Wild Irish Rebel (12 page)

"Hey, I spent a long time picking this out," she said, gasping with laughter as his lips descended on hers.

"And I'll spend a long time taking it off you," he murmured and kissed his way down her throat, trailing heat, until his mouth found her nipple through the silk. Morgan moaned and arched her back into him, marveling at this new sensation of wet silk against her skin.

Patrick continued his relentless assault of her breasts while running his hand down her side, trailing goosebumps in his wake. Morgan didn't know what to do with her hands; she wanted to touch him, feel him, be a part of him. Raising her arms, she trailed her hands over his shoulders, marveling at the divets and ridges of his muscles. She stroked his back, pulling him down to her, enjoying the weight of him, the overwhelming manliness of his body hovering over hers.

Morgan gasped as he pulled back and stroked her over her lace panties.

"That feels good," she said softly, nibbling at his shoulder with her mouth.

"I'm going to get you ready for me; just lie back and enjoy this," Patrick said with a smile and continued to stroke her through the silk. Morgan moaned as heat whipped through her, building in a tight coil low in her stomach. She gasped out, wanting more.

"Let go, love," Patrick instructed and Morgan did just that, slipping easily over the edge into a spiral of pleasure that sucked her down as Patrick slid off her underpants and positioned himself between her legs.

"You're going to do it now?" Morgan asked, bracing herself.

Patrick laughed at her, bending to bite at the soft flesh of her inner thigh.

"Not quite yet, soon though," he said and Morgan jumped as he kissed his way up her thigh before finding her with his mouth.

"Oh, oh my." Morgan moaned and arched into him, helpless to control herself as the sensations he teased from her with his tongue whipped through her and sent her careering sharply off the cliff into a wave of pleasure.

Morgan sat up and reached for him, pulling him to her so she could kiss him. She tasted herself on his mouth and it only heightened her pleasure. Patrick broke the kiss and Morgan looked up at him in confusion. He sat back on his heels and reached for a foil packet, holding it up to her.

"Protection. Unless you're on the pill?" he asked.

"No, God, no. I didn't even think about it. Thank you," Morgan said, smiling up at him, knowing that she wouldn't have been able to stop even if they didn't have protection and grateful that they hadn't had to face that choice.

Patrick moved between her legs again, and she met his eyes.

"You're mine," he whispered, bending to trace his lips over hers. Morgan gasped as she felt him, and then he kissed her deeply, causing her to focus on him and not his sudden entrance into her body. Pain quickly gave way to pleasure and Morgan laughed into his mouth as Patrick brought her swiftly into womanhood, claiming her as his forever.

A while later, Morgan took in the new joy of sharing her bed with a man. They lay curled together under her comforter, her head resting on his chest.

"That was wonderful. Should we do it again?" Morgan asked hopefully and she felt his chuckle rumble through his chest.

"I suspect you'll be sore. We'll have plenty of time to practice," Patrick said, pressing his lips to her hair.

"This is nice," Morgan said sleepily against his chest.

"I know. I should probably go though," Patrick said.

Morgan propped herself up on her hands, looking searchingly down into his eyes.

"Stay," she asked. The first time she had ever asked someone to stay in her life, she thought.

Patrick seemed to sense the urgency behind her words and nodded.

"I'd like that."

Chapter Twenty-Three

Patrick whistled as
he unpacked boxes of liquor and stocked the shelves. He was at the pub far earlier in the day than usual, and he had Morgan to thank for that. He supposed they would have to get used to working on different schedules, but it was nothing that a cup of coffee couldn't fix.

He'd never met someone like Morgan before. Stunningly beautiful, completely unaware of it, and surprisingly vulnerable. It had been his experience that most beautiful women knew it and often used it to their advantage. It was a breath of fresh air to be with someone who was so unaware of her own power.

Power, Patrick thought as he stocked a bottle of Jameson's. Though it had surprised him when she'd told him of her extra abilities, it was nothing that he hadn't dealt with before. He already knew about Cait's ability and was fairly certain Aislinn had something going on as well. And there was no denying the whispers of Fiona's great healing powers. It was just a part and parcel of the rhythm and flow of village life. Morgan would fit seamlessly in if she would just let herself.

