Page 39 of Things We Do for Love and Science
She placed one hand on her sternum. “Me, I love a good exhumation.”
He pressed his lips together to control his laughter, but little bursts escaped him every so often.
“And it’s also an old Irish wedding proposal,” she continued.
He raised his eyebrows. “‘Would you like to be buried with my people?’ That’s considered romantic in Ireland?”
“Was, in the olden days.” She folded her hands in her lap. “You should know this, given your Irish roots.”
“I have no...”
A warm chuckle rolled from her throat. “Ah, I forgot, you’re in denial.”
He shook his head, smiling, and concentrated on the road ahead.
Chapter Twelve
Delia made to get outwhen Gabriel pulled to a stop in front of the gatehouse.
“Are you in a hurry?” he asked. “We could have tea.”
“Oh no, not more tea.” She’d had her fill of stimulants for the day.
He unfastened his seatbelt. “You’re right, but don’t you want to come in?”
“I’d love to, but I have a pile of papers to grade for tomorrow and a meeting with my PhD students to prepare. I’m already cutting it close.” Ah, he was so lovely and hospitable, but she couldn’t spare even half an hour.
“Sorry this cost so much of your day.” His eyes were wide with concern. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
“Don’t worry. It was fun in a weird way.” She patted his arm, hoping he’d relax. “Here,” she slipped his mother’s wedding ring from her left hand and offered it to him on her right palm. “You’d better have this back.”
“Thank you.” He dropped the ring into his jacket pocket then faced her. “I know you need to rush home, and this may sound odd, but ever since you told me about your plans for a baby, I haven’t been able to stop thinking maybe I could be the sperm donor for your future child. I mean, if you were to accept me. I wanted to mention the option in case you needed to think about it for a bit.”
She gaped at him. All this time she had his lovely genes in front of her very nose, and she’d never even once considered asking him. She’d never had a male friend before whom she trusted enough to consider for the role of co-parent, but this novel idea certainly held appeal.
She examined his face. “Are you sure? I had pegged you as more the traditional type who’d wait until he was married to his perfect countess before having children. You know, pass on your crumbling palace to the next generation of Renwoods.”
