30DaystoSyn (36 page)

“Said she, ‘I’ll be gone a very long
while; And will not be back this way.’;

“Will she ever return, my lady, my love?”
he begged of her mother one night;

“Said she, ‘I fear my daughter is dead;
And will never return to our sight.’

He mourned for the lady, his lady, his
love;

He wept for her the night and the day;

“Said he, ‘I will go to meet my one
love; For I believe I have now found the way.’

“He took to his bed in the cold fading
light;

Turned his eyes to the sky above;

“Said he, ‘I seek what I know I shall
find; I go to be with my love.’

“They laid him down in the green, green
grass.

On the hills overlooking the town.

“And on his grave they carved these
lines:

The Prince’s Lost Lady Is Found.

The Prince’s Lost Lady Is Found.”

Tears filled her eyes as the last of the
refrain died away and the others began to clap in appreciation. She squeezed
his hand and turned her head toward him. He leaned in to claim her lips in a
slow, lingering kiss.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re very welcome, my love,” he replied
as the singers struck up a very lively rendition of
Marie’s Wedding
.

Throughout the evening, they sang and
clapped and stomped their feet to the songs of the Irish troubadours. Near the
end of the performance, Sean Cullen came on stage without his black guitar with
Seamus Coyne carrying a bodhrán.

“Ooh!” Spike said. “He’s going to
stepdance! Jono, he’s going to step dance!”

Sean winked at her and Seamus started
playing the Irish frame drum with a tipper—a lathe-turned piece of hickory
wood. Sean’s feet began stamping out a swift, complicated series of steps that
had everyone’s eyes glued to the floor beneath his hard shoes—the soles of
which had fiberglass molded to the heels and toes. When
the Dance at the
Crossroads
was over, everyone was on his or her feet clapping
enthusiastically. Jono gave a shrill whistle through his fingers.

“I…I…” She couldn’t think of the words to
tell her lover how much she had enjoyed the performance.

“Just wait,” he said, kissed her hand again
then released it. He stood then hopped up on the stage with Sean, shook the
handsome Irishman’s hand then positioned himself at the center mic.

“He’s going to sing?” Craigie asked. “Oh,
God help us!”

She knew. Even before Sean Cullen began the
song a cappella she knew what the song would be. When Sean finished, the Coyne
brothers and Synjyn joined in on the chorus of
Red is the Rose
. When the
chorus was done, Synjyn McGregor’s clear, strong baritone voice rang out and
everyone who had never heard him sing was stunned into silence.

‘Twas down by Killarney’s green woods
that we strayed

When the moon and the stars they were
shining

The moon shone its rays on her locks of
golden hair

And she swore she’d be my love forever.

“My God,” Spike whispered as the other men
joined in on the chorus. “Lina, did you know he could sing like that?”

“Yes,” she said, staring into his eyes,
though she doubted he could see hers because of the spotlight on him.

The song ended and everyone save her hooted
with absolute astonishment. They shot to their feet and rushed up to the stage,
insulting and complimenting the Kiwi at the same time.

“Cor blimey,” Jonny said. “And here I
thought all your voice was good for was yelling and cursing!” He stuck out his
hand. “Put it there, bro!”

He shook hands with Jonny and Craigie and
Kit, exchanged hugs with Spike, Craigie’s and Kit’s wives, then stepped off the
stage. He held out his hand.

“Come meet the lads,” he said.

She was awestruck at meeting the four men
whose voices had inspired and entertained her, whose albums she had devoured
time and time again. They were as wickedly funny and flirtatious as she thought
they’d be—Black Irish rogues all four of them. But it was Sean Cullen who stole
her heart. He kissed the underside of her wrist when he took her hand and
slowly winked at her as he looked up at her during the kiss.

“She’s taken,” the Kiwi said.

“I’m heartbroken,” Sean said on a long
sigh.

