While Molly was bracing herself for the worst, resolving not to cry, Ambrose and Barrett were staring at each other from across the dining room table.
Sheamus sat in between the two of them, wondering how in the hell he'd gotten into the position of peacekeeper today.
"All right," he started slowly, recognizing that he was in unfamiliar territory. "Lay it out. What, exactly, is causing the strife between you two?"
"You need to stay out of my house, and stay away from Molly," Barrett said immediately.
Ambrose grinned. "She doesn't want me to stay away from her. Have you not realized this yet?"
"I don't care what she wants. This is my house, and she will abide by my rules."
He leaned forward and studied the older man. "Is there a particular reason you're so attached to having her here? You didn't want her at first. Why has that changed?"
Barrett's mouth moved soundlessly for a few moments. "I don't see what that has to do with our current situation."
"It has everything to do with our current situation." Ambrose paused. "Have you been taking advantage of her?"
Barrett blinked, visibly stunned. "Are you out of your mind?" He roared. "If anyone has been taking advantage of her, it's you. She and I discussed you at length, Mr. Ambrose. And while I'm not entirely sure what your motivations are, I know that they're not benign."
Ambrose leaned back, lacing his fingers over his chest. "Molly and I have been intimate in some ways," he admitted. "She's enjoyed every moment." The lie slid from his lips easily. "My intentions are benign – I want to marry the girl. I do believe if I were to ask, she would agree."
"I believe you're wrong," Barrett growled, his expression dark.
Sheamus watched this exchange with profound surprise. He'd expected that the situation with Molly was merely a front for a deeper issue, and that if they had any quarrel it would have been over Abigail. Barrett had never truly forgiven either of them for their affair. He realized that this new situation was probably bringing old resentments to the surface, which only intensified their anger towards one another. He knew, at that moment, that the only way to solve this issue would be to put time and space between the two of them.
It had worked once. He hoped it might work again.
"Listen, there's no way we can work this out today," he interrupted just as each of them was primed to start yelling. "You both need some time to figure out what you want, and figure out if the struggle is worth it."
"Oh it's worth it," Ambrose muttered.
Sheamus ignored him and turned to Wade. "Talk to Molly. Get to the bottom of this." He turned back to Ambrose. "You're coming with me to Ireland for two weeks. Friend of mine is starting a new ring and needs some talent to get things rolling. You'll be compensated well. Go home and pack a bag; I will be there to retrieve you in half an hour."
Wade glanced at Sheamus, surprised. "You're leaving?"
The Irishman nodded. "It's what I came to tell you this morning, before all this."
"You will be coming back?" Wade asked slowly, selfishly thinking that this was simply just what he needed this morning.
"Yes. I'll return with Mr. Ambrose, and we'll all go about our usual business." 'I hope,' Sheamus added mentally, although he could sense that the disaster created by this situation would only be delayed, not halted entirely.
He feared that there would still, in the end, be Hell to pay.
Barrett refused to let Ambrose say goodbye to Molly, stating firmly that he would inform her of his whereabouts.
He didn't trust the man for a minute, but he knew better than to attempt to pick a fight. He was still in rough shape from the previous night, and he certainly wasn't about to fight two men for the privilege of saying a temporary goodbye.
He had determined already that it would be temporary, no matter what Mr. Barrett's thoughts on the matter might be.
He angrily threw clothing into his suitcase, his mind working furiously as to how he could recover the ground lost from this new development. He gave up, slamming the lid shut, when he realized that he was simply far too angry to be rational.
"Don't think you've won, Wade," he snarled to himself. "Don't you dare think that for one moment."
Barely sparing a glance around him, he hurtled down the stairs and into the street to await the beginning of his exile.
A mere four blocks away, Wade Barrett paced in his study.
Molly should be here by now.
Impatient to speak with her, he threw open the door and made his way to her room. He didn't bother to knock, merely shoving open her door.
He stopped short when he saw her sitting on the bed, her face buried in her hands and her shoulders shaking.
Hell.
The anger that had been building up in him deflated immediately, and he went to sit beside her. She didn't move until he'd wrapped his arms around her shoulders, flinging her arms around his neck and crying into his chest.
"I'm so sorry," she managed to say through her sobs.
He rolled his eyes, irritated with himself for being so spiteful earlier. "You know that I couldn't have you leave, right?" He asked, lightly rubbing her back. "You know that I want you here."
She seemed to calm after he said that. Eventually, all the noise in the room died down to soft, infrequent sniffles.
"I'm sorry about what I said earlier," he finally spoke when he was unable to bear the silence any longer.
"I deserved to hear that," she replied, her voice sounding hollow. "You told me to stay away from Mr. Ambrose. I didn't listen."
He gently pulled her away from him to look into her eyes. "Why didn't you listen?"
Her lips started quivering and she looked away briefly. "Do you care for him?" He pressed.
"No," she finally said in a low voice. "No, I don't care for him. I just…" she bit her lip. "I like the things he does to me."
His heart sped up before dropping in his chest. She must have noticed some small change in his expression.
"Does that make me a terrible person?"
"No," he replied immediately. "It makes you a human being." He sighed heavily and took one of her hands in his. "There's no shame in enjoying things that are supposed to be pleasurable. I just really wish that you wouldn't enjoy them with him."
She managed a small laugh. "So do I." She debated on saying the next words that came out of her mouth. "The man I really want is unfortunately unavailable."
