by Jan Moran
She slipped on her shoes and clasped his outstretched hand. His grip was solid and his hand firm in hers. Calluses at the tips of his fingers from playing the guitar were evidence of his profession. They weren’t rough, just built up over the skin.
He led her to a staircase off the kitchen, and she followed him down old stone steps. The walls and overhead arches were made of dappled gray, hand-hewn stone. As they wound downstairs, the air became cooler. The stone walls changed color and grew rougher, reflecting their older vintage. Fianna smelled the musty odor of earth and aging wine.
When they reached the bottom, Niall flicked on a light that illuminated the stone-lined cellar. Cedarwood racks cradling neatly organized wine bottles ran from floor to ceiling and wove throughout the cave. In the middle of the room, a pair of tasting tables were anchored on an intricate Persian rug, surrounded by Thai silk sofas and jeweled pillows of turquoise, pink, and purple. Tiffany lamps cast rainbows of color across antique Irish crystal glassware. Candelabras sat on low Moroccan inlaid tables. Irish antiques and artwork were placed throughout. She loved the sumptuous fabrics and jewel tones and could just imagine having intimate gatherings here.
“Really impressive,” Fianna said, craning her neck. “Disneyland for wine… Kaitlin was right.”
“Working on the cave brought me a lot of joy during a dark period. I wanted it to look like an Arabian Nights fantasy meets old Celtic lore. Come this way.”
Niall led her farther into the wine cave and stopped beside a rack of older wines. He pulled out a dark glass bottle and blew a fine layer of dust from the label. “These have been here for years. They were included in the sale of the castle. These are quite special. I’d love for you to try this one with me. It’s a rare vintage.” He lifted a wayward strand of hair from her face. “You’re a rare one, too, Fianna. I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”
Fianna felt her face grow warm, and she was glad the light was dim. She inspected the label. It was a fine, twenty-year old Bordeaux. “I’d love to try this with you.”
Niall placed the bottle on a tasting table and perched on a stool. Fianna stepped toward him. He slid his arms along her shoulders, and her heartbeat quickened.
“I have a confession to make, Fianna.”
“What?” She braced herself. In her world, confessions were seldom good. Her mother, Doyle…
Niall took her hand in his. “Ever since the day we met when we barely survived the high tide, you’ve been on my mind like no other.”
A nervous laugh slipped from her and heat rushed up her neck, flushing her face. “Really Niall, do you know how many times I’ve heard that line?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Fianna regretted them. She’d ruined the sweet moment. Her mam’s words reverberated in her ears. Fianna, hold your tongue. Think before you speak. Niall’s gaze dropped to the floor. Had she became so jaded living in L.A.? “I didn’t mean it like that.”
He raised his eyes to her again. “I know the power of words, Fianna. I don’t fling them around like most men.”
Should she tell him her heart hammered every time she thought of him? She hardly knew him. Yet here she was in his home and having tidal waves of feelings she’d never known before.
She brushed another strand of hair from her face. As she did, her hand shook slightly and gave her away. Niall caught her hand and brought it his lips, kissing her fingers. His eyes seemed to bore into her soul. She felt like she could bare her deepest thoughts to this man, and it scared her. Why? Was it the possibility of ultimate rejection? Over the years, she’d built a strong fortress around herself, choosing to focus her energy on her work. She exhaled to steady her nerves. “My mam often called me a smart mouth.”
“You say what you feel. Do you know how hard it is to find people to tell you the truth?”
“I don’t know… in my line of work, everyone’s a critic.”
“Mine, too. But you have to bare your soul to create your best work. And, if you’re lucky enough to make a little money, everyone becomes your friend. Not that I don’t like to help those in need, I do, but some people can take advantage.” He paused a beat. “I don’t think you’re like that at all.”
She started to say something, but he brushed his lips against hers in a feathery kiss. She wanted more, but a smile shadowed his mouth. He picked up a cork screw.
While he opened the bottle, Fianna moistened her lips. She glanced around the cave, and her eyes settled on the silk sofas and pillows. How many women had he entertained down here?
