Chapter 12

For about the thousandth time, Rory wondered what the hell he was doing. The house—mansion if described accurately—teemed with people. He managed to get close enough to the bar set up in the massive, open living area to order. The bartender pulled him a draft Guinness from a tapped keg and with negligence born of experience tipped a bottle over a wine glass. Rory carried the fragile crystal stem filled with a white wine of some sort—Sauvignon Blanc or something like that—as if the glass was a live bomb. He located Delaney across the sea of humanity and with single-minded purpose, wove and dodged through the revelers to reach her side.

His heart tripped a couple of beats as her face lit up when she saw him. Her smile touched every inch of her—her shoulders and chin lifted, the frown on her brow relaxed, and her eyes warmed but still twinkled. And her mouth. Art critics raved about the Mona Lisa. That dame had nothing on Delaney Burns. Her full bottom lip beckoned him with wanton disregard despite her admonishments to keep things professional between them.

She’d been in need of an escort to this shindig. And she trusted him to be a gentleman. He felt his cheeks crinkle as his mouth curled into the wicked grin that mirrored his thoughts. He’d be professional, a colleague only during the party, but once he got her in his truck, Rory had every intention of taking her home with him. To his bed. He’d waited long enough to claim what was his.

Mine. The word echoed in his mind but he no longer fought the sensation, nor the voice which replied, Yours. He wasn’t crazy. And maybe, just maybe, he’d find the woman he was meant to love for the rest of his life. His heart already knew that woman’s name was Delaney. His body craved hers with a need bordering on pain. He just had to convince her of the…rightness of their being together. He liked the way that sounded in his head. He felt right when he was in her presence.

“Sauvignon Blanc for the lady.” He almost had to shout the words as he handed her the glass with a flourish. Her fingers touched his as she retrieved the drink, and the hum of strident conversation faded to the pastoral buzz of bees. All his senses went hyper, like the moment when he first sighted a target through the scope of his sniper rifle. His hearing seemed so acute he swore he could hear the sound of her heart beating. His nostrils flared as her fragrance washed over him—a blend of orange, cinnamon, and sweet cream that reminded him of Christmas. He wanted to wear her scent, rubbing against her to get it on his skin so he could smell her always. Her fingers on his felt like silk rubbing against suede—fingers that were long and slender, nails, pink with white tips. He wanted to feel those nails digging into his shoulders, scratching his back as he pushed into her over and over until her breath hitched and she screamed out his name.

Delaney’s eyes widened, and he wondered if the same thoughts occurred to her. His gaze dropped to her lips, and he wanted to run his tongue over them, to fasten his mouth on hers and kiss the breath from her. He hardened, painfully so, and wanted to press against her, rubbing his erection against her abdomen to show her the effect she had on him. Her nostrils flared and her chest rose and fell as she all but panted. Her breasts strained against the soft drape of the material covering them, and his hands itched to cup them, to feel her pebbled nipples pressing into his palms.

The ebb and flow of the crowd didn’t touch them. They’d created their own little eddy in the corner, and it was as if a bubble surrounded them, cutting them off from the noise and notice of the other party-goers. Intent on Delaney and his feelings for her, Rory ignored the prickle of warning on the back of his neck. He felt reckless, daring, and he wanted this woman with his entire being. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he’d wanted anything more. He would live or die by her smile, her touch.

“Jeez, Delaney, what’s gotten into you? You might as well be screwing the guy right here in the corner.”

He jerked like someone had hit him and only the iron grip he maintained on his self-control kept him from throwing his beer in the face of the offender, Nessa, Delaney’s sister. They’d met briefly, upon their arrival, and the woman had grated on his nerves even then. Delaney flushed and he turned, shielding her from Nessa’s probing glare. With a cold smile and narrowed eyes hinting at the predator he was, he stared at Nessa like she was his next prey until she looked away, her eyes sliding to the side.

“Did you need something, Nessa?” He intentionally growled the question, to reinforce their positions.

“Connor’s parents have arrived. They want to meet Delaney.”

Nessa wouldn’t meet his gaze and her tone of voice irritated him. It was pure negligence—as if introducing Delaney to her future in-laws was strictly an afterthought, a formality to be dealt with before sticking Delaney in a corner. Nobody would ever ignore Delaney again if he had anything to say about it.

