Haunting Desire (3 page)

“I did not attack y’, lass,” he said darkly.

Shealy felt heat rise in her cheeks. No, he hadn’t. In fact, he’d saved her from the pale man.

“But it’s your fault I’m here,” she managed to say, not sure at all if she spoke the truth. “You brought me.”

Something flashed in those incredible eyes, something masculine and possessive, as if that simple statement—
you brought me—
had somehow made her his. She felt her mouth go dry, her heart begin to hammer.

“What is yer father’s name? Tell me.”

Bristling at his bossy tone, she mumbled, “Donnell. Donnell O’Leary.”

“Leary,” both he and his brother said at once, as if the name were a filthy profanity. He dropped his hand and stood abruptly.

“
O
’Leary,” she corrected, more baffled by the moment.

Tiarnan said, “And did yer father take y’ to the place I found y’ so he could give y’ to Cathán? Did he plan it?”

“Are you crazy?” she snapped. “No. That man
attacked us
. He hurt my father. Might have . . .”

She swallowed hard. She would not say what she thought. Her dad wasn’t here, but that didn’t mean the worst had happened. That didn’t mean he wasn’t someplace else—someplace safe. Someplace where wild beasts weren’t howling like creatures of the night. She took a deep breath.

“My father would never have intentionally put me in harm’s way,” she said in a low voice.

Tiarnan studied her with such intensity she wanted to squirm. Then at last he said, “I believe y’.”

She didn’t know why she trusted him, why his belief in her mattered so much, but relief made her eyes sting and caught her off guard, taunting the weepy feeling swelling inside her. She stiffened her back, tried to focus her mind on anything but throwing herself into those strong-looking arms and bawling like a baby.

“Tiarnan,” the boy said. “We’re trapped and they’ve doubled since y’ vanished. We’ve not time to sort this out now.”

Shealy didn’t need him to spell out what
they
were. She could hear them. The frenzied animals had grown more agitated at the sound of their voices, and their loud snarls finally seemed to register in Tiarnan’s awareness. He strode to the edge of the stone tableau and looked down. The insanely snarling beasts must have been waiting just below, because their barks and growls escalated. Rabid. Echoing off the shale and slate, rebounding from the clear blue sky.

He cursed softly.

What in the hell was down there?

Shealy’s body felt battered and torn, but she forced herself to stand. The boy glared at her, still holding his knife. The look in his eyes said he knew how to use it and he wouldn’t hesitate.

Giving the bloodthirsty boy a wide berth, she hobbled to the edge of the flattened rock, taking in the landscape that crowded up to it. Harsh, unforgiving, drenched in green so lush it hurt her eyes, it stretched out, connecting the rocky crag looming behind her to the dark forest in the distance ahead. The browns and blacks of bark and boulders looked like violent scars in a drenched mosaic. The colors were too bright,
too stark
to be real.

And yet, without a doubt, it
was
real. Horrifyingly real.

She reached the edge and looked down.

Wolves, more than she could count, jockeyed and fought to climb onto the elevated table and reach them on top of the large flat rock. They were huge creatures with matted fur and bloody snouts. They jumped and nipped, snapping at one another, foaming at the mouth. With a cry, she stumbled back into something hard and unyielding. Arms came up around her, steadying her, holding her. She spun within them and found herself face to bare chest with the dark warrior.

She tilted her head, all too aware of the muscles and strength in that chest, all too aware of the man standing so close she could feel his heat. He smelled of leather and sweat and the fresh sea air.

Her gaze moved up the solid wall of muscle to the strong, square chin, the nose—crooked and scarred from breaking—the slashing dark brows arched over those amazing golden eyes, the long sooty lashes that framed them. His features were masculine and beautiful. A work of art in rough-hewn lines and forbidding tones. Compelling. Fascinating.
Dangerous.

“Where are we?” she asked, surprised by the huskiness in her voice.

She felt his gaze on her scars again and automatically shook her head, letting her hair fall forward to hide them. He frowned at the gesture, rattling what little composure she had.

“We are in Fennore,” he said.

