Chapter 8: Budding Feelings

He didn’t answer. He simply stared at her, his gaze dark and unreadable.

Maeve grew nervous under his scrutiny and laughed awkwardly. “I’m acting strange, aren’t I? Being so insistent. I don’t mean anything by it, I just...”

“You pity me,” he said, cutting her off.

It was a statement, not a question.

Her first instinct was to deny it. Pity seemed an inadequate word for what she felt, especially when Kieran, ill or not, was hardly someone she considered weak.

Even so, she hesitated. Among the tangled feelings in her heart, could she really be sure there was no pity?

She sighed, met his gaze, and answered honestly.

“I don’t know. I can’t tell what I’m feeling right now, whether it’s pity, sympathy, or something more. But I do know I want to do this for you. Or rather, with you.”

Kieran found her increasingly difficult to understand.

For a moment, he had wondered whether her insistence on having his child was an attempt to secure a claim to the Archer inheritance. Yet if that were her only motive, she could have pursued the same goal with another man.

As she’d pointed out earlier, even if the child had no blood connection to the Archers, she could still find ways to tilt things in her favor with the considerable power she’d hold as his successor.

She had even offered to relinquish the child’s inheritance rights, though whether she would honor that promise was something he might never live to see.

But if it wasn’t about the inheritance, what was it?

A possibility occurred to him, but he dismissed it almost immediately.

He might have no experience with love, but he wasn’t completely oblivious. Throughout their conversation, he had seen nervousness, respect, and admiration in her eyes.

Surely, if there were something more, he would have noticed.

The only difference was a certain softness in her gaze, one that hadn’t been there when they’d first entered the room.

It could almost give someone the wrong idea...

A moment later, he laughed at himself. That was hardly something a dying man should concern himself with.

“Maeve,” he said at last. “Do you understand what you’re asking? Even with screening, there are no guarantees. The process could fail. The child could still inherit the defect. And even if everything goes well, I may not live long enough to see it born.”

“I know.”

“Then you’ll be raising the child alone.”

“I wouldn’t be alone,” she said without hesitation. “I’d have the Archers. I’d have the position you’re offering me. And I’d have a piece of you.”

The last words slipped out before she could stop them.

Immediately, her ears turned pink, and she looked away, but she didn’t take them back.

Kieran said nothing.

Beneath the desk, his fingers curled into his palm, his nails pressing into the flesh as he struggled to steady himself.

A piece of him.

For years, he had made peace with the thought that nothing of him would remain after his death beyond a name, a portrait in the company’s lobby, and a tombstone in the family cemetery. He had convinced himself that leaving no heir behind was the cleaner choice, the only way to ensure he wouldn’t condemn his descendants to the same fate of dying young.

He had never imagined someone would come along at this point in his life and challenge that decision.

“This isn’t a decision I can make tonight,” he said finally.

Maeve’s shoulders relaxed a little. It wasn’t a yes, but at least it wasn’t a refusal.

“Then I’ll make you a deal.” She straightened, returning to a more practical tone. “I’ll accept your proposal and the position. In return, we’ll consult a specialist and find out whether IVF is a viable option. If it isn’t, I’ll withdraw my request and honor your conditions as they stand.”

It was a fair offer.

Better than fair, in fact.

All it would cost him was a few consultations, and in return, he would have her exactly where he wanted her.

“I’ll give you an answer tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Maeve agreed readily, rising from her seat. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll get going.”

Kieran nodded.

Just as she reached the door, he stopped her.

“Before anything is finalized, this stays between the two of us.”

She arched a brow. “As if I’d tell anyone.”

Then she was gone.

Left alone in the study, Kieran lowered his head and considered what had just happened.

He could have refused outright and shut down her suggestion. Instead, he had found himself reluctant to do so, and that reluctance had little to do with whether she became his successor.

He thought of her answer when he had accused her of pity. That she hadn’t been sure what she was feeling.

Neither, it seemed, was he.

***

Maeve walked back along the covered walkway, the night air cool against her flushed cheeks.

I would have a piece of you.

She winced at the memory, her toes curling in embarrassment. Of all the things she could have said, how had that been the one to slip out?

Still, Kieran hadn’t reacted badly. Surely that meant he wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea.

Clinging to that thought, she smiled to herself and stepped into the main house.

But as she approached her room and spotted Curtis waiting outside it, her smile vanished.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, making no effort to hide her distaste.

His expression was no friendlier.

“What were you doing in the east wing for so long?”

The entitlement in his tone irritated her to no end.

“None of your damn business,” she snapped.

Then, she tried to step around him and enter her room, but he blocked her way.

“Maeve.” His expression darkened. “You don’t really plan to accept my uncle’s proposal and marry him for real, do you?”

She stepped back, putting some distance between them, and crossed her arms as she regarded him with disdain.

“I plan to do exactly that. What can you do about it?” she asked. “Or is it that only you get to seek ‘greener pastures,’ and I don’t?”

Curtis’s jaw tightened.

“Don’t be absurd!” His voice rose. “You stopped being my fiancée just hours ago, and you already can’t wait to marry another man. My uncle, no less. Have you no shame, Maeve?”