He turned and offered his hand to Delaney. She set down her untouched wineglass and took his hand. Her fingers felt cold. He rubbed his thumb over them to add warmth. “Let’s get this over with.”

They’d taken maybe half a dozen steps, with Nessa leading, when Connor appeared at her side. He planted himself in front of Rory and bristled like a…hedgehog. Rory choked back laughter at the image. The pup looked like he wanted to fight, and while Connor might be in good shape, he’d lose in a heartbeat.

Between one heartbeat and the next, Rory’s whole body stilled. His expression went blank as he narrowed his eyes, regarding the younger man. They might be only a year or two apart in actual age but the other man felt like a kid to him, as if his experience far outstripped Connor’s. Everything about his demeanor screamed menace. The people standing nearby felt it, too. As their conversations tumbled into silence, the whole room seemed to hold its collective breath.

“This must be your sister, Nessa.” A woman appeared, and she extended her hand toward Delaney.

Rory studied Connor’s mother when Delaney extended her own hand. “Delaney Burns, Mrs. MacDermot.”

“Oh, heavens. Please call me Becca. We’ll be family soon and I’ve never been one to stand on formality.”

The woman’s gaze flicked to him and lingered, as if she found him an interesting specimen. The intensity of her scrutiny made him want run his finger under his collar to loosen it. This woman had presence, regal and serene. She’d dominate any company around her. Except him. He shook the image of a recalcitrant schoolboy being chastised out of his brain and raised his chin just a hair meeting her gaze dead on.

“This is my…friend, Rory MacDermot.” Delaney tripped over how to label him.

If he hadn’t been watching the woman so closely, he would have missed the flicker in her eyes and the momentary shock that registered on her face before she recovered her equilibrium. Now that was interesting. She acted almost as if she knew his name—or him. The woman held out her hand to him, and out of habit he took it.

“I am very pleased to meet you, Rory MacDermot.”

Something in her mysterious smile and her voice made him believe she meant that sincerely. Her hand felt fragile in his, but as she gripped back, her strength belied the delicacy. Her unwavering gaze met his, and she even smiled just a little when his poker face dropped into place. It was as if she knew the reason for his mask.

Becca slipped her arms through those of Connor and Nessa and turned them. “Come, children. I know Kieran is looking forward to meeting Delaney and…Rory.” She glanced back over her shoulder before she added his name, and again her smile hinted she knew something no one else did. He reached down and reclaimed Delaney’s hand before he started after them.

Delaney tugged on his hand and he stopped. She rose on tiptoes and whispered in his ear, “You make good cop face.” Then she giggled.

That sound loosened the bands in his chest, and the constrictions on his breathing eased. As long as he could make her smile, could make her laugh, he’d be complete. He grinned and the change in his expression caused his cheek to brush against hers. “I do what I can,” he whispered back. He slipped his arm over her shoulder and urged her through the crowd again. They caught up to the other three. Like a queen, Becca strode through the crush, and as if she projected some sort of force field, people parted to let them pass. Rory figured this woman pretty much got whatever she wanted, and if she didn’t, she wasn’t afraid to take it herself.

Becca led them through some open French doors, and they stepped outside to a covered patio area with a sparkling pool. A man held court near the brick outdoor kitchen. A head taller than anyone in the bunch gathered around him, his neatly trimmed black hair glinted with blue highlights every time he moved his head. Rory was immediately reminded of a raven. Kieran MacDermot’s dark blue eyes tracked his wife’s progress and heated as she neared. The sexual energy ramped up more than a few degrees as she slipped under his arm and he dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

“I have some very interesting introductions to make, darling.”

Rory caught the inflection and wondered about it, given the woman’s own reaction to him. Why would they find him interesting?

“Kieran, this is Nessa’s lovely sister, Delaney. And her friend, Rory MacDermot.” Becca wasn’t looking at them as she made introductions. Her eyes remained glued to her husband, watching for his reaction.

What the hell was going on here? He saw a flicker of recognition in Kieran’s eyes, the slight narrowing of his brows, and the tightening of his mouth. The expression was fleeting, quickly replaced by one well schooled.

