An Irish Contract Read online

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  “Well, I guess we may as well make the best of a bad situation,” Darcy huffed as he flopped down onto the aging couch. A thousand dust-bunnies took flight and sparkled in the ray of sunlight that filtered through the heavy drapes.

  “Best of a bad …” Isla caught herself mid-sentence and changed track. “How is this such a terrible thing for you? Huh?”

  With the palm of his hand, Darcy brushed at the grey marks left on his neatly pressed trousers. A mental image sprang to her mind of Margrite in her teeny little tight skirt and high-heels slaving over the ironing board. No doubt with a perfect pout on her perfectly, symmetrical lips. Oh, how she had fantasized about punching her in that mouth over the years.

  “Well, clearly this isn’t how I intended to spend the next six months of my life,” Darcy mused, flopping his head back and staring at the ceiling, a wry smile playing on his lips. “However, as these things work out ... you’re here, I’m here.”

  Isla blew out an exasperated sigh. “You can’t possibly expect me to live here with you. In this house. For the next six months. You must be out of your mind.”

  “Maybe I am, Missus Finnegan.” The sneer that curled the corners of his lips made her nails dig into the palms of her hands.

  “Ms.!” she spat out as if it were a distasteful word that was stuck to the tip of her tongue.

  “That’s right … I forgot. Ms. Finnegan,” he let out a low chuckle. “I must say, I am honoured you kept my name.”

  “It’s my legal name, Darcy. Do you know how hard it is to change it back to my maiden name?” Isla argued. Knowing full well it was more than likely a defunct argument. She could have changed her name at any time. She hadn’t because she liked her name. She liked being a Finnegan, the way her name rolled off her tongue. It was far nicer than boring old Burke.

  “So you’ve not remarried then?” he asked, his gaze falling to her left hand.

  With her bare fingers now on display she clasped her hands together in an attempt to hide them. Why did he have to make her feel so insignificant? She was a strong, independent woman. Not being married showed her independence, didn’t it? She had long since moved on from Darcy, dealt with all the demons of her past. Hadn’t she?

  Lifting his own bare hand, he rested his elbow on the high arched armrest.

  “How’s Margrite?” The sarcasm oozed out of her as she elongated the woman’s name. Even after all this time, the image of the younger woman’s sneer haunted her.

  “I wouldn’t know,” Darcy replied with a nonchalant lift of his left shoulder.

  Isla raised an eyebrow in question. What did he mean he didn’t know?

  “I haven’t seen Margrite for, hmm,” he glanced at the floor to ceiling window, as if searching for the answer, before continuing. “It must be Christmas before last. Right before she moved to Spain.”

  “She moved to Spain?” Isla heard herself repeating his words before her brain even caught up with what she was saying.

  “Yeah, with her new husband, Enrique, I think his name was.”

  She had a new husband? Darcy and Margrite were divorced? Her eyes flitted involuntarily to his wedding finger, where he once sported a ridiculous wedding band encrusted with diamonds. She had always felt it made her own gift of a plain gold band to him on their wedding day seem inadequate. In fact, everything about his relationship with her had made Isla feel inadequate. After all, how could she possibly compete? Margrite seemed to have it all. The ridiculous supermodel looks, the youth.

  Isla knew she was not unattractive, but she was not a bimbo, which Darcy seemed to be attracted to. Her looks were more of the average garden variety. She was average height, average weight, not fat, but not thin either, she liked to think she had curves in the right places.

  “Oh … I’m, ahh, sorry,” she bit out, trying not to sound smug.

  “It’s okay. I always knew Margrite was never right for me anyway. I was a fool to ever leave you, Isla.”

  Had he actually said that? The forlorn look on his face was that of a small boy who had not made it into the school football team. She bit back a bitter laugh. Even after so many years, the pain of finding her husband wrapped in the arms of another woman cut her like a knife.

  “Sounds like you got what you deserved, Darcy.”

  “Ouch,” Darcy winced animatedly. “That’s harsh.”