He closed his eyes, a pained expression falling over his face. "He is," he agreed. "He wishes that he wasn't."
She nodded, fresh tears coming to her eyes. "I know. But, regardless, these are the circumstances we find ourselves in. I need to do my best to continue on with my life."
"Does continuing with your life mean eventually marrying Mr. Ambrose?" He asked bluntly.
She looked away. That was all the answer he needed, and just the one he'd feared.
Unable to tolerate this for a moment longer, he abruptly stood and left the room.
Wade thought about the situation he found himself in for a very long time that day.
He and Molly maintained separate spaces in the house, each of them staying out of the other's path.
Finally, when she came to call him to dinner, he settled on his course of action.
"Wait," he said as she turned to leave. "I want to talk to you."
Wary but resigned, she turned back and tentatively stepped towards him. "What would you care to discuss?"
He closed the distance left between them and put his hands on her shoulders. Staring into her eyes for a moment, he bent and pressed his lips to hers.
After a moment of this friendly sort of kiss, he parted her lips with his tongue and felt a wave of unbridled desire sweep through him when she began to kiss him back.
His hands wove through her hair and he pulled her closer to him for a brief moment before she moved away.
"What are you doing?" She asked tiredly.
He reached out for her again, crushing his lips against hers. This time he allowed his hands to wander over her – down her sides and then back up to lightly run over her breasts. Her nipples hardened beneath his fingers and he ran his thumbs over them in a circular motion several times, barely containing a smile when she began to return his kiss with greater intensity.
She wrenched away from him again, her eyes full of reluctance. "Wade…." She said gently, her tone full of admonitions.
"All right," he sighed, taking her hand and leading her to the sofa. They sat in silence for a few moments before he worked out how to begin.
"I hope that it's obvious how much I care for you," he started quietly. "I know that it's totally improper and I've tried to talk myself out of my feelings since the first night you arrived. I'm married, no matter how unhappily – and I refuse to ask you to compromise yourself by being my mistress. But what if I wasn't married?"
She held her breath for a moment. He couldn't be saying what she thought he was saying. "What do you mean?"
He took a deep breath. "My wife has had several affairs since we were wed – Mr. Ambrose is counted among those men – and now she's run off. I have ample grounds for divorce."
The words hung between them for several moments. "Would you actually go through with it?"
"Yes," he said immediately. "I love you too much to simply stand by while another man takes care of your needs, needs that I have dreamed about fulfilling every night since you came here. I love you too much to let you walk away, to let you walk into the arms of a man who will only hurt you in the end when I could have stopped being such a blind idiot and improved both of our lives tenfold." He paused. "I love you," he finished simply. "No matter what other words I say, those are the ones that matter. I love you."
"Please," she whispered frantically, pushing her hips towards him.
He nearly complied with her request before his better senses took hold and, instead, he slid back with a pained groan.
The disappointment was evident on her face, and he was sure that his own was reflecting the same emotion.
"Not yet, darling," he said gently, bending to kiss her and using all of his effort to keep from pushing forward and making a liar of himself. "There will be plenty of time for that once we're married."
With a Herculean effort, he moved away from her completely. It had been such a long time since he'd touched a woman intimately. The fact that the woman in question was actually Molly, who had haunted his less gentlemanly dreams for some time now, seemed to only intensify his need. He had found himself partially inside of her before he truly realized what was happening, and further found that he didn't give a damn for propriety.
It was only when he'd finally encountered resistance that he'd stopped. And even then, with her whispered plea, he nearly continued onward.
He sensed that being this close was a dangerous proposition, but found that he didn't care. He'd spent too much time overthinking all aspects of their relationship, and he'd nearly lost her as a result.
It wasn't going to happen again.
Desperately needing a distraction, he grabbed her legs and brought them up over his shoulders before burying his face between her thighs.
He used his mouth with a sense of urgency, unable to slow or stop himself until she was trembling against him, her legs thrashing against his ears while her hand wove its way into his hair and tugged at the strands.
Finally, as her shaking ceased, he pulled back from her and pulled himself up to his knees. He watched her for a few moments, smiling at the thought that those fluttering eyes, those perfect breasts that rose and fell with each respiration, were his.
Gently, he ran his erection through her lips, amazed that he was still hard. She pressed her hips towards him again, another quiet plea falling from her lips.
It was almost his undoing.
"Be careful," he murmured, pulling away from her again. "If you keep asking, I won't be able to say no one of these times."
She grinned in wicked amusement and her hips surged towards him once more, her mouth forming those words that were driving him insane. "Please?"
He stared down at her, both amused and frustrated by her boldness. "You're cheeky," he laughed, bending down to kiss her. He didn't think he'd ever get tired of kissing her.
After several more satisfying variations of play, including one delightful moment in which he found himself in her mouth, they both collapsed onto the sofa they'd been occupying for hours.
He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him and kissing her again and again. She nestled into his body, more contented than she'd ever been in her short life.
"I'm not dreaming, am I?" She asked, tracing a pattern on his bare chest.
"No, love," he confirmed for the third time that evening, plucking her hand off of his chest and kissing it gently.
"This is real…you and I…."
He smiled. "Molly," he said, bringing her chin up so her eyes met his. "I love you. I'm sorry it's taken me this long to stop being a hard-headed idiot about it. I'm going to marry you, sweetheart, and we're going to have a long and happy life together. We're both going to have the life we deserve."