“You, Kaitie lass, have taken my breath away more times this evening than I can count.”
She gave him a sly smile, winking at him. “Just wait until later.”
He laughed and danced slowly with her. “Beautiful, in so many ways.”
“Well, same goes, handsome,” she said, lacing her fingers into the hair at his nape.
“I have a present to give you,” he told her.
“You do? What?” she asked, pulling back, or as much as he’d let her.
He smiled down at her. “You have to wait until tomorrow. Though, I’ll give you a hint.”
“A hint? That’s all I get? I must be losing my touch.”
“It’s sort of blue.”
“Sort of blue? How can something be sort of blue?” She shook her head. “What is sort of blue?”
“Turquoise?”
She tilted her head as he twirled her out and then back in. “Tell me.”
“Well, to be honest, I got you more than one gift.”
“Jock Kinncaid! We said no gifts.”
“Did we?”
“Yes! I said I didn’t want to do the gift thing, I didn’t have a clue what to get you. You have at least one of everything.”
“You did say that, yes.” He spun them in a circle. “But I never agreed. Memory serves, I simply smiled at you. I thought you were cute.”
“You always think I’m cute.”
“Mostly, yes. I also think you’re beautiful, amazing, and often very irritating.”
“But you love me anyway.”
He stared at her. “I do, yes. I do. More than anything.”
She settled against him and sighed. As the song wound down another one started. She leaned in and said, “My gift to you is better than any you’ve gotten me.”
“Really? I thought you were against gifts.”
“Well, things change.”
She nodded and wiggled back as “One Fine Day” started and the dance floor filled quickly.
“So tell me,” he said, jerking her to him and dancing her along the floor.
She laughed. “I should make you wait, but I’ve waited already and I don’t think I can wait too much longer.”
“Secrets, Kaitie?”
“Oh, you’ll like this one. I think this is my favorite song. Because this is one fine day! The very, very best.”
He pulled her closer and kissed her. “So, what did you get me?”
“I think I should make you wait.”
“Or you can tell me now and we’ll give each other our gifts in the morning.” After they’d had one hell of a wedding night.
“Hmm. I can?” she said. “I don’t know that I like that idea.”
“Kaitie.”
“Well, I can tell you about it tonight, but I’m sorry, I can’t give it to you tomorrow.”
“Why not?” he asked.
She grinned up at him, then leaned closer. “Well, it won’t be ready by then.”
“Ready?” He tilted his head and pulled her closer. “Just when will it be ready?” he asked, his heart beating faster.
She licked her lips. “A while.”
“Kaitlyn.”
She grinned. “Jock.”
He simply stared at her. “Kaitlyn.”
She twirled away, but he pulled her back to him.
Smiling, she leaned up and said softly, “Well, remember that night, when your protection . . . um . . . had a malfunction?”
His rubber had busted.
He stopped in the middle of the dance floor, holding her hands, and could only stare at her. “Kaitlyn?”
“So, med school might have to wait. I don’t know yet and—”
“Kaitlyn.”
She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Jock.”
“You’re playing with me, and now, about this, is not the time.” His heart slammed in his chest.
“Spoilsport.”
Still he only looked at her.
“Fine. You’re not just getting a wife today.”
“I’m not?” He glanced down at her belly. “Are you certain?”
“I went to the doctor three days ago while you had meetings. I’m pregnant, Jock.” She licked her lips, her eyes dancing, but wary.
For a long minute he could only stare at her.
Pregnant.
A baby.
His baby.
Her baby.
Their baby.
“Jock?” she asked, her smile sliding away. “You said you wanted a big family. I thought. You said—”
“A baby?”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, as far as I’m aware humans have yet to breed anything other than humans and—”
“A baby?” he whispered and pulled her closer, kissing her until they were both gasping for breath.
“One Fine Day” continued to rock the dance floor.
He lifted his head and looked into her happy yet wary green eyes. “A baby? We’re having a baby?”
She nodded. “You’re happy?”
“Happy?” He pulled her off her feet and swung her around laughing. “I didn’t think this day could get any better, but damn, Kaitie lass!” He kissed her again. “We’re having a baby,” he said softly.
He laughed and danced her until the song ended. He pulled her to him, tucking her close. “Kaitlyn Kinncaid, I love you!”
“You better. We’re rather stuck together now.”
He narrowed his eyes at her.
“Fine. I love you, too, even as bossy as you are.”
“I figured as much.”
The band started up his song and she laughed.
He wiggled his brows. “I told you this is our song.”
Freddie and the Dreamers. “You were made for me . . .”
And she was. Made for him. Carrying his child. A life they were starting together. He took her hand and led her onto the torch-lit lawns.
For a moment he just held her, her back to his front. He moved her hair aside and leaned down, breathing in the clean scent, lightly floral from the soap she used. Jock kissed that patch of skin where her neck met her shoulder. She shivered.
“I can’t believe you’re finally mine,” he muttered.
“Me either,” she whispered.
He sighed, turned her around and settled a hand over her lower belly. A baby.
“You know, when we met at the lake I was reading Yeats, but ever since our weekend there, especially since you agreed to marry me in Ireland, it’s Keats that runs through my mind.”
“Keats?”
“I was so tired of it all, of them all . . .” He jerked his head toward the tent. “And then I saw you. At the lake . . .” He shook his head.
“Okay, what does Keats have to do with us at the lake, Ireland?”
He waited until her eyes met his. “‘I love you the more in that I believe you had liked me for my own sake and for nothing else.’”
She smiled up at him, her hand cupping his jaw. “Poor Jock, beleaguered by the hordes of women wanting.”