Niall eased the cork from the bottle. “This will need to air.” He grinned and took her hand. “Kaitlin’s waiting for us.”
Fianna started up the steps with him, but cast a longing glance back at the intimate setting. She squeezed his hand. Perhaps they both needed to understand each other first.
18
FIANNA DREAMED THAT rose petals were falling from the sky, the velvety petals caressing her face, their sweet scent swirling around her. In her half-sleep, a smile played on her lips. Niall was sauntering through the rose petal shower, a guitar slung over one shoulder with his thumbs hooked in the belt loop of his blue jeans. Pink petals dotted his longish hair, and mounds of red and yellow petals were strewn about his feet like autumn leaves. This dream had a soundtrack, too. Niall’s rich, sensual voice drew her in. She gathered her arms around his neck and…
The sensation of silky petals on her cheek grew so real that she fluttered her eyes. A burst of salmon pink petals caught her eye. The touch on her skin was real. She drew in a breath of the flower’s fragrant scent. Niall’s mossy, marble green eyes—reflecting the vivid shades of Ireland’s emerald slopes—gazed at her. He stroked a rose along her cheek, softly singing the song he’d sang yesterday at the wedding. “In your eyes…”
He knelt beside her bed. He wore a white cotton poet’s shirt with full sleeves—similar to the one he’d been wearing when she’d first met him. His dark blond hair was brushed back from his forehead and swept the top of his shoulders. His face was tanned, and a smile danced about his lips.
“Good morning, my beautiful, crazy-eyed lady,” he said, softly kissing her forehead.
“Hmm.” She stretched luxuriously in the wide bed. A silky Egyptian cotton ivory duvet covered her; only a bare shoulder peeked from beneath the covers. Niall trailed the rose along her neck to her shoulder, and the sensation filled her with joy. She recalled the whisper of a kiss they’d shared last night and instantly yearned for more.
“Strong Irish tea or American coffee?” he asked.
“I should say tea, since I’m here, but coffee sounds marvelous.” She wiggled her toes under the down comforter and looked around the room. A white brocade sofa was studded with marine blue pillows, and seascape paintings graced the walls. Through a stone flanked wooden window wafted the fresh, salty scent of the sea. Niall’s acoustic guitar leaned against an antique nightstand next to her bed.
“Cream and sugar?”
“Just cream.” She loved the thick cream of Ireland. He turned to leave and she watched him walk toward the door, appreciating his broad muscular shoulders and his narrow jean-clad hips. Height clearly ran in the family, and she’d have no problem wearing her favorite high heels with him. Not that it would have mattered, she reminded herself, but she had to admit it was a nice bonus.
After the wedding, she and Niall and Kaitlin had returned to the castle on Howth. Niall had taken pleasure in showing her around the magnificent structure, which he’d been renovating for several years. It had been quite an undertaking.
Then they had stayed up half the night talking and laughing with Kaitlin over the fine vintage Bordeaux they’d found in the cellar. Listening to Kaitlin’s stories, she’d learned a lot about Niall. He and his sister clearly loved each other and were good friends as well.
She smiled to herself, thinking about the touch of his hand in hers, his lips brushing hers, his fascinated gaze. She was falling fast.
Shorebirds squawked outsi
de the windows, drawing her from her reverie. Her pragmatic side asked, what’s the point? He’s here in Ireland, and you’re in Los Angeles. Where could this possibly go? She blinked against the truth.
“Here you are, one steaming cup.” Niall placed the coffee on the nightstand and handed her a white terry cloth spa-style robe that he’d slung over his shoulder. “Thought you might want this.” He grinned and turned around. “Kaitlin has some things for you to wear. We could go shopping, too. There are boutiques and pubs nearby, and I have a couple of bicycles.”
She slipped into the robe. Her free-spirited side quickly won her over. The sun was shining and the thought of seizing a few days of pleasure with a handsome, talented, intriguing man was too much to pass by. “That sounds like fun.”
Niall left and Kaitlin bounced in with an armload of jeans and T-shirts and tennis shoes. “It’s lucky that we’re about the same size. I tower over my cousins. Both our parents were the tallest in their families, so we came out like giraffes.”
