“Your actions spoke pretty well for you.” I smiled. “Watching you wolf that down reminded me of my little brothers at home.”
Daniel drained his glass. “Drink up,” he said and refilled his own. “There’s plenty more in the bottle.”
“I don’t think so, thank you.” I was well aware of the effect that wine had on me. “I have to get home. I don’t want to be seen staggering up Patchin Place.”
I stood up and started to clear away the dishes. Daniel grabbed my arm as I reached for his plate. “Don’t go,” he said.
“I have to go. It’s getting late. Chelsea is fairly safe, but . . .”
“Don’t go,” he said again. “Stay here with me. I’ve missed you, Molly. How long has it been since you and I shared more than polite conversation together?”
“Not always so polite,” I reminded him. “Last time we met you were yelling at me, I seem to remember.”
“Only because I care about you,” he said. “You want me to care about you, don’t you?”
“Yes, but . . .”
His other hand encircled my waist and he pulled me down to his lap. “I want you, Molly,” he whispered. “It’s been so long.”
God, if the truth were known, I wanted him too. He was nuzzling at my neck in a way that was disconcerting and I felt myself weakening.
“Oh, no,” I said, attempting to break free of his grip. “You’re not getting me into that bedroom unless and until we’re married.”
“Then let’s get married right away. We’ll find a priest in the morning. Any kind of pastor will do.”
“And you want me to come and live here?”
“I could move into Patchin Place. There’s room enough for two there.”
“I haven’t agreed to marry you yet, Daniel Sullivan,” I said, “and if and when we do marry, I want it done right. My mother settled for less than perfect. She slaved away for four ungrateful males and then she died of exhaustion. What kind of living is that?”
“I’d make everything just right for you,” he whispered, gazing into my eyes with that unnerving look. “I promise. Everything’s going to be perfect.”
“I want it done right, Daniel. A proper proposal, a proper wedding with all the trimmings, and a proper place to live. And we still have some things that need sorting out first.”
“We’ll sort them out as we go. I need a wife, Molly.”
“So that’s it, is it?” This time I did break free and stood up. “You want to make sure that someone is around to cook your dinner every evening, and keep your bed warm too.”
“I need you,” he said simply. “I’ve been on my own long enough. I’ve been through the bleakest time of my life. I’ve been in prison. I’ve been despised and wrongly accused and I’ve lost my father, who was my guiding light. Enough bad things have happened to me. I want something to look forward to.”
“You’ve got your job back,” I said. “That’s a start.”
“I want to get married. Start a family. A home of my own.”
He must have noticed my sudden reaction. “What is it?” He took my hand. “You don’t want these things?”
This would have been the perfect moment to tell him the truth. How hard would it be to say, “Daniel, there’s something you should know. When you were in jail, I found I was in the family way.” I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t make the words come out. The whole horror of that situation came flooding back to me. I had lost the baby when I had to jump off a dock and swim for my life.
“Of course I do,” I managed to say. “At the right time. I just don’t want to be rushed into anything.”
He laughed. “I won’t rush you, I promise. I’m going to make it all right for us.” He stood up and pulled me to him. Then he took my face in his hands and he was kissing me with unleashed passion. I felt my own passion mounting. I could feel the warmth of his body pressing hard against mine. I wanted him desperately. How easy would it be to stay with him tonight, and if I did find myself in the family way again, then we’d get married in a hurry. God knows plenty of couples had done this before us.
But there was just that germ of hesitation. Daniel’s face as he had virtually ordered me to his automobile the other day came into my head and I pushed away from him. “Daniel, I have to get home,” I whispered. “What would Mrs. O’Shea think?”
“She’s got seven children. She’d have a pretty good idea,” he said with a chuckle. “Very well. I suppose you’re right. You should go.” He slapped my behind. “Go on then, before I weaken and drag you off over my shoulder.”
I went for my cape and gathered my belongings.
“Molly, I have a day off tomorrow,” he said, following me around like a small child. “I thought of going out to see my mother. Would you like to come?”
“I can’t,” I said. “I’ve promised to visit a client in the afternoon.”
“You blame me for having no time off work, and you’re just as bad. Clients on a Sunday?”
“She works all week.”
“Your client is a lady? That’s interesting.”
“Very interesting,” I said.