Mulligan Stew (40 page)

She edged sideways through the opening with far more ease than he would, but she was much smaller. "I'm thinking maybe a wall of leaded windows and French doors should replace these monsters. They'll have to complement the historical integrity of the whole place, though."

"Aye, that sounds like a good plan," he said, following her inside, and wondering why the whispers hadn't greeted them. The silence was odd. Disconcerting. Bridget didn't seem to have noticed. Perhaps she still heard them.

After spreading the blanket out near the hearth, he lit the candles she'd placed in the small alcoves that flanked Aidan's portrait, far enough away to prevent any accidents, yet close enough to offer a cheery glow.

You've lost it, Mulligan—a "cheery glow" in this place?

Aye, but it was. He raked his fingers through his hair, watching Bridget set out plates and wineglasses. She perched herself on a corner of the blanket and held her hand out to display her work. "Dessert is served, sir."

His gasp echoed off the walls and she laughed at him.
Laughed!
How often had he thought of her as dessert? "Why are you laughing?" he asked, positioning himself as comfortably as possible, and wishing he'd left his belt in his closet. It pinched something awful.

"I don't have to answer that question," she whispered in a sultry tone that rippled through him. She passed him a plate bearing a tart. "It could prove incriminating."

He held his breath, watching her work while bathed in candlelight. After pouring them each a glass of wine, she nibbled at her tart in silence. After a few bites, she licked her fingers.

And almost killed him.

He
wanted to lick her fingers. Her neck. Her breasts. Her navel. Her—

Jaysus.

"What's wrong, Riley?" she asked. "You aren't eating. I expect all the customers in my restaurant to leave happy and fulfilled. Eat."

Fulfilled?
Aye, just what he had in mind, but only she could provide the sort of fulfillment he craved.

Ignoring his fork, he picked up the tart with his fingers and took a huge bite, chewing as he stared at her sipping her wine. The tart was cheese and filled his mouth with creamy sweetness. He popped the last bit into his mouth and stacked their plates and forks, dropping them into the basket while still chewing.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting these out of the way," he said, his voice husky.

"Oh." She giggled. "Don't put the wine away yet."

He moved to sit beside her, leaning against the wall behind them. Knowing Aidan's portrait hung nearby, just over the hearth, he swallowed hard. He had to make certain his feelings weren't part of any stupid spell. "Are you getting tipsy, Bridget Colleen?" he asked.

"Mmm." She fell silent for a moment and held her glass out for him to refill. "I don't think so. I've only had champagne once in my life. No wine."

"No other alcohol at all?" He watched her take the refilled glass to her lips for a generous sip.

"None."

"Best go easy, then." He took a sip himself. As a rule, Riley wasn't much of a wine drinker. He'd have preferred a Guinness.

She giggled again. The sound circled him like music—like the whispering he
didn't
hear tonight normally would. Why was tonight different?

Was it because he'd finally faced the worst of his own, personal demons and set them free? The thought gnawed at him as he sipped the wine and stared at Bridget.

"Penny for your thoughts," she said, her voice taking on that sultry note again.

"You think they're worth a penny?" he teased.

"Riley, everything about you is worth much, much more."

He held his breath as she scooted closer until her shoulder pressed against his. The candlelight flickered and a cool breeze sifted through the opening and beneath the double doors. The wind didn't normally carry such a chill in June.

"I think it's going to storm," he said.

"Is it?" She leaned her head against his shoulder. "Let it."

"We should go back."

"I like it here. Right here." She looked up at him and he smelled the sweet wine on her breath. "With you."

Riley flinched. "Lass, you're torturing me again."

She turned slightly, her breast pressing against his arm. "I'm still waiting for dangerous."

He was in serious trouble here. "You're tempting fate," he whispered.

"You haven't objected so far...."

A tremor rippled through him and he put his arm around her, drawing her against him. The softness of her breast seared him. He wanted her naked in the candlelight—right here in
Caisleán Dubh
. Especially tonight, when the whispers were blessedly absent.

She stroked his thigh through denim, sending shockwaves of pleasure through his entire body. With a trembling hand, he reached down and grabbed her wrist.

"How much wine did you drink?" he asked, needing to assure himself that she was sober.

"Half-a-glass at supper, and a whole one plus a little here."

"You're not drunk then." He released her wrist.

"Of course not." She resumed stroking his leg.

"You're sure?"

"Not drunk," she said on a sigh. "Did you notice the quiet?"

"Aye."

"What do you think it means?" Her fingers traced their way higher up his thigh, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"I... I'm not sure." He shifted, trying to find a comfortable position, but he was so engorged and his jeans were so snug, there was no such thing as comfortable. "Maybe the castle is getting used to us."

She giggled again and stopped tormenting his thigh. Instead, she turned sideways and lifted her delectable bottom onto his lap.

"Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph!" Riley's head hit the wall behind him with a thud that echoed through the chamber. "I was right all along—you
are
trying to kill me."

At least she didn't giggle this time. Her wine-scented breath fanned his face and he breathed in her essence. Meeting her lips halfway, he tasted her, drank from her, hungered for her.

With nimble fingers she released the buttons at the front of his shirt and pulled it from his waistband. If she didn't stop squirming on his lap, he would explode before they ever reached any point more intimate.

And intimate was exactly what he had in mind.

Now. Tonight.

He dragged his lips from hers, needing to ask her one more time. "Do you know what you're doing, Bridget? Where this will lead?"

"To a dream come true."