Even his voice set off a tingle inside her.

“Ireland?” she asked.
Ireland? This?
“But . . . how . . . where . . . Are you saying this is the Isle of Fennore?”

She hated to even ask the question. The car accident that had killed her pregnant mother and nearly killed Shealy had occurred on the Isle of Fennore. She would never think of one without the other.

“No,” he answered. “ ’Tis the black heart of Fennore. Inis Brandubh.”

Brawn-doov.
He made it sound almost musical, but she didn’t know what it meant. Her Irish had never been good, and most of it had been forgotten in the years since she’d lived on American soil.
Inis
she recognized, though. That was
island
. So did he mean they were on Black Heart Island?

She gave Tiarnan a wary look, found him studying her again. His big hands were splayed over her waist, warm and disturbing, still holding her against his body. She should push him away, but something in the stillness of his grip, in the swirling gold and brown of his eyes stopped her. For a moment she felt the burn and churn of a conflict within him that she had no hope of understanding.

“Who are y’?” he asked at last.

“I’m Shealy,” she said. “Shealy O’Leary.”

“Leary,” he muttered once more in a tone that held a confusing mix of accusation, confirmation, and resignation.

He released her, stepping back with a reluctance she couldn’t miss. Her body swayed in protest, agreeing wholeheartedly that he should continue to hold her, to hold back her fears. As he turned, she caught another glimpse of emotion in those whiskey eyes. Regret and hunger, at war with one another.

“Who are
you
?” she asked when he began to pace like a caged lion, scanning the rocky cliff face behind them, then stalking to the other side of the stone plateau and staring out into the distance.

“I am Tiarnan.”

As if that should explain everything.

“And this is my brother, Liam. We are prisoners here.”

Prisoners?
Shealy felt her jaw drop. “Why? Why are you prisoners?”

He flashed her a quick look. “
Why
is a pointless question and one neither of us can answer.”

The ferocious wolves tracked him from the ground as he paced from edge to edge of the stone, jumping and yelping in vicious excitement. It suddenly dawned on her that Tiarnan was looking for a means to make their precarious perch defensible or a way to make their escape.

Good God, he thought those wolves would find a way up. Her realization came with a thousand grisly images that nearly made her swoon. She’d thought they were safe as long as they remained on their elevated perch.

Abandoning further questions, she spun and searched the same formidable rocks and vistas, seeing nothing that looked even close to an escape route. Worse, she saw that the rising slope behind them left their sanctuary uncertain at best. If those wolves were half as smart as the wolves she’d seen on the Discovery Channel, they’d find a way up the crag’s face. She saw a point higher up where, if they reached it, they could leap over the gulf to the top of the stone plateau and get to their human prey.

Tiarnan examined the landscape with focused intensity. There were dark blotches in the shale that might have been caves, and he studied each silently. His shoulders were tight, his expression drawn. In his stance, in his steady weighing of odds, the considering glance at her, the pensive look at his brother . . . all of it gave her a flash of insight. This man was no stranger to dire circumstances. In that moment, he looked like someone accustomed to being the barrier between the life and death of those who depended on him. Accustomed to it and so weary of it. She saw it in every line of his body.

As if sensing her eyes on him, he looked up and once again pinned her with the heat of his gaze. It felt like he could see right through her to the vulnerability she fought so hard to hide. He might have saved her when the one he called Cathán had attacked, but she’d be a fool not to recognize danger in this man.

She broke away from the force of his stare and took a step back, searching for a way off this rock that didn’t end with being eaten alive. On one side stood the forest that might offer shelter, but to get there they’d have to cross the wide open valley where there would be ample space for the pack to surround and kill them. That left the crag rising behind. The wall surged up ten or twelve feet before breaking down into boulders, then rocks that sloped and merged until they reached a high flat plain that looked like it stretched from rim to rim, as if the top of the mountain had been sliced cleanly off. On the other side she could hear the roar of the sea as it spewed and churned.

“We need to go up,” Tiarnan said, pointing at the stone wall with its broken, jagged ledges and irregular protrusions.