He wished that she would come to the pub more. Most of the women who were jealous of her beauty would see that Morgan was just shy. If only she would open up a little more, Patrick was certain that Morgan would be accepted by the villagers and would start to feel like this was home.

And wasn't that his biggest fear?

Patrick stilled and thought about it. Morgan was a runner, and she'd been on her own for a long time. He was happy that she was putting down roots here.

He'd just have to do his best to convince her to stay.

Smiling, he went back to work and planned his next way to surprise Morgan.

"You had sex." Cait's accusatory voice caused him to jump and he turned to glare at her.

"Would you just?" Patrick said, cursing softly under his breath and trying to bring his heart rate down.

Cait waddled into the room, her hand unconsciously rubbing the large mound of her belly until she was close enough to poke Patrick in the arm.

"You did. I know."

"Would you stop reading my mind?"

"Please. You're here hours earlier than you should be and you are whistling like a canary bird freed from its cage. I know the signs."

Patrick sighed and wiped his hand over his face.

"Yes, I did. And it was wonderful and she's wonderful and I will do everything in my power to make her happy. Okay?" Patrick said.

Cait measured him with one long glance.

"Okay."

"That's it? No interrogation?"

"No. You know I'll find you and kill you if you hurt her so I'm good with it."

Patrick rolled his eyes at his boss's retreating back.

"Shouldn't you be more focused on having that baby?"

"I'm not due for a few more days."

"Saturday works for me," Patrick called after her and laughed as she flung a middle finger into the air before shutting him into the stock room.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Morgan hummed as
she ran through the numbers from the week before. If they had another week like this, she'd encourage Aislinn to take out some advertising on some of the travel websites. Making a note to contact a few sites for pricing, Morgan glanced up when the bells above the door tinkled.

Just lovely, she thought and then pasted a polite smile on her face as Aileen and Agatha wandered through the gallery to where she stood.

Aileen's cheeks had a slight flush to them and she offered Morgan a sheepish smile. Agatha poked her in the back.

"I know, Mum, I was going to come here either way, you know," Aileen said, glaring over her shoulder at Agatha before turning back to Morgan.

"Can I help you with something?" Morgan asked politely, wishing that she didn't have to deal with this.

"Listen, I'm sorry. I know that I was rude and I shouldn't have been. I'm just very protective of Patrick. And, well," Aileen lifted her hands and let them drop, gesturing to Morgan, "you're just so beautiful and nobody knows your past. I wanted to know what you were about. So, I'm sorry."

Morgan felt the tension draining out of her shoulders and she smiled tentatively at Aileen.

"Thank you. Both for the apology and the compliment. I'm just really shy," Morgan said.

"So Mum said. I shouldn't have poked at your family stuff either. It can't have been easy growing up without a family."

"Aye, it wasn't. The hardest years of my life. Or so I hope. I'm okay with talking about the past, it's just that I'm trying to move forward. Build a life for myself." Morgan shrugged a shoulder, not sure how else to explain.

"And I admire that. I'd like to formally extend the offer of my friendship and I hope that you'll come have a drink at the pub with me one of these days," Aileen said, real warmth coming from her this time. Morgan could tell that her intent was pure so she returned her smile with one of her own.

"I'd like that. Truly."

"Good, now that that's settled, I brought some of my lace with me," Agatha said, raising a leather tote that she was carrying.

Morgan clapped her hands and smiled.

"Wonderful, I'd love to see what we could do. Bring them over here."

"I'm just going to look around," Aileen said and wandered towards a stack of black-and-white photographs.

Morgan nodded and turned her attention to where Agatha had laid her lace out in various piles.

"Doilies, placemats, napkins, and these…aren't these sweet?" Agatha said, holding up a pure white Christening bonnet with lace trim. Morgan felt her heart twist a bit about the thought of a baby wearing one as well as in admiration of her fine work.

"These are beautiful. What a fine gift. I'd like to buy one for Cait," Morgan said impulsively and then stopped herself from adding "and Keelin." Keelin's pregnancy news was still being kept quiet and Morgan wasn't going to be the one to let the cat out of the bag.

"If you'd like to wait until the baby is born, I can embroider his or her name or initials on it," Agatha offered.

"That'd be wonderful, thank you."

"So, do you really think these will sell in an art gallery?"

Morgan scanned the goods laid out before her and nodded.

