by Deb Stover
Bridget's sharp gasp drew Riley's gaze. She didn't find the accusation and suspicion there she'd expected. Instead, his green eyes reflected confusion and the heat of desire. Well, they had both in common, and neither of them bothered to correct Mr. Kelley.
Warmth insinuated itself between her legs and spread from there. The sight of him at this castle made her ache all over again. Yes, craving was the perfect word to describe what she felt for Riley.
"My crew will go in first with an industrial vacuum that will remove enough dust to allow us to examine surfaces more thoroughly," Mr. Kelley said, withdrawing a note pad and pencil, and jarring Bridget back to the present. He handed hard hats to both Riley and Bridget, and donned one himself. His wild hair poked out from beneath the sides and back. "We'll follow a few minutes later."
Riley grunted acknowledgment and Bridget merely nodded. Their lack of outward enthusiasm must have confused Mr. Kelley. Considering how important this day was to Bridget, she should've been jumping up and down with anticipation.
Oh, she was jumping up and down on the inside. With total confusion. How could she want Riley so much and not... love him? She'd loved Culley with all her heart, so the wanting had come naturally. In fact, Culley and Riley were the only men who'd ever aroused her sexually.
Did that mean...
No. She couldn't be in love with Riley. The thought made her mouth go dry and her hands tremble as she watched the crew use crowbars to pry open the massive double doors. The iron hinges groaned and squeaked in protest, and Mr. Kelley jotted several notes.
Her future was at stake, and maybe Jacob's. She needed money and some security, though at least her fear that Riley might steal her son had eased. Still, she was a single mother with a child to raise and no income. Even with the family farm, which Fiona insisted was part hers and Jacob's, Bridget still needed to pull her own weight.
She'd worked hard her whole life and it felt strange not to have a job to go to each day, and money of her own to spend on Jacob's new shoes. Still, she loved keeping house alongside Fiona, but it just wasn't the same. Mulligan Stew would belong to Bridget. At least, for the most part...
Besides, she needed this for herself. Not just the money, but the feeling of self worth and accomplishment it could bring. She'd also learned through the years that independence was a very good thing. She didn't want to be beholden to the Mulligans or anyone.
Squaring her shoulders, she focused on that and forced thoughts of Riley and sex and love far to the back of her mind. She hoped.
Love. Forget that, Bridget. Just forget it. So she lied to herself and concentrated on the present. This was her castle. Her future. She smiled as the men filed inside with ladders and flashlights, ropes and various tools. The sound of the vacuum Mr. Kelley had mentioned roared to life, echoing from inside.
After what seemed like an hour, the noise ceased.
"Shall we?" Mr. Kelley asked, indicating that they could enter through the open doors.
Riley stood frozen, staring at the gaping chasm. Bridget sensed his fear and touched his arm. Touching him felt so good. So right. She had to fight against the urge to put her arms around him and pull him to her.
"It's all right, Riley," she said quietly. Mr. Kelley had gone on ahead. "Let's go."
He met her gaze and she saw his Adam's apple work up and down the length of his throat. Finally, he nodded and took a few steps toward the entrance. He stopped part-way and looked over his shoulder, holding his hand out toward her.
Bridget's heart skipped a beat and she couldn't breathe, let alone walk, for several seconds. Wrestling her resolve into place, she joined Riley and slipped her small hand into his large one. She met his gaze and found intensity, heat, and confusion waging a fierce battle there as they must have been in her own eyes.
"Promise me something," she said, her voice shaky.
"What?"
"Don't touch anything while you're touching me."
He gave her a cock-eyed grin and a nod, but his eyes told her that he remembered every delicious and terrifying detail of what had transpired—and almost transpired—between them the other evening.
"We're standing on part of it now, Bridget," he reminded her, glancing down at their joined hands. "And I'm touching you."
Touching him—especially here—was dangerous. But it also seemed right. She drew comfort from the feel of his strong hand holding hers as they took a few more steps and entered Caisleán Dubh.