The singers stayed for several rounds of
drinks then said their goodbyes. They had a gig in Belfast the following day
and had to leave earlier than they would have liked. It didn’t surprised her to
learn that her lover had sent his corporate jet to pick them up from across the
pond and was sending them back to Ireland the same way.

“A part of me is very curious to know how
much that cost you,” she said as they took the elevator up to his private
suite.

“Let’s just say I could have fed a small
army.” He had possession of her hand and brought it to his lips. “But it was
worth any amount of money to see the look on your face when you realized who
would be singing.”

She turned to him and he caught her other
hand, pulling her to him. “Thank you, Kiwi.”

“You are welcome,” he said.

He bent his dark head and took her lips
gently, sweetly, his tongue barely grazing the underside of her front teeth as
the elevator stopped and the doors slid silently open.

Once inside his suite, he took her directly
to his bedroom. Slowly he removed the pullover and skirt, her bra and panties
and swept her into his arms to lay her on his bed.

“I’m a bit disappointed,” she said as he
tugged his lightweight wool sweater over his head.

He sat down in the chair by the bed and
pulled off his sneakers and stuffed his socks into them. “How so?” he asked,
setting the sneakers on the other side of the chair.

She turned to her side and propped her head
on her fist. “I thought you would be taking me to the Dungeon tonight.”

He arched a brow as he got to his feet.
“Really?” He unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his fly then ran the zipper. “How
did you get that notion?”

She followed the progress of his strong
hands as he pushed the jeans from his hips and down his thighs, thinking how
perfect those thighs were. Nice and thick with just the right amount of dark,
curly hair covering them.

And what was nestled between those thighs
was equally nice and thick.

“You were going to take me there last
night, weren’t you?” she asked.

He stepped out of his jeans, tossed them to
the chair then came over to the bed. She turned to her back when he put a knee
to the mattress and loomed over her.

“Do you want to visit the Dungeon?” he
asked, settling his weight upon her, nudging her legs apart with his knees, and
lowering his lips to the curve of her neck.

“I’m just curious,” she replied.

He put his lips to her ear. “You know what
they say about curiosity,” he whispered then caught her earlobe between his
teeth.

A shiver ran along her spine and she put
her hands up to smooth over his back.

“But satisfaction brought her back,” she
said.

He lifted his head and looked at her—his
eyes smoldering. “You want to be satisfied in my Dungeon, wench?” he inquired.

“I want to
see
your Dungeon, Kiwi,”
she said. She tilted her head to one side. “What’s in there, anyway?”

A slow, evil smile stretched his lips.
“Chains and handcuffs and all manner of other restraints.”

“Not my cup of tea,” she said. “Anything
else?”

“Whips and quirts and paddles.”

“Ah, no.”

“Vibrators and dildos and anal beads and—”

“Anal? Ugh!” she said, making a face. “Even
the word turns me off.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Don’t knock what you
haven’t tried, woman.”

“No, thank you,” she said.

He shrugged. “There are other things you
have to experience to understand.” He rubbed his stiffening cock against her.
“Things that don’t cause pain but a great deal of pleasure.”

“Like?”

“Ben Wa balls for one,” he said. “Do you
know what they are?”

She felt her cheeks burning. “I’ve heard of
them, yes.”

“But do you know what they do when they are
inserted inside?”

She shuddered. “I don’t think…”

“Yes, do think,” he ordered. “Think about
two smooth little balls clicking together inside your cunt—stimulating you,
rolling across your G-spot and when I enter you…”

“
What
?” she gasped. “With them still
inside me?”

“Of course,” he said. “They will give me
pleasure too, rolling over the head of my cock.”

Her entire body quivered at the image.

“Do you want me to take you down there?” he
asked and she understood clearly the double meaning.

She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth
and looked intently into his eyes. “You won’t hurt me?”

“I will never hurt you, baby,” he told her.

“Promise?”

He placed his forehead to hers. “On my
honor, I swear it to you.”

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she
nodded. “Yes, I’d like to see it.”