  “Is it?” she asked, propping her head to one side, taking him in. Waiting to see what defence he could possibly throw back at her. He was still the same man she had fallen in love with all those years ago. The same man who had broken her heart.

  “You know I never meant to hurt you?” he started.

  Isla rolled her eyes, she had heard it all before. “Yes, I know. You had meant to come home that very day and tell me you wanted a divorce. If only I hadn’t turned up at your workplace wanting to surprise you with lunch, I would never have caught you.”

  “Isla,” Darcy pleaded. “I’m so sorry for everything that happened between us. I had hoped that with time, you would have found it within yourself to forgive me and moved on.”

  Isla scoffed. “I moved on, Darcy. I just can’t believe I’m here having to deal with all of this right now. As far as I am concerned, if you stay out of my way, I will stay out of yours.” She shook her head. This was an impossible predicament. If he thought for one minute she was going to pick up where they had left off, he had another thing coming.

  Chapter Two

  Almost stumbling over the floor rug that curled at the edges, she reminded herself she must pull that up and replace it with another. Reaching the front door, she wondered who could possibly be knocking at this hour. She reached for the watch at her wrist. The gold timepiece was the last gift Gran had given her before she left Ireland, her most treasured possession. Swinging the old heavy door toward herself, she caught sight of a grey tailored suit and knew immediately who was there to greet her.

  “Mister Fosbury,” she blurted looking up into those startling grey eyes that matched perfectly with his suit. She’d always been a sucker for a man with nice eyes.

  “Fraser, please.” He smiled down at her.

  She hadn’t noticed before how tall he was. He stood at least a foot taller than her five feet, five inches.

  “To what do we owe this visit, Mister Fos … er, Fraser?”

  Holding his hand in the air, a bunch of formal looking papers fluttered in the breeze. “Have you and Mister Finnegan had a chance to talk over your situation?”

  “Situation? Is that what we are calling it now?” she asked, attempting to stifle a laugh, before noticing Fraser’s obvious discomfort. “I don’t think we can see there are much other options available to us in our situation.”

  “I’m glad you see the importance of keeping the property,” Fraser nodded condescendingly. “Ms. O’Reilly would be pleased with your choice.”

  “You seem to have known my Gran well?” she arched an eyebrow in question. This was not the first time he had given this impression.

  “I worked with your grandmother on helping to construct the contract for her final wishes, Ms. Finnegan. She was a delightfully astute woman, as I am sure you are well aware.”

  Isla brought a hand to her lips in an attempt to cover her laugh. “Yes, and her last little stunt has well and truly proven that, I must say, Mister Fosbury.”

  “Fraser, please,” he responded lifting his top lip in a half smile.

  “Only if you call me Isla,” she retorted, a playful smile spreading across her own lips.

  “Isla,” Fraser repeated with a nod, his sly smile extending across his face. “Such a pretty name for a pretty lady.”

  Heat crept up her chest, how long had it been since any man had flirted with her? Other than the old guy who ran the local greengrocer, but she was sure old Alf flirted with all the ladies. Besides, he was old enough to be her grandfather- rest his soul.

  “So what, ahh … now we have agreed to stay ...” she stammered, gazing
past him to regain her composure.

  “What happens now?” Fraser asked her rhetorically.

  “Yes. Surely Mister Finnegan and I don’t actually both have to remain on the property at all times? How does this whole thing work?”

  “I’m afraid you will have to spend each night here at the property. You will need to show that you are living here, as a couple. This is a high-profile case, and we need to provide evidence should there be any litigation.”

  “Litigation?” she asked with almost a scoff, how ridiculous. “From who?”

  “Them,” Fraser jabbed his thumb over his shoulder.

  Moving to his left, Isla looked past him to see who or what he was going on about. A silver sedan sat at the edge of the property. Squinting her eyes, she could just make out the outline of a camera lens, pointing in her direction.

  “Is that…”

  “It sure is,” Fraser answered, not giving her a chance to finish her words.

