Hold Me Fast (McCullough Mountain Book 7)

  “I’m not leaving you. I already told you I’d marry you if you asked.”

  “But you also said you wouldn’t.”

  She waved off his words. “That just means you ask again in five minutes once my temper settles. I’m a woman, Frank. I get pissed off easily, but I get over it.”

  He stared at her, his fingers brushing the hair away from her face. “Be my wife, Maureen O’Leahey. I want you in my home, my heart, my bed, and in the eyes of our children. I want you in my life—forever.”

  Her chest swelled, all obvious consequences shrinking into insubstantial nothingness. She smiled and whispered, “Yes. I’ll marry you.”

  He grinned and pressed his forehead to her chest. “You make me happy, Maureen. I promise I’ll be a good man to you always, love you even on your worst day so long as you promise the same to me.”

  “I promise.”

  He kissed her and laughed. “I suppose I’ll need to see your father. Perhaps now that you’re turning eighteen he’ll be a bit more reasonable.”

  She wasn’t a disobedient child, but enough was enough. “I’d like nothing more than to have my father walk me down the aisle of our parish church, but his blessing will not decide my fate, Frank. I want to be your wife and I will.”

  His grin was steady and sincere. “Remind me never to go against you, lass.”

  “We’ll be married. You’re bound to go against my wishes sooner or later. But you’ll learn.”

  He chuckled. “Will you spend the night with me?”

  She debated. Tomorrow was Colleen’s wedding. Her parents couldn’t very well be mad at her during such an important event. After that she’d be eighteen, her own person.

  “You don’t have to,” he said when she took too long to answer.

  “I’ll stay with you.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Frank.” Her future husband. It was surreal, but seemed so right, so natural.

  His lips closed over hers in a slow, drugging kiss. Her body awakened as he caressed her breasts and dragged his heavy fingertips over her body. His skin was so much rougher than hers, such a delicious contrast to her in size and texture.

  His arousal dug into her belly as things turned heated. Her fingers massaged the thick muscles of his shoulders as her legs curled over the backs of his thighs. Her panties were in the way as much as his pants, so she reached for the buckle of his belt but he stilled her.

  “No.”

  “I want to,” she argued.

  His breathing was harsh and she sensed his control slipping. “So do I, but we can wait. We can do it the right way, the way your church says.”

  “My church says we’re only to fornicate when trying to create life.”

  “Then we’re going to have a lot of children.”

  There was so much longing built up inside of her she was ready to burst. “I don’t want to wait.”

  “Just a bit longer. We’ll have a short engagement.”

  “How short?”

  He laughed. “Let me have a word with your father again and we’ll discuss it tomorrow. I haven’t even given you a ring yet, Maureen. Be patient.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “Wantin’ all those kids, you better learn,” he teased and bit her shoulder. “Let’s try to get some sleep.”

  “Naked sleep?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll keep my pants on. You can’t be trusted.”

  She sighed, but grinned as he pulled her body close to his and tucked them under the covers. For the first time in a very long time, she felt right as she shut her eyes, his arms holding her tight. She decided to rest a bit and then let him sleep so she could get him fed—like a good wife.

  Chapter Six

  “You may kiss the bride.”

  As Colleen and Paulie sealed their nuptials, Maureen watched Frank. He knew she was watching him, because he kept shooting her flirty winks and his lips would curl into a half-smirk. He looked very handsome in his tuxedo.

  The organ cried and the newlyweds led the way out of the church. Colleen made a beautiful bride. Maureen wasn’t so sure about the yellow dresses she’d insisted the bridesmaids wear, but Frank seemed to think she looked nice, so she supposed it wasn’t too bad. Between the stiff lace collar, the puffy sleeves, and the frothy skirt dyed lemon yellow, Maureen felt like a cupcake.

  Outside of the church the sun was beaming. They’d sure earned a nice day.

  “Maureen, come take a picture with your sister,” her mother called and she dutifully stood beside the bride.

