A Mother's Love by Ruth Wind Read Free Book Online Page B

female, who came on Thursdays to hear old ballads and get misty-eyed over Celtic fiddle. Not a few women—young and not so young—were there to admire the singer, Wyn, with his long limbs and long blond hair. He wore breeches and a poet’s shirt with flowing sleeves, the neck left open to show his nearly hairless chest. Dylan had no desire to wear a costume, but he admitted it didn’t hurt the band to have Wyn so attired.
    So far, there was no sign of Kyra. As he warmed up he kept an eye out for her. Maybe she’d fallen asleep, he told himself. Maybe she was exhausted from the challenging day.
    Or maybe she was too shy to come in her by herself. Thethought had not occurred to him. With swift movements, he put his fiddle aside. “I’ll be right back,” he said to Wyn and grabbed his coat from the rack, then headed out into the wet night. The B and B was only a little walk down the lane, but he was quite wet by the time he got there. The light was on in Kyra’s room, he noticed as he went inside.
    â€œHello, Caroline,” he said to the small, dark woman who came out of the kitchen. “Mind if I nip upstairs to speak with your guest?”
    Caroline waved a hand. “Go ahead. Aren’t you supposed to be on stage by now?”
    â€œIn a minute.” He took the stairs two at a time, winding upward and upward through the dark to the door. He rapped firmly. “Kyra! It’s Dylan.”
    There wasn’t a sound at all for a moment, and he was about to knock again, when she pulled open the door. She had on some loose cotton pants and a peasant blouse with a jumper over it. “Dylan, is something wrong?”
    â€œNo. But you can’t stay in here tonight. You’ve got to come down to the pub to hear some Welsh singing.”
    â€œI’m just tired,” she said, waving a hand. “And I’m not dressed.”
    The light came from behind her, making a halo of her curls. He saw her eyes flicker to his mouth, touch his throat, fly away. “Take off that terrible jumper and put on some jeans and you’ll be fine.”
    She crossed her arms, moving backward. “No, thank you.”
    Dylan inclined his head. “I’m not taking no for an answer.”
    A ghost of a smile edged her lips. Shock. “You can’t just say that!”
    â€œI just did.” He crossed his arms. “They’re waiting for me, you know.”
    â€œThen go.”
    He raised his chin. “Are you afraid of me, now, little Kyra?”
    â€œNo. How silly.”
    Taking one step closer, he grinned. “I think you are. I think you’re wondering if I’m going to kiss you again if you come out tonight.”
    She rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re actually saying these words, like some guy in a movie.”
    â€œLife is better than the movies,” he said and chuckled, moving closer. “I won’t kiss you if you don’t want me to.”
    â€œI don’t want you to.”
    â€œAll right. Get dressed.”
    â€œYou’re bossy!”
    â€œOldest child, remember?” he said with a wink and headed out. “I’ll be waiting downstairs.”
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    T HERE WAS NO WAY TO get out of it. Kyra had the feeling that if she didn’t get downstairs in a reasonable amount of time, Dylan would come right back up the stairs and carry her down himself. But her hands shook slightly as she tried to put on a little lipstick, and she nearly tripped over her jeans and killed herself as she tried to change clothes.
    Chill, she told herself. It was Africa’s voice in her head, which was a very good thing. They had been so good for each other for so long Kyra almost didn’t know how to function without her. Kyra was the brains, the logical one. Africa had been the social manager.
    Africa wasn’t here, and Kyra wasn’t going to think about that now. Later, when she got the baby home, got