‘I got told off for telling her she’s fat,’ Jessie observed indignantly, sinking down into an armchair and helping herself to a handful of nibbles.
‘She isn’t fat,’ their father put in.
‘Yet!’ Jessie chortled.
‘Mary was the size of a house with Jessie early on, but she kept her figure until quite late on with you. You’ll probably be the same with the first,’ Bill recalled, frowning at his younger daughter as she stuffed another handful of bite-size delicacies into her mouth. ‘You’ll spoil your meal.’
They all assumed! Of course they all assumed he knew—why wouldn’t they? If Jo had been planning how to share this news with Liam, which she hadn’t, this particular route wouldn’t have been favourite! It was something she had been going to get around to eventually, of course, but not just yet. She had been a bit hazy about when the right time might be. One thing she knew for certain: it wasn’t now! Liam had taken an involuntary step away from her and his gaze inevitably dropped to her waist, which was still almost as trim as it had been.
‘Good God,’ he said in a strangled voice, ‘you’re pregnant!’
‘He doesn’t know,’ Jessie’s youthful voice piped up. ‘I thought you two told each other everything.’
‘Not everything, it would seem,’ Liam said grimly.
‘Well, now you know,’ Jo said casually. He wouldn’t necessarily assume. . .
She saw immediately that this faint hope had been misplaced. Also, her casual tone hadn’t gone down well at all; the white line around his compressed lips was a dead give-away.
‘Last but not least.’ His voice sounded strangely unfamiliar to Jo.
‘Can I get you a drink, Bill? I know you’re off duty, but I was hoping you’d look in on the foal before dinner,’ Pat Rafferty asked, blissfully ignorant of the storm clouds gathering. ‘Girls, what can I get you?’
‘Gin and tonic,’ said the imperturbable Jessie.
‘Give her a Coke, Pat,’ Bill interjected.
‘Worth a try.’ Jessie was philosophical.
‘How could you, Jo?’ Liam’s raw, throbbing words ripped through the normality of casual chatter.
Suddenly the whole room was looking from her to Liam with startled incomprehension. ‘I don’t want to talk about it now.’ Please no scene.
He cruelly ignored the silent plea in her eyes. Why hadn’t she ever noticed how hard and yes—cruel his expression could be? There was something bordering on the austere in the hard-angled planes and contours of his face. She began to shiver and couldn’t stop—being intimidated by Liam of all people seemed a little crazy.
‘Come on, now, lad, I can see it’s a bit of a shock, but it’s not really any of our concern, is it?’ Pat said, placing a restraining hand on his son’s arm.
Liam’s eyes only left her face long enough to flicker briefly in his father’s direction. ‘I’d say my child is my concern, wouldn’t you?’
The instant’s silence was deafening and then suddenly everyone began talking at once.
‘I’m going to be a grandmother again,’ Maggie said faintly, sinking into a chair.
Jessie’s eyes were sparkling with interest. ‘I knew they shared everything but I didn’t know they shared that too!’ she whooped. ‘It gives a whole new meaning to “joined at the hip”.’
‘Jessica! That’s enough,’ her father barked.
‘Is this true, Liam?’ Pat asked slowly, shaking his head in disbelief.
‘Ask Jo,’ Liam replied, his ice-blue eyes daring her to contradict him.
‘I’ll never forgive you for this as long as I live!’ she declared passionately.
‘That might not be very long,’ he shot back equally grimly.
Maggie surged to her feet and clapped her hands together. ‘I’m so happy,’ she declared, tears pouring unchecked down her cheeks. ‘I always knew you two were meant for each other.’ She enfolded Jo in a warm embrace. ‘You two, at last. A grandmother, I can’t believe it.’
‘I’m having some difficulty adapting to it myself, Mother.’ He shot Jo a baleful look over Maggie’s shoulder.
Maggie released Jo only to clasp her son to her maternal bosom. ‘When are you getting married?’ she sniffed.
‘Married?’ Riding on the crest of his righteous anger, this question brought Liam down to earth with a bang, and Jo could hear the crash. The hypocritical pig, she fumed.
‘Yes, Liam,’ she asked innocently, ‘when are you going to make an honest woman of me?’
‘A wedding!’ Jessie squeaked, forgetting for a moment her teenage cool and general lack of interest. ‘Can I be bridesmaid?’
‘I think Jo and I need to discuss these things in private.’
‘Oh, yes, you’re very big on private now, aren’t you? Pity you didn’t think of that earlier. We don’t need to discuss anything, Liam Rafferty, because I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth!’ she concluded with enough passion to compensate for lack of originality. ‘This is my baby. I’m sorry, Aunt Maggie,’ she said as the older woman burst into tears again. ‘Now look what you’ve done!’ she shouted, turning on Liam. ‘It’s all your fault!’
‘Don’t think I’m not aware of that fact.’
Jo’s head came up with a snap. ‘I knew it!’ she said with grim satisfaction. ‘I just knew you’d say that. Well, let me tell you, Liam, the last thing I need at the moment is a speech about your shortcomings. I’m not interested in talking about liability or blame. I want this baby, not because it’s my responsibility, but because. . . because I love it!’ She clamped her hand over her trembling lips as her shaking voice became totally suspended by tears.
‘Oh, God, Jo.’ The anger died from Liam’s face leaving a conflict of emotions in its place. ‘Can we use the study, Dad?’
‘Of course, son. Just you go gently, or you’ll have me to answer to,’ Pat rumbled stiffly.
Anger flashed in his son’s eyes. ‘What do you think I am?’ Pat lifted one eloquent eyebrow and Liam grated his teeth. ‘I get the message. Will you talk to me, Jo?’
Her chin came up to a defiant angle and she glared at him through a sheen of unshed tears. ‘If I must,’ she muttered ungraciously.
Liam walked straight to the bureau in the study and reached for the half-empty bottle of his father’s favourite malt. ‘Want one?’ he asked. He paused, glass mid-air. ‘I forgot. . . ’ His eyes touched her middle and he visibly flinched.
‘Are you going to get drunk?’
‘It hadn’t occurred to me, but now you mention it. . . ’
‘Well, if you’re going to be flippant,’ she snapped defensively.
‘Flippant,’ he said, draining the shallow layer of amber liquid on the bottom of the glass, ‘is the last thing I feel. Why the hell didn’t you tell me, Jo? You wrote to me about everything else: work, the new wallpaper in your bathroom, your latest cookery class. I suppose it didn’t occur to you I might be interested to learn I’m about to be a father.’
She winced at the sarcasm in his voice. ‘You seem very sure it’s yours. Sure enough to announce it to our joint families,’ she reminded him bitterly.
There was a slash of colour across the slope of his sharply defined cheek-bones as he spoke. ‘I shouldn’t have done that,’ he acknowledged reluctantly, ‘but