  Guests gathered on the church steps, tossing rice and congratulating the couple. Maureen tried to imagine what such an event felt like as a bride, but she couldn’t seem to summon the vision. She would be next, Frank standing as her handsome husband, yet the image of them standing together on these steps eluded her.

  Trying to escape to a patch of shade, she slipped out of the crowd. By Paulie’s car, decorated with ribbon and tin cans, she found Frank and smiled. Though they’d been together all afternoon, she’d yet had a chance to speak to him.

  He tipped his head toward a nook in the stone of the church where a basement door showed and she followed him into the breezeway, her heart prancing at the chance to be close again. Stepping under the overhang, she grinned as he kissed her.

  Her heart pounded as his mouth tilted over hers and his hand slipped beneath the bun of her hair. Forcing herself to pull back, she pressed a palm on his heart and amazingly felt it beating behind his breast pocket. “We’re at church, Frank.”

  “God knew I was going to do that. We had an arrangement. I stopped obsessing over your beauty during the sermon in exchange for a kiss after the ceremony.”

  She arched a brow. “God agreed to that, did he?”

  “Aye.”

  “Maureen!” She jumped at the hiss of her mother’s voice. “Come out from there before Father Mark sees you—or worse, your father.”

  Elbowing Frank in the ribs, she quickly went to her mother. “Sorry, Mum.”

  “For the love of Mike, you can’t go neckin’ around church property. Tis’ a sacred place! Christ, we’ll be lucky if a bolt of lightning doesn’t strike you dead by day’s end,” she mumbled, bustling back to the wedding party.

  “We better get up there for pictures,” she told Frank and he nodded.

  The photographer was a snooty old bastard who acted as if he were being paid for his services in pudding rather than money. Every shot seemed an inconvenience and Maureen wasn’t sure why anyone would work as a wedding photographer if they hated weddings so much.

  “Just the men now,” he called.

  Thankfully, Colleen decided to take pictures at the church so they weren’t in the heat, but despite the fans and high windows, in their fancy clothing the air was sweltering.

  “Now the parents of the bride and groom.” Her mother and father walked to the front of the church where Paulie and his mother waited with his new bride.

  Paulie’s mother was reed thin with the sharpest cheekbones Maureen had ever seen. Her shrewd eyes watched the photographer as her fingers, adorned with large ruby rings, smoothed her black hair.

  The flash went off with a pop. “Now the groom and father of the bride.”

  “Oh no you don’t,” Paulie’s mother snapped, waving her bedazzled finger at the photographer. “I pay you good money to take good pictures and I will not have one of me, my beautiful son, and his new family when I was not even looking.” Her accent was a thick rolling rhythm of unbending Italian.

  “The bride has a long list to get to—”

  “And you will get every single photograph, but you will take it properly. Do it again, now.”

  Frank chuckled and whispered in her ear. “That’s why they call her Italian Mary. No one messes with her. She’ll put the Mallocchio on him.”

  Frowning over her shoulder, she asked, “The what?”

  “Evil eye. Italian superstit
ion.”

  “Surely Father Mark can only permit us in the church for a bit longer, ma’am,” the photographer said.

  “I’d do as she says, son,” Father Mark grumbled from the pew and Frank chuckled again. No wonder Colleen was going crazy dealing with her new mother-in-law.

  When the photographs were finally finished to Italian Mary’s specifications, they traveled to O’Malley’s, where the Cloony’s had set up a feast. Much of the guests were already drunk from having to wait so long, but the wedding party wasted no time catching up, Colleen leading everyone in a whiskey toast after their father gave an Irish blessing.

  There were far too many guests to sit comfortably anywhere, but that made it a little easier to sneak away. Frank caught her hand and pulled her to the back of the bar where they raced down the hall, laughing as they dodged Italian Mary coming out of the ladies room and quickly slipped into Liam’s office.

  “Are we allowed in here?”

  He shut the door and stared at her with dark, lust filled eyes. “Liam won’t mind.”

  She caught her breath as he approached, backing her against the door. “I keep wantin’ to kiss you, but we keep gettin’ interrupted.”