“May I call you Rory, Mr. MacDermot?” Kieran extended his hand.

Rory gripped it and a profound sense of déjà vu settled on him. He knew this man. And more troubling, this man knew him. They stared into each other’s eyes, neither blinking, in a silent communion. Once again, sound retreated and he was encased in a bubble insulating him from everyone but Kieran MacDermot. No. Not everyone. Becca remained inside the bubble, there beneath Kieran’s arm. Aware of warmth at his own side, he realized his arm still circled Delaney’s shoulders as she slipped her arm around his waist.

He shook his head, feeling like a dog emerging from water and shaking off the excess. Sound returned. Music. Laughter. The clink of glasses.

“I’ve waited a long time to meet you, Rory.”

He tilted his head, studying the other man and almost smiled as Kieran mirrored the attitude.

“You are well?” Kieran’s eyes flicked toward Delaney.

Rory pondered the odd question. “I am.”

Kieran nodded then and his expression relaxed as he released Rory’s hand. “Connor tells me you are a police officer?”

“And he told me you were an Irish Army Ranger.”

The other man chuckled. “Aye, that I was. Among other things, then and now. You saw military service as well, I suspect.”

“I did. United States Marine Corps.”

“Always the warrior and protector, Rory.”

Cold fingers skittered up his spine, and he wondered if someone walked across his grave. He had the distinct feeling that Kieran wanted to say more but was worried he’d think the man crazy. He was more concerned about his own reactions. They were crazy—this sense of familiarity, of loss, of…kinship. Becca and Kieran exchanged glances again before they both studied him, waiting for a reaction or comment. He offered neither. Until he knew the angle of this slippery slope, he wasn’t climbing it.

Any further introspection ended with the announcement that dinner would be served as soon as the guests were seated. Uniformed staff herded everyone to a huge tent set up on the expansive lawn. Rory’s vision wavered as he ducked through the flaps. A hint of peat smoke and roasted meat bullied his senses. The head table presided over the rest of the room. Kieran and Becca led the way, ushering Delaney’s parents with them. Connor escorted Nessa, and a young man he didn’t recognize, but guessed from his looks to be Keegan Burns, escorted a beauty with long black hair. Anyone could tell the young woman had to be Connor’s twin. As folks milled about the tables looking for the place cards with their names, Rory realized that Kieran kept the two seats next to him open. The older man caught his attention and waved him forward.

“Looks like we have a command performance, Doc. You ready for it?” Her hand trembled in his and he squeezed gently. “C’mon. We’ll do this together.”

They took their places at the table, Rory seated at Kieran’s right hand, Delaney to his right, and her parents next to her. Becca sat on Kieran’s left, with Connor, Nessa, Ciara, and Keegan, next to them. As people took their places, Delaney quickly introduced him to the rest of her family. After a great deal of milling about, people sorted out and settled in. Wait staff filled wine glasses, and Kieran raised his in a toast to the upcoming nuptials. Rory managed to hide the shudder that word created, but didn’t bother to suppress the righteous outrage he felt for Delaney’s situation. She’d warned him her family was classically dysfunctional, but it took a stone cold bitch to move in on the man your sister loved.

Rory glanced at Delaney and wondered how she felt. She’d made it clear he was simply a substitute for Connor. He didn’t mind. For the moment. Being close to her like this gave him a chance to prove her wrong. He wasn’t a substitute for Connor or any other man. Each time he held her hand and gazed into her eyes, or made her nostrils flare and caused her breath to hitch in her chest, he moved that much closer to making her his.

Yours.

Yes, she was his, finally. And he would spend the rest of his days proving that to her. He covered the laughter the thought caused. No one in his unit would believe he was sitting in a starched shirt that chafed his neck, wearing a monkey suit and bow tie, while contemplating loving one woman for the rest of his life. He’d always been a “love ’em and leave ’em” kind of guy. But he’d also been honest with the women he’d dated. He told them going in he didn’t believe in long-term relationships, love, or marriage. Until the first time he’d laid eyes on Dr. Delaney Burns. Until the first time her voice whispered in his earpiece. Until the first time he’d leaned across her desk and brushed his lips across hers.

Mine.