Fianna chuckled, remembering her own adolescence. “I was the skinny, gangly one in the back of all the class photos.”
“Me, too. I grew out of clothes faster than we could buy them.” Kaitlin waggled her arms like an ape.
“But look at you now. You’re using your natural talents.”
Kaitlin sat on the bed and hugged her long legs to her chest. “I don’t know if I want to do it forever, but the money is good right now. My brother would be happy to support me, but I like to make my own way.”
“That’s always wise. My aunt Davina taught me that.”
Kaitlin rocked back and forth while Fianna sipped her coffee. “It’s so cool that Davina is your aunt. And I heard about your show in Dublin from some of the other models. I’m really sorry.”
“Thanks. The police are investigating. It looked like the shoes had been tampered with.”
“Who would do that?” Kaitlin flung up her hands. “My agent tells me to ignore the tabloids, but it’s hard, isn’t it?”
“It is.” Fianna sighed. She hadn’t looked at the trade papers after the initial articles she’d read had skewered her. But evidentially the tabloids were continuing the story, writing about everything from the models to the shoemakers. Back in L.A., her assistant Evangeline had sent several messages about reporters who were trying to reach her. Fortunately, Evangeline shielded her, and no one had her mobile phone number.
“Did you know they’ve put you and Niall together as a hot item?”
“What?” Fianna spilled her coffee on the robe. “Where in the world would they get that?”
“I saw a photo of you and Niall in Malibu, drenching wet and hugging each other. It was kind of grainy, but there was no mistaking you two. Supposedly you’re having a torrid affair.”
“We’d nearly drowned!” Fianna sank her face into her hands. “I’m so embarrassed.”
Kaitlin put her arm around Fianna. “Don’t be. It happens all the time. Niall is accustomed to it. The press used to follow him around like terriers, but they haven’t had much to write about since Laila died.”
Fianna wondered how Laila had died, but she didn’t want to ask. “Does he know about this?”
Kaitlin shook her head. “He ignores them. So they make up things. He was said to be dating a princess and an heiress last year. At the same time. It’s amazing what they can do with Photoshop.”
“None of it was true, I guess.”
“Not a shred. Don’t believe anything you read about him, especially on the Internet. We know who we are, and that’s all that matters. Just ignore the tabloids.” Kaitlin got up to leave. She paused by the door and glanced over her shoulder. “You know, I can tell my brother really likes you.” She grinned and shut the door.
Niall was pumping air into the bike tires when Fianna stepped outside. He let out a low whistle. He’d changed into a T-shirt and hoodie, and he wore dark sunglasses. “Nice outfit. Kaitlin really dressed you up.” He reached out to her.
“Jeans and a T-shirt?”
“I like you in casual clothes. But I like you dressed up, too.” He removed his sunglasses and hung them on the neck of his shirt. He took her hands and kissed her lightly on the lips.
Fianna couldn’t think of when she’d had a more perfect day. They cycled along the ocean, listening to the incessant roar of pounding waves. They climbed high rugged cliffs and gazed out to the wild, white-capped sea below. Niall pointed out different landmarks and shared ancient history and stories that had been passed down through the ages.
After they pedaled into the village, Niall took her to a local boutique run by his caretaker’s sister. Fianna chose some casual jeans and sweaters that were more Lizzie’s style than hers, but they were perfect for the Irish countryside. Niall watched her try on clothes, giving her a thumbs up approval for almost everything she tried on.
They cycled down the pier, surrounded by ocean. Inquisitive spotted seals surfaced, shaking their whiskered noses at them.
Fianna’s stomach rumbled.
“Hungry?” Niall asked.
“Famished.” Fianna laughed. “Either you read my mind or you heard my stomach.” She nodded toward the seals. “I think they want carry-out.”
“They can get their own,” Niall said, grinning. “They’re a friendly bunch of beggars.” He nodded to a restaurant in back of them. “We can eat at Octopussy.” He indicated a small stone-faced restaurant that fronted the ocean.