Shealy saw only the impossibility of reaching it and the fear that even if they managed to get from this plateau to the top of the other, they wouldn’t be able to escape. The wolves barked and growled incessantly as they circled below.

He went on calmly, as if life and death didn’t hinge on his decision. “The caves won’t help us—we’d just be exchanging one trap for another and if we’re to die, I’d rather do it in the sea than be cornered in a dark hole. But if we could make it up that wee hill, there’s a chance we could lose them.”

“She won’t be able to make the jump,” Liam said, pointing an accusing finger at Shealy. “It’s too far.”

“She’ll make it,” Tiarnan said with a certainty that stunned her and almost made her believe him. But then she eyed the gap between the stone table and sheer rock wall—the jump he intended for her to make—and had to agree with Liam. Not only was the distance too far, they’d all need suction cups attached to their hands and feet to cling to the surface on the other side.

“We should leave her,” Liam said, a scowl on his angel face. “She’s not our problem.”

“No,” Tiarnan said. “She comes with us.”

A soft breath escaped her. Flushing at the betraying sound she’d made, Shealy locked her knees to keep them from banging together. She didn’t want to think of what would happen if these two males left her behind. She didn’t want Tiarnan to know how grateful that one negative response had made her.

Tiarnan went on without glancing her way. “Her father opened the door, Liam. Do y’ understand? For a moment, I escaped. If he’s still alive, he’ll be looking for her and when he finds her, he’ll open it again. When that happens, y’ and I are going through.”

His words rolled over her, hard and flat. He wanted to use her like so many had before, and in doing so he would make sure she survived. He was wrong about her father, of course. Her father couldn’t open any mystery door and free these two from this hellish place. Wrong to think that Donnell had anything to do with their current circumstances, but she didn’t think it prudent to point that out now.

At that moment, one of the wolves scrambled up the sheer base of stone. The animal made it only a few feet and then pitched back, falling with a thud and yelp. But now others attempted it, their large paws gripping, claws spreading as they tried to scale the wall.

Beside her, Tiarnan rubbed the bloody wound at his shoulder and swayed on his feet but he didn’t fall. She saw resolve on his face.

“There,” he said, pointing to a jutting shelf that poked out a few feet up.

It didn’t look very large or sturdy to Shealy, but from there they might be able to reach the lip between the massive boulders stacked on top of it and climb higher.

To get to the ledge, they would have to jump from the formation where the wolves had them trapped, across ten feet of bared fangs and bloodlust, catch the ridge just right, and then hope they could scramble up to the next level. It could be done. Possibly.

Tiarnan looked from his brother to her and back. Shealy knew he struggled to put parameters around their escape and form a plan that wasn’t doomed. It was a lost cause, though. They had one way off this rock, and it didn’t come with a safety net. Taking a deep breath, she stiffened her spine and raised her chin proudly. She’d never considered herself a weak or simpering woman. She was Irish, and Irish women did not bow to adversity, no matter how terrified they might be.

“They’re coming, Tiarnan,” Liam said.

He was right. The wolves surged up the crag, slipping, falling, fighting. But each attempt brought them closer to their goal, to the place in the shale where they, too, could make a critical leap.

The brothers exchanged a silent look, and she saw some decision reached.

Tiarnan pulled her forward then moved to stand at her back. From behind her he leveled his arm on her shoulder, pointing at what looked like a miniscule shelf. Numb, she realized that he intended for her to land there.

“Ye’ll need power and speed in yer jump. Do not think about what yer doing. Just push yerself as far and fast as y’ can.”

Tiarnan waited for her nod and then came around to face her. She’d had years of practice hiding her feelings and now she was grateful for the mask that kept him from seeing the full extent of her terror. He searched her eyes for a silent moment. The brush of his warm fingers across her cheek startled her, but before she could speak, he’d turned away. Without a word he took a running step and leaped up over the chasm to the ledge, hitting hard, stumbling and then catching himself. Both Shealy and Liam watched with wide eyes and terror as the wolves snapped at his heels, fighting with each other as they tried to scale the wall to reach him.