Like a song, the whispers swirled around them. They both stood still as the castle serenaded them. Welcomed them.
"Like a bloody doorbell," Riley whispered.
Confused, Bridget shook her head, then realized what he'd meant and laughed. Her laughter sounded nervous, but that made perfect sense, too. She met his gaze again and his crooked smile gave him a softer, more youthful appearance than the scowl he usually wore. His smile crawled inside her and lit a steady, warm glow in her heart, far different from the fiery longing in her loins.
Mr. Kelley was talking and taking notes. "I suppose we should pay attention," Riley murmured.
Oh, she was paying attention, but to Riley. To how much he'd changed. Why?
"Don't you..." She bit her lower lip as Riley paused and leaned his head closer to hear her. "Don't you believe in the curse anymore?"
He stared at her for several silent seconds. "Aye. Or something."
Now that was definitely different.
"Let's have us a look around now that there's some light," he said, surprising her again.
Bridget blinked and turned her attention to the main chamber she'd visited twice before, but in darkness. Sea air poured in from behind them, filling the room with its freshness. Dust motes danced in the daylight flooding the dark, once-forbidden room.
Mr. Kelley had paused several feet in front of them, and had his flashlight aimed at the huge portrait over the massive hearth. "There be magic here," the inspector said with complete sincerity.
"Aye," Riley said reverently.
"Oh, yes," Bridget agreed, amazed that Riley had agreed with Mr. Kelley. "There's magic here." She looked at Riley again. "Or something."
Just don't touch the doggone banister.
Mr. Kelley followed his men around, taking notes, measurements, and giving orders. He was a man who was passionate about his work. That became increasingly evident by how careful and insistent he was to leave everything as they'd found it. Only the dust and the bats were disturbed, and the latter sought refuge high in the dark tower, away from the sunlight flooding the main chamber.
"It's... it's beautiful." Bridget paused before the hearth, again drawn to the portrait. Mr. Kelley had moved to the back of the chamber with his crew. Gazing up at the painting, she asked, "Who is he?"
Riley released her hand and stepped onto the hearth to examine the massive portrait more closely. "Aye, as I suspected," he said after wiping dust away from an engraved plate on the bottom center of the frame. "'Tis himself—Aidan Mulligan."
Aidan. Bridget remembered the story Maggie had told her. "The curse started with him," she said.
Riley looked at her sharply, his brows drawn together. "How would you be knowing that?"
"Um..." Bridget lifted one shoulder. "Maggie told me, because I asked."
"Aye, she knows the tale as all Mulligans do." He stood back and rubbed his chin, turning to admire the portrait again. "Who knows? Maybe the story will change before it's passed on to young Jacob."
Bridget's heart did a handspring. Something had definitely changed. Something significant. Big. She swallowed hard, vowing to restrain her urge to ask him outright. Their relationship had been hostile at first, then barely polite, and now...
Almost friendly.
Well, except for them having the hots for each other. That was more than friendly. Much more...
Bridget's face flooded with liquid fire and she turned her attention back to Aidan's portrait. She barely made out his features through centuries of grime. "I wonder if it can be
restored, too?"
"The portrait?" Riley stared up at his ancestor, his expression unfathomable. "We'll see."
At least he wasn't outright denying her the chance. She had hope. Mulligan Stew could become a reality yet. Hope insinuated itself in her heart and stayed.
"I'd like to follow Mr. Keen and his crew into the other rooms," she said, almost as a question. She didn't want to anger Riley now—not while she was so close. However, she would go with or without his permission.
"Aye." He sighed. "We're here, so we might as well see what we can."
The castle's whispering faded and increased haphazardly. The only times Bridget was certain it always grew louder were when she and Riley had first entered the castle, while they were near the portrait of Aidan Mulligan, and—especially—near the banister. Other times, it seemed to come and go.
"The structure seems sound," Riley admitted. "And solid."
"Oh, yes." Anticipation buzzed through her. The castle was even more perfect for her plans than she'd hoped. She heard the crew shouting information and measurements to Mr. Keen. She no longer felt the need to shadow the crew. She knew Caisleán Dubh would pass its inspection.