  “But they can’t … this is private property. What do they intend to do? Stalk us? For the full six months?”

  “As I already said, Isla, there is an enormous bounty, if you will, at stake here. The developers want this property, and they are prepared to pay their investigators to watch you until such times as you make the wrong move.

  If you and Mr. Finnegan are determined to keep the property, I suggest you do everything within your power not to give them any reason to believe you are not upholding Molly Mae’s wishes. They are waiting eagerly by.”

  “But if we don’t, the money goes to charity. You said so yourself.”

  “The proceeds go to charity. The developers want this land. The charities don’t need the property. If you and Mister Finnegan forfeit, the property will be sold to the highest bidder and the proceeds distributed.”

  “And the house knocked down?” she asked in confirmation, knowing full well that was the developers’ intention.

  Fraser’s eyes raised to the eaves as he scanned the old building. “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “Gran would turn in her grave,” Isla sighed, picturing in her mind, not for the first time since her return home, her dear old feisty grandmother. She knew she would be forever tormented by the fact she had not returned home earlier to spend Gran’s dying days with her.

  “With all due respect, I would be more concerned that she would return to haunt us all.”

  A sharp laugh sprung from her chest as she took in Fraser’s serious look. “You really did get to know my Gran, didn’t you?”

  “Well enough,” Fraser nodded, joining in her laughter. “Well enough.”

  “Good morning,” came a voice from behind.

  As Fraser and Darcy exchanged morning pleasantries, Isla allowed her mind to wander. The sound of Darcy’s sleepy voice took her back as the years unfolded in her memory. He sounded distinctly husky when thick with sleep, and if she were honest with herself, she had missed it. However, now was not the time to get sentimental. She had a house to save.

  “Is that okay with you, Isla?” Fraser asked dragging her back to the present.

  “Um …” Her gaze shot between the two men, unsure of what he had said; she had completely zoned out. She needed to get a grip. “Yeah, sure,” she nodded, hoping it was appropriate.

  “Good, I’ll be back tonight then.” Fraser extended his hand and gripped hers in a weak handshake. His hands were cold, and the frostiness sent a chill up her spine.

  As she watched him trail his way back to his vehicle, she felt Darcy’s arm fall to rest on her shoulder. Shrugging away, she scowled. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “You heard the man,” he shrugged, confusion marring his features.

  “Yeah, I heard him say he needs to check up on us each day.”

  “Isla, you agreed ...”

  A spike of terror gripped her. What had she agreed to? She had only zoned out for a moment. Hadn’t she?

  “To?” she fished.

  “Are you still doing that thing?” Darcy chided.

  “No … I didn’t do a thing. What thing are you talking about?” Heat crept into her cheeks as she spoke. She knew Darcy knew. When they were young, he often teased her about tuning out when people were talking. It wasn’t that she meant to be rude, just sometimes, she would go off into her own little space in her head. Embarrassingly, it had been more often than not around Darcy; just listening to his voice seemed to carry her away. She had never told him that, and she wasn’t about to admit it now, either.

  “You know, the thing,” Darcy laughed, as he ushered her back into the house and closed the door behind them.

  “Darcy Finnegan, I have no idea what you are going on about,” she scolded defensively in an attempt to gain back the power she had lost in that brief moment.

  “Well, if you didn’t do that thing, you would know that Fraser just told us to put on a show for our friendly little investigator out there.” He nodded back toward the door. “He said we should gather as much of our own evidence as possible to make it appear we are serious about staying in this house together.”

  “That’s ludicrous,” she snapped, thinking back to what Fraser had said about the developers being desperate to get their grubby paws on the O’Reilly estate.

  “Is it?” Darcy shrugged. Slinging an arm around her waist, he drew her to him. “Besides, it could be fun. Just like old times. Missus Finnegan.”

  Placing both hands on his chest, she forced him back.

  “Is this your doing, Darcy? Did you put Fraser up to this? Did you put Gran up to this? Oh, my God. You did, didn’t you?” she balked.

