The photographs that hit the papers and online media this morning almost crippled him. He’d felt rage, despair, then denial. The way they looked at one another…Christ...there was a real possibility he’d screwed up any chance he’d once had of making Rowan his.
Did Rowan love William? It looked like she did.
She had agreed to meet Hugh. She’d agreed to hear him out. Rowan would walk through his door any minute and everyspeech he’d been practicing evaporated from memory. He was edgy and angry, and very, very panicked.
All of Rowan’s favorite fruit and vegetables had been delivered on trays an hour ago. Chilled water and ice. Lemon wedges. Low ball glasses and whiskey. All her favorite things.
He’d golfed with a few friends and had lunch at the club today to waste several hours. He spent those hours surreptitiously staring at the picture Rowan had sent him. Naked and in the shower. He hadn’t lied to Rowan. He’d been hard for hours. It had taken every ounce of his willpower to not let himself into his mother’s place and into Rowan’s bed.
He could barely make out her form, but he knew her body. Every naked inch and his memory was faultless. That bit of nipple he could make out had his mouth watering. He could see her eyes. They appeared to be staring right at him. Rowan had been playing with fire. He had instigated it with his initial text. He desperately wanted to know what she had nestled away in her side table.
Yesterday he’d had his mouth on her ass cheek. That had been the first bit of her skin that Hugh had ever tasted. He wanted more.
On the golf green, he was either adjusting his dick after looking at the shower pic or fuming over the pictures of William and Rowan. Had she sent William a naked picture too? No. Hugh wouldn’t believe she’d do that. Her body belonged to Hugh. Or it used to.
When she’d been pissed at Hugh for coming into her bedroom, she’d admitted that William had had his hands on her body. Hugh didn’t consider himself a violent man, but he’d had visions of beating the man to within an inch of death. He’d settled for attempting to ruin his reputation or his business. It was not nearly as satisfying, but he wouldn’t end up arrested.
His anger was worse because he and William were friendly. He wasn’t a stranger. Will was Diana Gaines nephew, so Hugh had been around the Stanton family several times over the years. Hugh and Helen had attended William’s wedding thirty years ago.
That thought made Hugh pause. Hopefully the investigators would find out why Will and Katy got a divorce. Maybe he’d been a shit husband. Rowan wouldn’t like that, he thought, grinning.
Hugh stopped his pacing when he heard his phone ringing. He’d left it by the whiskey bar and quickly moved there. He prayed it wasn’t Rowan cancelling. He snatched the phone from the counter and saw that Bran was calling. Panic seared his chest. It was almost one in the morning in Dublin.
“Bran. What is it?” Hugh barely leashed his anxiety.
“Everything is fine, Dad. Seriously, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Then why in the fuck are you calling me at one o’clock in the morning? Are Raven and Daniel okay?” Hugh was taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart.
“Fine, fine. No worries. My son has decided sleeping at night just isn’t his thing. For four nights,” Bran chuckled softly. Probably hoping Daniel would change his mind about passing out. “Rave and I are taking turns.”
Bran sounded exhausted. Parenthood…the great sleep depriver. Hugh’s heart ached that he wasn’t there to help too. “You pulled that shit with me. Did I never tell you?”
“No, you didn’t, and I can only apologize for torturing you.”
“Mom sorted me out. I called her late one night, waking her and Dad, which she was pissed about until I told her you refused to sleep at night like a normal person, and I was losing my shit.” The doorbell rang. Oh, God. Rowan.
Hugh walked over and opened the door. Rowan was in thin cotton shorts, a matching black t-shirt, and flip flops. Her hairwas up in a bun, soft tendrils coming loose. Thank God. Casual. He waved her in and mouthed Bran, pointing at the phone. Her immediate concern soothed his earlier reaction. Anyone would have panicked. Christ, it was the middle of the damn night in Dublin. He mouthed, “It’s fine.”
“She told me to stop whining like a child.” Hugh continued. “She also told me how Dad got me to sleep.”
“Oh, Jesus. Tell me now. Please.” Bran was desperate.
Rowan sat at the bar smiling. She loved their family as he did. He fixed her an ice water and a double of Slane, while he poured himself Glenmorangie 18. She loved Glen 18. Hugh had considered she might want to taste it on his tongue.
“Turn your air down so it’s colder than the normal temperature. Then turn the television on, or music, but keep it low. Take your shirt off and lay on the couch. Strip Daniel to his diaper and lay him on your chest. Don’t cover him up.”
“Okay, I’m doing it all now. Give me a second.”
Hugh could hear Bran murmuring to Daniel and moving about, following the instructions. Rowan took a sip of her whiskey and raised her brows in question.
“Daniel isn’t sleeping at night,” Hugh whispered. “Bran is up with him this time.” Rowan nodded in understanding.
“Okay, I’m back. Who were you talking to?”
“None of your fucking bus—” Rowan was staring at Hugh, and he would swear that her look was a dare to tell the truth. Shit, he was fucking up already.
“Rowan.”