"Tell me, Bridget," Riley said as they made their way toward the back of the main room, "how do you envision using this particular room?"
She bit her lower lip, afraid to think in much detail, but unable to prevent it. "At first, as a great dining room. The floor is marble, I think."
"Aye." Riley brushed some dust aside with his boot. "White, once upon a time. And I believe the columns are all marble, too."
"Picture it with massive tables, and vines growing around the columns. Very romantic." Bridget saw it all so clearly. "The tables will be of dark, gleaming wood. I'll use brocaded table runners to complement the heavy draperies that will hang at the tall, arched windows." She walked over to one of the windows, amazed to find it unbroken. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of them all.
She looked out at the sea, sparkling below the cliff. "On second thought, no curtains. None at all. And everything should be light, except the wood. Lace. I see lace. Irish lace, I think."
She felt Riley come up behind her, his warmth radiating through her and producing a shiver of anticipation. An image flashed through her mind unbidden. She saw herself standing before this very window with her dream lover at her back, his arms wrapped around her waist. She wore a thin white nightgown, and he wore... the usual.
"Oh, have mercy." She could almost feel his arms around her waist now, but when she glanced down, there were no masculine hands splayed intimately across her abdomen, just beneath her breasts.
She didn't want her dream lover's hands now.
She wanted Riley's.
A wave of dizziness washed over her and she dragged in a great breath of air and spun around. Riley stood so close she bumped against him, and she saw desire smoldering in his eyes again. Had he shared the thoughts she'd just experienced? Had he seen—and felt—as she had?
The thought took root and wouldn't budge, though she wasn't about to ask him if it was true. Not now.
"I'll need a kitchen," she whispered. "Maybe that room yonder, where Mr. Kelley's crew is working now."
"Let's go have a look."
Bridget walked alongside Riley, past the hearth and Aidan's portrait, past the staircase and that dangerous banister. She struggled against the urge to reach for his hand every step of the way. Despite that, it felt perfect to stroll across this massive room at his side.
Other images of being in her dream lover's arms flitted mercilessly across her mind as she passed through certain areas or pieces of furniture. A large window seat near the back of the room brought a particularly powerful jolt to her and she almost stumbled.
Her dream lover sat there, leaning against the window frame, with her astride him. They were both naked as he devoured her breasts. His erection brushed against her nakedness, seeking entrance.
Entrance she wanted more than anything to grant.
She tripped again and Riley reached out to grab her arm, steadying her. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly, his voice huskier than usual.
As she nodded and gazed into his eyes, she saw the truth she'd known yet had fought to deny.
Riley was her dream lover.
* * *
Several times as they drifted along behind the inspection team, Riley was assaulted by a powerful sense of déjà vu. Though he'd never ventured any farther into the castle than the main chamber, it all seemed familiar. He even recognized alcoves and carvings.
Was Brady's theory true? Was he Aidan? He glanced askance at Bridget. Or Bronagh...?
Jaysus. Riley could no longer deny the possibility, though he'd certainly tried. As they passed by the window near the doorway to the room Bridget wanted to use as a kitchen, an image struck that nearly felled him on the spot. He saw himself there with a beautiful, naked woman. Her slender back was to him, and her hair tumbled about her shoulders in shining brown waves. She straddled him.
Jaysus, Mary, and Joseph!
His breath came in short, rapid pants and he actually felt her moist heat sliding against him. Teasing. Promising. Her breasts filled his hands and he sampled them with gusto. She was sweet. So sweet...
"Riley?" Bridget asked, touching his arm.
He jerked, forcing himself to focus on her face. On the present. On reality.
"I..." He adjusted the hard hat and cleared his throat, trying to ignore his sudden and powerful erection. Shite. He'd been hard more in the past few weeks than he had in his entire life.
And the cause of most of his pain stood right before him, an expression of concern in her dewy green eyes. Her moist lips were slightly parted, and the urge to pull her against him and cover her mouth nearly made him do so before he drew his next breath.