"My only concern is how quickly can you make these? I suspect that they will sell very quickly."

Agatha blushed and smiled, a determined glint in her eyes.

"As fast as you need them. I can pay my girls to help too."

Morgan fingered the plastic wrapping surrounding one of the placemats.

"I'm glad that you wrapped these in plastic, but I think we could up the presentation a bit," she said, nibbling at her lip. 

"I actually had the same thought and brought some ideas," Agatha said eagerly and pulled several rolls of ribbon from her tote. "What do you think about wrapping these around and then tying a handwritten card to it?"

Morgan studied the ribbon and then pulled one from the pile. It was a thick crème ribbon, with a lovely sheen that made it look luxe. Wrapping it around the placemat and tying it she studied it.

"With a sprig of dried flower," she decided.

"Oh! Perfect," Agatha gushed.

"Yes, this is the ribbon. Tie a card and a little sprig of flower or stick with it and it will be lovely and unique. I'll take them all. What will you sell them for? I was thinking a 50% commission but because you are local, I'd offer a 60% deal. We'll keep 40% of the profit and you keep the rest. Will that work for you?"

Agatha's mouth dropped open and she looked like a fish out of water gasping for air, before she clutched at Morgan's arm.

"Sixty percent? The stores in Dublin just buy them at a flat rate. I have no idea what they sell them for."

"Why that's just wrong. You're probably losing money. What do you sell say, four napkins for?" Morgan asked, her eyebrow raised. She was quite certain that Agatha was getting ripped off.

"Hmm, 4 euros a napkin. Twelve for the set?"

It was Morgan's turn to look like a fish out of water.

"Sure and you're giving me a heart attack. These are handmade! You must charge a premium for these," Morgan said.

"What should I charge? Oh, I don’t even know," Agatha said, worry in her eyes.

"Told you that you were getting ripped off," Aileen called from across the gallery.

"I think if we package them nicely and have a little story about how they are made in the village, we could easily sell a set of these napkins for 34 to 40 euros," Morgan mused.

"You've got to be kidding me. For napkins?"

"You'd be amazed at what tourists spend their money on. And, a handmade local gift…they'll eat it right up."

"Why, we could take a nice vacation. I could pay my daughters to help, this could be wonderful," Agatha gushed.

"I think it will be perfect. We'll set up a lovely set of shelves to display your work," Morgan agreed and jumped when Agatha impulsively hugged her. She stiffened for a moment and then returned the hug, trying not to think what she had been doing with this woman's son the night before.

"Thank you. I don't know why I haven't tried to sell it locally before. I guess I just didn't think I was good enough," Agatha whispered.

Morgan pulled back and smiled down at her.

"Your work is truly art. It's an honor to have it in the shop."

"Aileen, I hope you're ready to work," Agatha called to Aileen as she turned to leave. "Come now, we must get started on the bows and labels. Let's stop by the flower shop for some of their dried blooms. It will be a lovely addition to the label. Bless you, Morgan!" Agatha called over her shoulder and Aileen waved as they swung out the door, their heads bowed together as they chatted animatedly, mother and daughter in synch together.

A part of Morgan wished for that same closeness.

She waved the brief spot of melancholy away and turned back to the pile of lace. And just like that, she'd added two more people to the group that she could call friends in this village.

It felt good, she decided. She was slowly putting down roots, making friends, even building a little network of support for herself.

She hadn't known how much she wanted it until she'd had it, Morgan thought as she stacked the piles of lace on a shelf in the back, wanting to wait to sell them until they had their labels.

Coming to Grace's Cove had been the best thing for her. She just wished that she could shake the feeling of imminent danger that crept up the back of her neck. Was it just because she had struggled for so long that she wasn't able to accept joy into her life? Morgan paused to consider the thought. This was a question for her session with Baird. Why was it that she felt like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop? As though she wasn't deserving of happiness, Morgan mused.

I am though
, Morgan thought.
It's my turn. I'm going to hold on to this with all I can.

The bells tinkled again and Morgan turned to greet her next customer, pushing her uneasiness aside. There was work to be done.

"Are those lace? Oh, how lovely," the customer said, looking at the lace doilies in Morgan's hand.

"They are. And made by an extremely talented local artist." Morgan smiled and calculated the sale in her head. She couldn't wait to tell Agatha.