  She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. He was so intense sometimes. “Then kiss me now.”

  “Oh, I intend to Maureen O’Leahey.”

  His lips brushed hers as she lifted to her toes, reaching for him. His tongue slowly slipped into her mouth as his hands crept down her back and over her behind. She gasped into his mouth as he squeezed her there.

  His hands always knew exactly where to touch her, how to hold her in a way that made her feel delicate and completely feminine, but never threatened. He was a giant next to her, yet always so gentle.

  “I want to strip you down to your knickers and have my way with you, love.”

  “Okay.”

  He chuckled. “So hard to get.”

  “I want to be got.”

  He chuckled again and there was a sharp knock at the door.

  “Frank?” It was Paulie.

  “Go away.”

  “Colleen’s dad is looking for Maureen. You better get back to the party.”

  His forehead pressed to hers as he whispered, “I need to speak to your dad. I don’t like runnin’ around hidin’ like this.”

  She nodded. Everything would be a lot easier if they could be open about their relationship. “My mum doesn’t seem to mind you.”

  “That helps.”

  When they returned to the party everyone had bellies full of food and whiskey and they were dancing to the band Colleen hired. “Perhaps now’s a good time,” she suggested as she spotted her father sitting alone watching the others dance.

  Frank didn’t look thrilled at the task. “Aye.” Giving her hand a squeeze, he let her go and walked to her father.

  Maureen watched as Frank’s posture took on a non-threatening presence, his hands hanging humbly at his side as he begged for her father’s blessing. Her chest constricted as her father’s brow creased over his fiery red eyebrows. It was said she earned her stubbornness from her dad. There was no one more pigheaded than Shamus O’Leahey.

  When her father stood, nearly knocking his chair to the ground she gasped. Stout and bow legged, he still assumed a threatening presence. She knew Frank failed when her father jabbed a thick finger at his chest and waved him away, ignoring his presence.

  Frank’s head lowered as his shoulders drooped. Maureen’s teeth ground tight as she scowled at her stubborn dad. She marched toward her father’s table.

  “Maureen, don’t,” Frank said, catching her arm, but she shook him off.

  She marched right to her father’s side and demanded his attention. “Do I not deserve the same happiness you granted Colleen and Rosemarie?”

  Her dad turned to her slowly, hardly investing an ounce of concern. “Your sister’s wedding is not the time to discuss this, Maureen.”

  She leaned close and hissed, “Is it too much to give me your blessing? Frank is a good man. He’s honorable and he loves me—”

  “Honorable?” her father snapped. “Is he not the same man I forbid to see my underage daughter more than a month ago? What sort of honor is that, to go against my wishes? Now you’re believing you’re in love with him when you’re too young to know the meaning of the word.”

  His accusation infuriated her to near tears. Tightening her lips she stood up straight and whispered, “I do love him, Daddy. Tomorrow I’ll be an adult and your blessing won’t be needed. But it was wanted. I’m sorry you couldn’t understand that.” Her arms shook as her voice quavered. “I love you, but I love him too and you can’t get in the way of that.”

  “Maureen, tomorrow may be your birthday, but you still live under my roof. Now that is enough of this nonsense. I’ll have no more of this discussion. That man comes near you again and I swear to St. Peter I’ll aim my rifle at him. Now go see to your sister like you’re supposed to be doing.”

  A sob worked its way up her throat, but she forced it back. She spun away and weaved through the cluster of finely dressed tables and abandoned chairs. Frank called her name, but she ignored him.

  Colleen, dancing and laughing on the dance floor with her many guests, was in no need of her maid of honor. Her father had just wanted to make her feel bad.

  Choking back too many emotions, she kept her head down and lips tight until she found the exit. Pushing through the heavy doors with too much force, she fisted her hands on her hips and let the door slam behind her.

  Outside, the sky was dark and the air was muggy. The door opened and closed behind her as Frank slowly approached.

  “I’m sorry, love. He’s a stubborn man.”

