Free The Saint by Kathleen O`Brien Page B

with me.”
    She frowned. He had to be kidding. “To Aurora York’s party?”
    â€œSure. It’s just the Ringmaster nomination foolishness. It’ll be crazy, but we may get a few minutes to talk. Even if we don’t, I can take you to the hotel afterward, and we’ll have lots of time to talk on the way.”
    â€œI don’t think so.” She couldn’t imagine herself there. It was the kind of high society snob-fest that no one would have dreamed of inviting her to two years ago. Poor young teachers from the wrong sideof the tracks were not considered for admission to the Ringmistress court. “We can talk tomorrow.”
    â€œClaire, please. There’s so much we haven’t said, so much I haven’t explained. I have a feeling I’ve expressed myself very badly. If you leave now, before you understand my position, you might—”
    She laughed roughly. She understood his position, all right. He was dismayed that she was having his baby, horrified at her proposal that they cobble together even a short-term marriage. He couldn’t have been much clearer than that. Tomorrow he might phrase it all more diplomatically, but she wondered if there was much chance that the underlying emotions would change.
    Still, she couldn’t give up yet. She had to believe that his conscience would be strong enough to overrule his emotions. He might eventually do the right thing—there was a reason they called him St. Kieran, after all.
    He touched her arm. “I don’t want you to be alone right now. I don’t want to you to start feeling—to start considering—”
    She knew what he was trying to say. “You don’t need to worry. I intend to keep this child whether you agree to my plan or not. I won’t run away, and I won’t do anything stupid.”
    He tilted his head and smiled at her. It was his first genuine smile of the evening, and it kicked off another bout of seesawing hormones. She swallowed hard and looked away.
    â€œI know you won’t.” He took her chin in his fingers and turned her face back to his. “But we have to start somewhere, don’t we? If you can’t spend asingle evening as my date, how can you possibly contemplate an entire year as my wife?”
    Â 
    â€œS O IF YOU WERE TO ASK ME ,” Roddy Hartland said, grinning as he joined Kieran at the patio bar, “I’d say some sneaky old Heyday hound dog has been keeping secrets from his best friend.”
    Kieran followed Roddy’s gaze to the other side of the back yard, where Aurora was introducing Claire Strickland to several elegantly dressed middle-age ladies.
    â€œI’ll be careful not to ask you, then,” he said, plucking a beer from the white-draped table and walking to the edge of the sparkling blue pool. He didn’t mean to be rude, but he wasn’t in the mood for Roddy’s irrepressible curiosity.
    Practically from the moment they arrived, Aurora had confiscated Claire and trotted her around as if she were the new discovery of the social season. Kieran hadn’t had a minute alone with Claire to talk about anything personal. Not that he was sure what he’d say anyhow. His brain felt like a downed electrical wire, twisting and sparking randomly, without making any useful connections at all.
    It was a little like walking through a nightmare, although, if it were, at least he could hang on to the distant hope that maybe he’d wake up soon.
    But it all felt real enough. The people buzzing around, talking and laughing. The musicians playing. The anxiety in the air as every eligible young man and woman wondered if they’d be nominated for the Ringmaster Court.
    God, did things like that still matter to anyone? To Kieran, it all seemed like something happening onanother planet. As he stared down, a summer breeze smudged the pool’s surface, blurring the reflection of tiki torches. He’d like to be