Bridget moaned as he rose off the blanket and lowered her onto her back. The candlelight flowed around him, reminding her of her dream, when he'd stood before the hearth with the fire's glow outlining his magnificent body.

His shirt gaped open and she satisfied her need to touch him. She pressed her palms flat against his chest, stroking the hair, loving the feel of his bare skin.
Yes, skin.

She'd never been as ready in her life as she was now. Culley had been a tender lover, but she'd been young and inexperienced. Now she knew what she wanted.

Riley kissed her again, releasing the clip holding her hair. He spread the tresses out around her face like a fan. Her heart hammered in her chest, and her most private place clenched the emptiness he would fill. "Hurry," she whispered, reaching for his belt buckle.

"This isn't to be rushed," he said, his voice sounding strained. "No matter how eager we both are."

"Eager is an understatement." She gave a throaty chuckle. "I feel as if we've been waiting
centuries
for this."

He stilled over her, gazing down through the darkness, and making her wonder what she'd done wrong. "What is it, Riley?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

"Not you," he said, kissing her again. "I just remembered something. That's all."

He trailed kisses along the side of her throat while his fingers released the buttons down the front of her blouse. The cool air flowed over her as he rose high enough to ease her blouse from her shoulders, freeing her arms.

She shivered until he covered her again. The wind howled outside and the surf crashed against the cliff below. "A storm," she whispered.

"Aye." His voice rumbled through her and straight into her bone marrow. "A storm here, too."

"Be dangerous, Riley," she invited, her voice falling to a husky whisper. "Very dangerous."

Molten lava rushed through her as he cupped her breasts in his large hands. "Sweet." He drew on her nipple right through her bra. After a moment, he reached behind her and unhooked it, tossing it aside.

Again, he took her breasts, but this time free of barriers. Bridget arched upward against him, weaving her fingers through his hair, holding him to her. She loved the way he made her feel, the burning deep in her loins and in her heart.

She loved
him.

A whimper slipped from her lips at the thought, and he rose over her. The wind caressed her damp nipples and she shivered.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked.

"No."

"You made a wee sound, and I thought..."

"You could never hurt me, Riley," she said, believing it. "Unless you don't finish this before I die from the wanting."

He chuckled and circled her nipples with his tongue, cradling her breasts in both hands. She wanted him naked. Both of them.

She reached for his belt again, and this time he didn't stop her. She released his belt buckle, followed by the snap and zipper at his fly. Her hand trembled and he left her breasts to push himself higher above her. She felt each of the five buttons at the front of her jeans pop open, bringing her closer and closer to Riley.

She pushed his zipper lower, hoping she wouldn't catch anything vital in its teeth, which made her giggle again.

"I've never known a woman to giggle so much during lovemaking," Riley said.

She stopped lowering his zipper, stricken. "Is that bad? I'm sorry. I'll try not—"

"Don't you dare," he whispered, kissing her again before he resumed lowering her jeans. "Don't ever stop laughing. Don't ever stop being yourself, Bridget. 'Tis you I want. You I need. Only you."

She ached to tell him she loved him, but instead she would show him. The telling could come later. She reached for his zipper again, lowering it a little at a time. His heat radiated through the fabric. He would be hot to the touch, and her hands itched to do just that. In last night's dream, she had taken him with her mouth. She wasn't quite ready for that, but perhaps later....

"I want to see you. All of you," he whispered, his breathing labored. "Let's be rid of these bloody barriers once and for all." He rose onto his knees, easing his jeans down his slim hips. "You, too. I won't be naked alone."

"No," she whispered, following his lead. "You won't be."

She watched him roll onto his hips to shed his jeans. A moment later, they knelt before one another completely naked. Bridget could scarcely breathe. She leaned toward him, felt his erection brush against her belly. "Oh, God."

He cupped her breasts in his hands, brushing his thumbs across her nipples. "You're so beautiful."

She looked down between them and followed her urge to touch him. Groaning as her fingers encircled him, she hissed an indrawn breath in anticipation of having him inside her.

"Aye, luv. I feel it, too. The hunger..."

She stroked his length, amazed that something so hard could be covered with such soft skin. The more she touched him, the more she wanted him. "I... I can't wait, Riley."

He pressed her down to the blanket again and kissed her breasts, drawing the sensitive peaks inward, driving her mad with the want of more. After torturing her to a trembling mass, he moved lower, tickling her navel with his tongue. He cradled her bottom in his hands, tilting her hips.

Bridget held her breath—afraid he would and afraid he wouldn't. Just like her dream... Her legs trembled and he held her bottom more firmly.

His breath scorched the tender flesh between her legs as he said, "Open for me."

And she did. Shockingly. Wantonly. Shamelessly.

He teased her with his tongue, stroking and tasting at leisure. Bridget moaned as he covered the sensitive nub with his mouth and drew gently. She clawed at the blanket, filling her hands, fighting the urge to grab his head and hold him against her. She wasn't
that
far gone.

He slid his fingers inside her as he drew against the deliciously tingling nucleus. That did it. She released the blanket and buried her fingers in his hair, gently urging him not to stop.

She moaned, whimpered, climbed higher and higher as he tortured her. An explosion built within her, pushing her closer and closer to a steep precipice. She would fall. She wanted to fall.

A scream tore from her throat as she plunged into a pit of ecstasy. Within seconds, he was over her again. As if in a daze, she reached between them and drew him closer.

"Fill me," she whispered, bringing her knees up to angle herself better. "I want you inside me.
Now
."