Free Stitches in Time by Diana Hunter

her father’s chair, unsmiling, controlled, professional, alone . A spinster. Spinning on her heel so he would not read the truth in her face, she turned her back to him.
    On the bed, face down, lay the tiny tapestry scrap that started it all. That blasted thing had been the catalyst that spiraled her out of control last night and threatened to do so again. What was it about that little leprechaun that moved her heart so? Her heart full, she picked it up and turned it over, once again running her finger along the edges, drinking in its every detail.
    Liam knew Maggie could not see the thumbs up sign the little man gave him, but with a frown, he hushed Seamus anyway. Maggie stood on the cusp of a great decision, although Liam doubted she knew it yet. He did not want to disturb the thoughts he had set in motion.
    How had the ancient weaver managed to find colors so vibrant? Who was she? Where had this piece come from? Questions swirled around Maggie’s brain as she considered the mystery. Liam, of course, was right. For two years she pretended she loved the company, loved the idea of taking over, while fighting the panic that she wasn’t good enough. And she wasn’t. She never would be. The realization felt like a dagger of betrayal through her heart.
    “You remind me of things I left in my past, Mr. Finnerty . My father counts on me; he has always built the company so that he might someday turn it over to his own son. Or daughter. I cannot spend my life wishing Tom back to life. I can only make the best of what I have. To turn my back on my father is not an option.”
    The words were bitter in her mouth. Setting the tapestry onto the bed, her finger trailed along the edge one last time before she turned away.
    “Maggie…” Liam tried to stop her as she stepped toward the bathroom.
    “Grab her, man! Don’t just stand there like some bloody doormat!”
    In desperation, Liam followed Seamus’ advice. Taking a step to block the door, he grabbed her shoulders to prevent her from running away.
    “Maggie, you have to get rid of your martyr complex. You don’t owe this to your father—and he has no right to ask it of you. I remember how surprised he was when you came to him after Tom’s funeral and told him you’d like to learn how to lead. He didn’t expect it of you, then.”
    “But he does now.”
    “Yes, because your act has convinced him you love what you’re doing. But a blind man can see you hate it.”
    “I fooled you. Until that blasted tapestry showed up.”
    “Well, you have me there. I was convinced you were just a tight-ass with no personality.”
    Liam knew the words hurt her, but he didn’t back down. He had fallen in love with the woman underneath. If being candid was the only way to make her realize she was living a lie, then candid he would be.
    “Maggie, you tried so hard to bury the artistic side of you that you went and buried your passion along with it. I’ve seen how much you love art, and last night I felt your passion.” His voice gentled as his fingers traced the line of her jaw. “Maggie, you are a beautiful woman when you aren’t hiding from yourself.”
    Her eyes dropped as she fought back the tears. “Oh, Liam, you don’t understand. I can’t…I can’t let my father down.”
    She looked like a wounded dove. Sliding his hand under his chin, he tilted her head up and watched a tear escape to slide down her cheek. With his thumb, he brushed it away and bent to kiss her quivering red lips.
    Maggie’s control hung by a thread. She stood very still as Liam’s lips touched hers, desperately trying not to give in. For two years she had been a pillar of steel, denying the life she wanted. Her shoulders slumped as she leaned into him and returned his kiss.
    Liam wanted her. God help him, but her pain fanned the embers inside him. His protective nature ignited and he imagined himself with great big wings that he could fold over the two of them, giving her refuge. When he heard