  “He’s a jackass.”

  His hands rested on her shoulders as she stared into the night, fuming with impotent rage. “Give it time.”

  Turning, she faced him, her mind reeling with a need to escape and her muscles jumping with the urge to run. “Let’s run away, Frank.”

  “What?”

  “Take me somewhere, somewhere away from here.”

  “Maureen, I can’t—”

  She grabbed his wrist and turned his watch into the moonlight. Eleven twenty-three. “I’ll be an adult in less than an hour. It’ll take them that long to even realize I’m gone. Take me away, Frank. I want to go somewhere I’ve never been, do things I’ve never done, feel things I’ve never felt. And I want to have those things with you.”

  His eyes creased with concern as he silently debated.

  “Please, Frank.” Her vision blurred as she stared up at him. “I know what I want and I’m tired of people assumin’ I’m too naïve to choose what’s right for me. You’re right for me, more than anything else in this world. I love you. If you love me, take me away from here.”

  “Aye, Maureen. I’ll take you away.” He kissed her quickly and took her hand.

  The thick evening air chased up her skirts as they ran to his truck, her laughter ringing through the silent night. He started the truck and she grinned. Rolling the windows down, she scooted next to him on the seat as he put the truck into drive.

  “This damn gown is strangling me,” she announced, snapping the pearl buttons at the back of her neck with a tug and tearing away the lace gauze choking the life out of her bosom.

  “You are a fearless woman, Maureen.”

  She laughed and threw the lace collar out the window as they raced down Main Street. “I have plenty of fears, but so long as my courage outweighs them I’ll be fine. Go faster, Frank. Make it seem like we’re flying.”

  He squeezed her hand as she rested her cheek on his shoulder. His foot pressed into the gas pedal as they sped away, flying off where no one could reach them.

  “Am I makin’ a mistake, Rosemarie?”

  Her sister’s sigh carried through the phone. “Do you love him, Maureen? I mean really love him, so much so that when you hate him with everything you have that love will survive?”

  She could
n’t ever imagine hating Frank, but that was just naïve. “When he drives me crazy I still want him to kiss me. Is that the same?”

  “Not really, but maybe,” her sister said.

  Maureen looked down at the dress she’d borrowed from the innkeeper of the boathouse. “I wish you could be here, you and Colleen.”

  “See, dearie, your mind’s already made up.”

  She lightly ran her fingers over the fringe of a doily sitting under a message pad. “Do you think Dad will ever forgive me?”

  “You’re his daughter. He’ll have to.” Her sister hesitated. “Maureen, do you have any questions…about tonight?”

  She bit her lip as her cheeks heated. “Does it hurt?”

  “Only for a pinch. Get the first time over with, then ride him like a sailor on leave.”

  She laughed. “I’ve never sailed before.”

  “You’re a quick learner. I love you, Maureen. I think Frank’s a fine man and he’ll make you a fine husband.”

  “Thank you, Rosemarie. Truly.” The innkeeper peeked her head into the office and nodded. “I have to go now. Tell Colleen for me, when you see her.”

  “I will. Take care, dear. Call me tomorrow.”

  Setting the phone in the cradle, she looked to the innkeeper.

  “Your groom is waiting.”

  Her legs trembled as she slowly stood. She was getting married, promising her life to another person until the day she died. So help her God if he turned into a putz she’d have his balls.

  She paused to glance in the mirror. Her red hair was braided around her head, baby’s breath pinned in a crown. She hadn’t thought to bring makeup, so her face was bare, wearing only her natural blush.

  She’d cut a yellow strip of lace and used it to tie back some daisies she’d found growing on the edge of the property. They were in a small town about four hours from Center County surrounded by a large lake. Frank had discovered the town when purchasing a map from a gas station along the way. Apparently, the boathouse was a famous escape for lovers to visit and elope.

  “I’m ready,” she said, picking up her bouquet.

  Following the innkeeper to the den, Maureen steadied her breathing, but all bets were off the moment Frank turned from the mantle and set eyes on her.