He moved off her and walked over to the
armoire.

“I’m not sure I want anyone to see…”

“There’s no one here, baby,” he said over
his shoulder. “Everyone has left, the security system is engaged, and the
cameras are turned off.” He turned around with a gift-wrapped box in one hand
and a pair of black shorts in the other. “No one will see us and no one will
ever know we went down there.” He came back to the bed and handed her the gaily
wrapped package.

“What is it?” she asked.

He rolled his eyes. “Open it and see,” he
said as he bent over to step into the shorts.

She removed the bright-pink foil ribbon
from the box and turned it over to carefully undo the tape holding the paper to
the box. She heard him sigh but refused to look up at him. He had his forearms
braced on the footboard of the bed as she peeled back the paper. Just to be
perverse and make him wait, she laid the box aside to neatly fold the paper.

“Woman…” he warned, a low growl
accompanying the word.

She smiled—still not looking at him—put the
paper aside then picked up the box. She lifted it to her ear and shook it.

“Now you are really starting to irritate
me, Melina,” he said.

She didn’t reply. She laid the box in her
lap and lifted the lid.

“Ooh,” she said, looking down at a gorgeous
black silk fabric over which was embroidered gardenias.

“You like it?” he asked.

“I love it,” she said.

“Put it on.”

She swung her legs from the bed, drawing
the gift from its box as she did. She held it up and when she saw the single
red rose embroidered on the front over where her heart would be once the silk
robe was on her body, she felt a prickle of tears behind her eyes. Under the
rose was her name in a flowery script and wound around the stem of the rose was
his name written in a font fashioned from thorns.

“Where did you find this?” she whispered.

“I had it made in Dubai for you,” he said.

She went to him, threw her arms around his
neck. “You are the most wonderful man a woman could ever want!”

He wrapped his arms around her and held her
so tightly he never wanted to let her go. Her words gave him hope that in three
days’ time, he would be the only man she would ever want.

“Put it on. Let me see,” he said,
reluctantly releasing her. He stepped back, anxious to see what she looked
like—her bare toes peeking from the hem of the lush robe—knowing she wore
nothing underneath.

She slid her slender arm into the sleeve
and the satisfied moan that came from deep in her throat pleased him.

“It feels like being enveloped in cool air
it’s so lightweight,” she said, pulling the belt around her waist. She ran the
palms of her hands down the material. “Kiwi, it is so beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as the woman wearing it,”
he replied. He put out his hand.

She slipped her fingers through his and he
began walking backward, never taking his eyes from hers.

“I am a helluva lucky man,” he said.

“I’m the lucky one,” she answered.

He turned, drawing her behind him. He led
her through the great room, the foyer and through the door into the seventh
floor landing. He walked over to the floor to ceiling mirror, ran his fingers
along the left edge and the mirror opened outward like a door. Behind it were
stainless steel doors beside which was a palm scanner. He placed his hand
against it and the doors shushed open to reveal a small elevator.

“I have my own portion of the Dungeon,” he
explained. “A place none of the other members know about.”

“Where you take your women in private,” she
said, feeling a hot stab of jealousy at the thought.

“Yes,” he replied and tightened his hand on
hers. He pulled her into the elevator behind him.

“I thought I was the only one you’ve ever
brought up here.”

“You are. There is another elevator similar
to this one downstairs. That’s the one I used with them.”

“How many?” she asked as he pushed the
button marked S4.

“More than I care to remember,” he replied.

The doors closed and the elevator started
down.

She glanced at him for he was staring at
the mirrored finish of the polished doors.

“You’ve a question?”

“Since you value your privacy so
stringently, how do you deal with the women you’ve brought here?”

“Confidentiality agreement,” he said
offhandedly. “They didn’t sign, they didn’t go.”

“And you trust them not to tell anyway.”

“I paid them very well and with the payment
they received a very stern warning about what would happen if they ever
revealed our arrangement.”

“What would happen?” she asked.