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Authors: Grace Burrowes
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have been a lousy dad.”
She’d longed for children, then, but hadn’t brought them into a marriage she’d regretted probably from its inception.
Niall kissed her, because to say she’d make a wonderful mother would simply add injury to the insult her ex had done her. Julie relaxed into the kiss, sinking a hand in Niall’s hair and letting him have her weight.
He was about to insinuate a thigh between her legs and go after her perfect bun when the front door opened and Jeannie bustled through, a dripping umbrella in her hand.
“I wouldn’t take that job if it were—oh, beg pardon.” She tapped the point of her Winnie the Pooh brolly on the flagstones, creating a shower pattern near her boots. “You’ll want to watch that cuddling. It can have permanent consequences.”
Niall kept one arm looped around Julie’s shoulder. “I hadn’t realized it was raining. Henry went down about an hour ago.”
Jeannie hung her jacket on a hook and left Pooh dripping against the door.
“Then he’ll be up in no—you cleaned! Oh, you cleaned and tidied! I almost called to ask you to get a casserole out of the freezer—and you vacuumed, and I hear the dryer, and oh, Niall.”
Never had a woman looked at Niall as Jeannie was regarding him then, as if her every wish had been granted, as if he’d given her the ability to hit a hole in one at will.
“He changed diapers too,” Julie said, squeezing Niall’s hand. “You and Henry have a very lovely relation in Niall Cromarty.”
“You think Niall’s lovely?” Jeannie asked, crossing to the kitchen where she peered at the empty sink as if the gleaming stainless steel were a beautiful, recently exposed archaeological mosaic. “Niall, you’d best marry this one. Women who think you’re lovely don’t come along all that often.”
Jeannie grinned, because members of the Cromarty family teased each other, but she was wrong. A woman who found Niall lovely wasn’t a rare occurrence in his life at all.
It was utterly unprecedented.
***
Thank God for Scottish rain.
Julie got a parting hug from Jeannie, Niall endured a kiss to his cheek and a smack on the arm, then Henry made waking baby noises, and all of Jeannie’s attention became riveted on the bedroom at the end of the hall.
Julie braved the downpour to race out to Niall’s car, only to once again attempt to open the driver’s side door, much to Niall’s amusement.
“We can hit balls in the rain,” Niall said as he started the engine, “provided there’s no lightning. I’ve even golfed when it was snowing. We’ll get thoroughly soaked, and thus force the sun to reappear.”
Niall, thoroughly soaked.
Julie would be lucky to recall which end of the club did what if she dwelled on that image for long.
“I’m not dedicated to impersonating a weather goddess,” Julie said. “Can we find another one of those fish and chips meals?”
“My thought exactly.”
Even in the rain, the village was pretty. The low granite houses wore the wet with a casual indifference. The flowers were just as cheery, and children played in a flooded gutter, stomping their boots and shrieking as they dodged the resulting mess.
“I love that sound,” Julie said as Niall cut the engine outside The Wild Hare.
“The rain?” he asked, making no move to leave the car.
“The laughter of children. Being a prosecutor, you don’t hear much laughter, unless it’s nasty, gallows humor laughter. The streets without laughing children are the streets where crime is most likely to make fools of us all.”
“You Americans like your guns,” Niall said. “We Scots used to be the same way. Every man armed, the women carrying daggers in their bodices, all of society divided into complicated lines of allies and enemies. A tiring way to go on, as best I can make out, and it wastes effort fighting that could be spent solving problems and pulling together.”
“We Americans like our freedoms,” Julie said as a clap of thunder
She’d longed for children, then, but hadn’t brought them into a marriage she’d regretted probably from its inception.
Niall kissed her, because to say she’d make a wonderful mother would simply add injury to the insult her ex had done her. Julie relaxed into the kiss, sinking a hand in Niall’s hair and letting him have her weight.
He was about to insinuate a thigh between her legs and go after her perfect bun when the front door opened and Jeannie bustled through, a dripping umbrella in her hand.
“I wouldn’t take that job if it were—oh, beg pardon.” She tapped the point of her Winnie the Pooh brolly on the flagstones, creating a shower pattern near her boots. “You’ll want to watch that cuddling. It can have permanent consequences.”
Niall kept one arm looped around Julie’s shoulder. “I hadn’t realized it was raining. Henry went down about an hour ago.”
Jeannie hung her jacket on a hook and left Pooh dripping against the door.
“Then he’ll be up in no—you cleaned! Oh, you cleaned and tidied! I almost called to ask you to get a casserole out of the freezer—and you vacuumed, and I hear the dryer, and oh, Niall.”
Never had a woman looked at Niall as Jeannie was regarding him then, as if her every wish had been granted, as if he’d given her the ability to hit a hole in one at will.
“He changed diapers too,” Julie said, squeezing Niall’s hand. “You and Henry have a very lovely relation in Niall Cromarty.”
“You think Niall’s lovely?” Jeannie asked, crossing to the kitchen where she peered at the empty sink as if the gleaming stainless steel were a beautiful, recently exposed archaeological mosaic. “Niall, you’d best marry this one. Women who think you’re lovely don’t come along all that often.”
Jeannie grinned, because members of the Cromarty family teased each other, but she was wrong. A woman who found Niall lovely wasn’t a rare occurrence in his life at all.
It was utterly unprecedented.
***
Thank God for Scottish rain.
Julie got a parting hug from Jeannie, Niall endured a kiss to his cheek and a smack on the arm, then Henry made waking baby noises, and all of Jeannie’s attention became riveted on the bedroom at the end of the hall.
Julie braved the downpour to race out to Niall’s car, only to once again attempt to open the driver’s side door, much to Niall’s amusement.
“We can hit balls in the rain,” Niall said as he started the engine, “provided there’s no lightning. I’ve even golfed when it was snowing. We’ll get thoroughly soaked, and thus force the sun to reappear.”
Niall, thoroughly soaked.
Julie would be lucky to recall which end of the club did what if she dwelled on that image for long.
“I’m not dedicated to impersonating a weather goddess,” Julie said. “Can we find another one of those fish and chips meals?”
“My thought exactly.”
Even in the rain, the village was pretty. The low granite houses wore the wet with a casual indifference. The flowers were just as cheery, and children played in a flooded gutter, stomping their boots and shrieking as they dodged the resulting mess.
“I love that sound,” Julie said as Niall cut the engine outside The Wild Hare.
“The rain?” he asked, making no move to leave the car.
“The laughter of children. Being a prosecutor, you don’t hear much laughter, unless it’s nasty, gallows humor laughter. The streets without laughing children are the streets where crime is most likely to make fools of us all.”
“You Americans like your guns,” Niall said. “We Scots used to be the same way. Every man armed, the women carrying daggers in their bodices, all of society divided into complicated lines of allies and enemies. A tiring way to go on, as best I can make out, and it wastes effort fighting that could be spent solving problems and pulling together.”
“We Americans like our freedoms,” Julie said as a clap of thunder
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