Down, Mulligan. Easy.
"Let's go see this room." She walked away from him.
Riley stood frozen, admiring the way her soft, familiar brown hair swept her shoulders. She wore a blue knit shirt tucked into her jeans, and her shoulders tapered neatly to her tiny waist.
Just like his dream woman...
"Riley?" She stopped at the entrance to the other room and waited.
He shook himself and released his breath in a loud whoosh. With hurried steps, he passed the window seat and joined her beneath the archway.
Her expression as she gazed up at him stole his breath. She had a question in her eyes, and he sensed there was something she wanted to say or ask, but didn't.
"Interesting... window seat," she murmured, a strained quality to her voice.
He cleared his throat again. "Aye, you could say that."
Had she seen it? Felt it? Been there with him...?
Oh, Brady—find the answers, man. His old teacher had planted the seeds to this madness, and Riley was suffering the consequences.
"Let's go on," he said, touching the small of her back to guide her into the other room.
He wanted to do so much more—to drag her hard against him, to taste every inch of her.
Stop that now.
The crew had opened the shutters covering the massive windows. The ceiling was lower in this room, but it all seemed solid and safe.
Mr. Kelley beamed as he joined them. "Isn't it amazing?" He shook his head, staring up at the ceiling and the massive columns. "I've never visited a site that's been vacant so long and is this well-preserved."
"Aye, it seems sound enough," Riley said, his heart slamming against his ribs.
"With electricity, cupboards, a stove here, a freezer and refrigerator there, it will be perfect," Bridget said, turning in a complete circle as she spoke. "My kitchen."
Mr. Keen asked. "The Irish Trust has grant monies available for certain types of renovation."
Bridget's eyes grew round. "Really?"
Riley kept his gob shut, though the part of him who'd bullied everybody about staying out of Caisleán Dubh wanted to surface again with a vengeance. He had to get h
is mind around this entire notion of allowing Bridget to actually open and use the place.
But was it his right to forbid it? Really? Somehow, the situation—the castle's future—seemed much bigger, much more important than either Riley or Bridget.
"What are your plans, Mrs. Mulligan?" Mr. Keen asked.
"At first, I want to open a restaurant," Bridget explained. "Later, if the entire castle is found habitable, I'd like to open a bed and breakfast."
Mr. Kelley nodded, and made more notes. "As long as a historic site is open to the public at least thirty days each year—"
"Oh, I'm thinking more like five or six days a week," Bridget said, laughing.
"Good. In that case, there might very well be a way to renovate Caisleán Dubh through a grant."
"A grant? Oh, did you hear him, Riley?" Bridget clasped her hands together, but released them just as quickly to grab Riley by the shoulders and jump up and down a wee bit. "A grant."
Riley was rotten. While she jumped up and down with excitement about her restaurant, all he could do was stare at her nice, round breasts. The knit shirt boasted a University of Tennessee logo, but the pattern couldn't hide her taut nipples from his roving eyes.
Aye, you're rotten to the core, Mulligan.
"I have some information with me," Mr. Kelley said, interrupting Riley's musings. "I'll leave it and the applications with you."
"Thank you." Bridget released Riley and hugged Mr. Kelley.
Jealousy exploded through Riley, but he clenched his fists to prevent his urge to physically drag Bridget away from the man. She was just showing her gratitude, after all.
Couldn't he do with a bit more of her gratitude himself?
They made their way back out to the main chamber and examined the other ground floor rooms. Mr. Kelley forbade them to accompany his crew up the stairs and into the tower. Amazingly, Bridget didn't argue with the man.
As they waited in the main chamber, Bridget went through more of her thoughts on renovation, and how the restaurant would look. Suddenly, she stopped and a look of tenderness filled her eyes.
"What is it?" he asked. "What's wrong?"
"I was just remembering what Maggie told me." She bit her lower lip. "I've been so excited and carrying on, that I forgot what you must be going through."