  Darcy chuckled smugly. “I wish I’d thought of it. Pretty clever really, don’t you think?”

  “Clever?” Her voice raised an octave. “How is any of this, clever?” She waved a hand in front of herself as her eyes scanned the room. What was Darcy even thinking?

  “You know as well as I do, Isla. Molly Mae wanted to see us back together. Maybe this was all part of her cunning plan.”

  “Molly Mae,” she emphasised her gran’s name in the same tone Darcy had used, “was a crazy old lady, with crazy ideas. I am not getting back with you, Darcy. I am here for the duration to save this house. That’s it. Period.”

  “Then what?” The corner of his mouth twitched, and she knew he was trying not to smile.

  “Then, we go our separate ways,” she stated firmly.

  “But the house? The estate? I mean, let’s face it, we both want our share, right?”

  Fury rose in her chest, and she clenched her hands into fists. Who did this man even think he was? “This property. This estate,” she announced firmly. “Is rightfully mine, Darcy Finnegan. Not yours.”

  “So, what? Are you going to contest the will?”

  “I can’t, can I? Otherwise, they get the lot.” No matter what, she would not give in to greedy, money hungry developers.

  “So what do you expect then, Isla? Huh? That I will stay here with you for six months, then walk away? Give you everything? My share of the O’Reilly estate?”

  “You could have had your share if you had kept your dick in your pants,” she retorted, wishing she could retract her words the second they fell from her lips.

  “Oh, so we’re going to resort to that again, are we?” Darcy huffed out, flopping his head back and staring at the ceiling.

  Even after all these years, it still hurt her. The memories haunted her. The love she had lost, their marriage that Darcy had thrown away. She knew Molly Mae had loved Darcy and she shouldn’t be at all surprised by her trying to force them back together. She had loved Darcy once too. With all her heart, but he had destroyed that along with any chance she might ever find true love again.

  When she left Ireland and followed her parents to Australia, she vowed never to allow another man to break down her defences. She had dated a few men, even had a few short-term relationships, but they always ended as soon as she felt they were getting too close. One time, it had been on the way to meet her bo
yfriend's parents. They had been dating for six months, and he had insisted. She thought it would be okay, but halfway to the restaurant, she panicked, not only cancelling her lunch date but ending their relationship. Perhaps she was just destined to spend the rest of her life alone.

  Gathering her thoughts, she headed for the back door, leaving Darcy alone with his own thoughts. A small part of her hoped he felt just as much pain as she had, but knowing how self-absorbed he was she knew that was near to impossible.

  “I guess we will have to discuss how we are going to divvy everything up when the time comes. For now, let’s just get through the next six months,” Isla forced out. She knew she couldn’t expect Darcy to hand over his share of the property. Maybe she could buy his half out. They would need to address that at a later date. She would seek legal advice.

  “Agreed,” Darcy smiled.

  This was going to be a long six months.

  Chapter Three

  Settling into life with Darcy was easier than Isla had expected. As the weeks passed, they mostly managed to keep out of each other’s way. Most mornings Darcy was up and off to work before she even woke. By night, she would eat her evening meal and retire to her old bedroom to read.

  Molly Mae had a huge collection of historical romance novels. Isla had been in awe of her gran’s library for as long as she could remember. As a child, she imagined having a library just like Gran’s when she grew up. Never in a million years did she expect she would one day inherit Molly’s library.

  Blowing the dust off yet another old title, she read aloud, “The Duke’s Princess.” She laughed to herself, the titles were so corny. A tear slipped down her cheek as an image of Gran popped into her mind, reclining in her favourite chair, her reading glasses perched high on the bridge of her nose. The old metal rims were scratched and worn, but Gran refused to trade those glasses in. She wondered what happened to Gran’s old glasses.

  Glancing around the room, she saw two walls consisted of ceiling-high bookcases, while only the last two shelves lay bare. The small step-ladder Gran used never allowed her to reach those top two shelves. Years ago her father had offered to build her another bookcase so she wouldn’t have to climb the ladder anymore.