“Not me. None of them ever even saw me. They only saw or knew my name, my money, the house. But not you, never you. You were different from the first moment I saw you. I knew then, you were mine. When I got to know you, well, there was nothing short of God himself that would have made me let you go.”
She picked up the hand he slightly rubbed on her stomach and kissed his palm. “My Jock. Just a man, but mine.”
He smiled at her. “I thought you thought I was godly.”
She snorted and leaned into his kiss. “Only in the bedroom.”
“I can deal with that.”
They kissed a bit more until he pulled away again. “So many blessings, Kaitie.”
“It’s all just beginning, isn’t it?” she asked him. He held her in his arms and continued to kiss her.
“A beginning worth waiting for.”
Chapter 13
He sat looking at the cinder-block wall. The man in the top bunk was snoring.
Landon didn’t care. He wouldn’t be in here long. His parents hadn’t answered his letter and his lawyer said he needed to stop contacting them.
His lawyer, what a joke. He needed to hire a better attorney. He’d find one. He was not staying in prison.
He’d get out. Soon.
He’d just have to be patient.
And then he’d make them pay.
A photo of her was on the wall.
Someone had sent it to him in a letter a few weeks ago, sometime around Christmas. He was rotting in jail and others were enjoying Christmas.
The judge had not granted him freaking bail.
The newsprint photo showed a woman dressed in a gown smiling up at her husband. A wedding announcement.
Jock. Fucking. Kinncaid.
Katherine should not be smiling up at another man that way.
The society pages had gushed about the guest list, about the festivities, the lovebirds and how one of the most eligible men had been taken off the market.
Katherine . . .
She was his.
He looked at the photo and knew at their wedding things would be different. He’d wear a gray suit, not a black one. And she’d be in a perfect white dress. He already had it. She’d look beautiful in the long satin dress.
She’d be perfect.
He just had to be patient. He’d be out soon and then she’d be his . . .
His to do with as he saw fit.
His to teach a lesson on loyalty.
His to make pay for putting him here and for ruining everything for him.
One day soon . . .
• • •
“I don’t like owing anyone anything,” Jock said, sitting across from Frank DeSaro.
DeSaro, dressed in a three-piece Italian suit, looked at him, his dark eyes unreadable, a half-rueful smile tilting his lips. “Neither do I. That is why I felt I should share about this matter in person.”
Dead. The bastard would be dead. Jock wanted Landon Goldburg III dead. He wouldn’t lie, part of him was . . . relieved, glad even at the mere thought, but a larger part of him was pissed he wouldn’t be the one to stop the sick man. He was honest enough with himself to know that if the cops had not been there that day in Maryland, the doctor would be dead.
DeSaro smiled. “Our families are linked, Kinncaid. I can see that. You saved my son from those bastards who were intent on robbing him.”
It hadn’t been a robbery, hadn’t just been a beating. Those guys circling the younger DeSaro had been intent on killing the kid. Jock had simply been out walking and had seen someone who needed help. Right place, right time.
“Your son is doing well?” he asked, standing then walking to the window.
DeSaro nodded. “He’s much better, thanks to you. Between his nona’s cooking and his mother’s fussing, he healed quickly. After our meeting, I finally sent him to Sicily for a bit while things cooled off here and before they drove him mad.”
Jock stared out the window, one hand in his pocket. He rubbed his lips with his forefinger. The offer was there, without so many words.
“Photos of her?” he asked, the anger licking through his veins at the mere thought of that bastard having anything, any single damned thing, of Kaitie’s.
“
Many
photos of her. My man inside does not know who is sending them to him, but I will find out. He had a large print of your very pregnant wife upon his wall. Apparently taken without her knowledge as she wasn’t looking at the camera. I believe she was in the park, with a kite.” The man’s voice dropped. “I’ve met Mrs. Kinncaid, as you well know. Lovely woman. One hesitates to think what a man like that is thinking when looking upon such goodness.”
Jock bit down and took a deep breath. He looked out over D.C. He had a wife and a child now. Ones he’d do anything to protect.
“They found him guilty of assault, but he is appealing, yes?” DeSaro asked.
Jock nodded and explained what they’d found when arriving in Maryland that day almost a year ago. “Perhaps he’ll be in prison a good long while, especially if they ever discover who the other dresses, hair, and rings belong to.”
DeSaro shrugged. “Cops and lawyers mean little to me. If you want him in prison for the rest of his days, perhaps it will be so.”
The thought of that man staring at Kaitie’s photo, let alone while she carried Jock’s child, of Goldburg thinking of her at all, twisted something in Jock, stroked a beast inside him.
“You’ll let me know when you learn how he’s receiving photos of my wife?” he asked over his shoulder.
DeSaro tilted his head.
“Thank you,” Jock finally said.
“There is nothing to thank me for. You saved my son, for that, I would do many things, Kinncaid. And this is . . . a small thing in return.”
Jock took another breath. A small thing. Right.
“Your wife had your child, yes?” DeSaro’s voice carried the rich flavors of Italy. “You now have a son of your own.”
Jock nodded again and turned back to his guest, then sat, picking up his scotch and swirling it. He couldn’t hold in the grin. “I do, yes. Aiden. His mother complains he looks too much like me.”
“Family is everything, is it not?” The dark eyes held his.
“It is,” he said. “It is indeed.”
“Then we’re agreed.”
The bastard would be dead. A threat, a shadow eliminated.
He held the other man’s eyes and nodded. “Soon would be best.”
“Soon will be best.” DeSaro smiled, held his glass up so the sun caught the facets and scattered rainbows throughout the room. “To family.”
Jock held his up as well, the old family motto running through his head.
This I’ll defend.
“To family.”