They parked their bikes and sat at a wooden picnic table in front of the small restaurant. “Their specialty is seafood tapas.” Niall put his arm around her, and Fianna moved closer until their hips and shoulders touched. Just being near him sent chills of excitements through her.
They ordered oysters, crab claws, prawns, mussels, and monkfish with chorizo. They ate hunks of crusty brown bread slathered with butter, a crunchy salad, and washed it all down with a chilled white wine.
As Niall poured the last of the wine into Fianna’s glass, her phone buzzed with a text.
“Do you need to get that?”
“Is there nowhere I can hide for an afternoon?” Groaning, she flicked open her text messages. It was from Scarlett. Call me ASAP. It was early morning in California. Fianna frowned and rubbed her forehead.
Niall touched her arm. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s my friend Scarlett. You met her in Malibu at my show. She’s also my attorney.” Fianna made a face.
He kissed her forehead. “Make the call. I have some friends inside I’ll say hello to.”
He walked away and she tapped Scarlett’s number.
Scarlett’s voice echoed over the Atlantic Ocean. “Fianna, I’m so glad you called. Listen, I received a call from another attorney today about you.”
“Me? Why?” Fianna could hear Scarlett draw a deep breath, but before she could say anything, the phone line clicked several times, and then disconnected. “Hello? Hello?”
She tried over and over to call her back, but the line only buzzed, and then her phone battery went dead. Frustrated, Fianna shoved the phone into her pocket. Why had another attorney contacted Scarlett? Perhaps it was one of the new licensing deals they’d hoped for. Excitement rose within her.
Or was it related to the disastrous Dublin show?
Niall was walking toward her, limping slightly. Her gaze travelled up to his tanned face and windblown hair. He was the kind of man women wanted to be with and men wanted to befriend.
“You look like you need a good massage, and later, a starlit Jacuzzi. At least, I do.” He made a face. “I haven’t ridden a bicycle that far in a long, long time.” He rubbed his thighs through his jeans.
Fianna rolled her shoulders, feeling the ache of muscles she didn’t normally use. “I couldn’t agree more.”
They pedaled through the village back to the castle. The marine wind blew fresh on Fianna’s face, but she couldn’t seem to shake Scarlett’s call. It could be cause for celebration, but something in her gut warned her otherwise
.
She’d call later. Now, a massage awaited her, and she planned to take full advantage of it.
19
NIALL HELD A thick, carved oak door open for Fianna. “I think you’ll like this section of the castle.” He’d built the spa for Laila. After she was gone, it had been a long time before he’d been strong enough to enter and appreciate it again.
When he’d finally managed to return, the exercise and relaxation had helped restore his well-being, though he’d often felt Laila’s presence here. He glanced around. Today he felt nothing, just the joy of being here with Fianna. Had Laila really left him for good?
Fianna’s face lit with pleasure, and he was deeply pleased he could share this with her. He’d asked his houseman to prepare the spa and arrange a masseuse for when they returned. Sure enough, the lights were dimmed and the Jacuzzi was swirling. Aromatherapy oils of eucalyptus and lavender permeated the old stone walls, and palm trees rustled under lazy ceiling fans. A waterfall trickled into the Olympic-sized pool at one end, which led to a private stone grotto.
“It’s absolutely gorgeous,” Fianna said, her voice edged with awe. “I’ve never seen anything like this.” Her eyes traveled up to the glittering mosaic tile ceiling arching overhead. An arched glass-paned atrium opened the entire spa to the gardens and ocean beyond. Another pool stretched outside, too.
Niall rested his hand in the curve of Fianna’s back and followed her gaze. “It was perfect for unwinding after the long concert tours I used to do, and far from the lenses of the paparazzi.”
He motioned to one side. “Over there are massage rooms, a steam sauna, and a cedar-lined dry sauna. Beyond that is an exercise room, a basketball court, and a yoga-and-dance room.”
“This is amazing,” Fianna said. “I might never leave.”
His heart swelled with joy at her words. “Stay as long as you’d like.” He realized he truly meant it. “You’ll find robes and a shower in the ladies locker area. Swimsuits, too, if you’d like a swim. Relax and do whatever you want, or join me in the Jacuzzi.”
