. I want you settled in and happy here, Georgia.”

  “I am.” She looked around the bedroom of her new cottage.

  It really helped knowing the owner, since Sean had given her the keys so she could move in before escrow closed on the place. It was good to have her own home, even though it wouldn’t really feel like hers until she had some of her own furniture and things around her. Thank God, though, as a rental it had come furnished, so she at least had a place to sit and sleep, and pots and pans for the kitchen.

  She’d taken the smaller of the two cottages Sean had shown her. The other one had been a row cottage, differentiated from the homes on either side of it only by the shade of emerald green painted on the front door. It was bigger and more modern, but the moment Georgia had seen this one, she’d been lost.

  Mainly because this cottage appealed to her sense of whimsy.

  It was a freestanding home, with a thatched roof and white-washed walls. Empty flower boxes were attached to the front windows like hope for spring. The door was fire-engine red, and the back door opened onto a tiny yard with a flower bed and a path that led into the faery wood.

  The living room was small, with colorful rugs strewn across a cement floor that was painted a deep blue. A child-sized fireplace was tucked into one wall with two chairs pulled up in front of it. The kitchen was like something out of the forties, but everything worked beautifully. The staircase to the second floor was as steep as a ladder, and her bedroom was small with her bed snuggled under a sloping ceiling. But the windows looked out over the woods, and the bathroom had been updated recently to include a tub big enough to stretch out in.

  It was a fairy-tale cottage, and Georgia already loved it.

  This would be her first night in her new place, and she was anxious to nudge Laura on her way so that she could relax in that beautiful tub and pour herself a glass of wine to celebrate the brand-new chapter in her life.

  “It is a great cottage.” Laura looked at her for a long minute then frowned and asked, “You sure you don’t want Fiona and me along for the trip back to California?”

  “Absolutely not.” On this, Georgia was firm. “I’m not going to be there for long, and all I have to do is sign the papers to put the condo up for sale. After that, when they find a buyer for the place, they can fax me the paperwork and I’ll handle it from here. Then I’ll arrange for my stuff to be shipped to Ireland and I’ll be done. Besides,” she added with a grim nod, “when I leave California, I’ll be stopping in Ohio for the wedding.”

  Laura shook her head. “Why you’re insisting on going to that is beyond me. I mean come on. You’re over Mike, so what do you care?”

  “I don’t.” And she realized as she said it that she really didn’t care about her ex-husband and his soon-to-be wife, the husband-stealing former cheerleader. After all, if Mike hadn’t been willing to cheat on his wife, Misty never would have gotten him in the first place.

  So Georgia figured she was much better off without him anyway. “It’s the principle of the thing, really. You know damn well Misty only sent me that tacky invitation to rub in my face that she and Mike are getting married. They never for a minute expect me to show up. So why shouldn’t I? At the very least I should be allowed the pleasure of ruining their big day for them.”

  Laura chuckled. “I guess you’re right. And seriously? Misty deserves to be miserable.”

  “She will be,” Georgia promised with a laugh. “She’s marrying Mike, after all. May they be blessed with a dozen sons, every one of them just like their father.”

  “Wow,” Laura said, obviously impressed, “you’re really getting the hang of being Irish. A blessing and a curse all at the same time.”

  “It’s a gift.”

  Georgia glanced down at her ring finger. She still wasn’t entirely accustomed to the weight of the emerald and diamond ring Sean had given her for the length of their “engagement.”

  The dark green of the stone swam with color, and the diamonds winked i
n the light. It occurred to her then that while her new life was beginning with a lie—Mike was apparently happy with his. It didn’t matter so much to her anymore, though Georgia could admit, if only to herself, that she’d spent far too much time wrapped up in anger and bitterness and wishing a meteor to crash down on her ex-husband’s head.

  It was irritating to have to acknowledge just how much time she had wasted and how much useless energy had been spent thinking about how her marriage had ended while the man who had made her so miserable wasn’t suffering at all.

  She had locked her heart away to avoid being hurt again, which was just stupid. She could see that now. Being hurt only meant that you were alive enough to feel it. And if her soul wasn’t alive, then why bother going through the motions trying to pretend different? At least, she told herself, using her thumb against the gleaming gold band of the ring on her finger, she’d gotten past it, had moved on.

  Then a voice inside her laughed. Sure, she’d moved on. To a ring that meant nothing and planning a fake future with a fake fiancé.

  Wow. How had all of this happened anyway?

  Still befuddled by her train of thought, she didn’t notice Laura scooting off the bed until her sister was standing beside her.

  “I should gather up Patsy and go,” she said. “It’s nearly time to feed Fiona, and Ronan’s probably starving, as well.”

  Pleased at the idea of having some time to herself, Georgia lovingly nudged her sister to the door. “Go home. Feed the baby. Kiss your husband. I’ve got a lot to do around here before I leave for my trip next week. Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to nag me before I leave. And then I’ll be back before you even miss me.”

  “Okay.” Laura gave her a one-armed hug and kissed her cheek. “Be careful. And for heaven’s sake, take a picture of Misty’s wedding gown. That’s bound to be entertaining.”

  Laughing, Georgia vowed, “I will.”

  “And about Sean—”

  “You said you were backing off.”

  “Right.” Laura snapped her mouth shut firmly, took a breath and said, “Okay, then. Enjoy your new house and the supper Patsy left for you. Then have a great trip with your pretend fiancé and hurry home.”