by Dorien Kelly
“We will,” Vi answered, and Liam shot her a glare for the use of “we.” His concept of luxury did not include pampering his pores or getting his nails all shiny.
“Perfect!” Astrid replied. “When you’re ready, you’ll find the spa rooms in the castle’s old quarters. Just head down a floor and follow the west corridor. Vi, maybe when you’re finished, we could take some time to talk about the tapestries?”
Vi nodded. “Of course. I’m looking forward to it.”
Astrid moved toward the hallway. “Well, I’ll leave you two to get settled. Is there anything else you think you might need?”
“Not a thing,” Vi assured her.
The door had scarcely clicked shut before Liam let loose. “I’m to get a facial? What sort of Kilkennyman gets a facial?”
Vi laughed. “Your sort, I’d be saying. And I won’t tell your brothers your dark secret…for a price, that is.”
“And a high one, I’m sure,” Liam said, pulling the wine from its ice bucket. If he was to survive the indignity of a facial, anesthesia would be required.
“Not so very high,” the local witch replied from the bedroom. Liam watched through the curved archway as she slipped off her shoes, then fell backward, arms spread wide, upon the high four-poster bed. Vi gave a sigh that sounded of sheer comfort. “This will do quite grandly for the night.”
He removed the bottle’s foil with a deft cut of the corkscrew, then set to work on the cork. Liam poured a glass for Vi and one for himself, then joined her in the bedroom.
“Wine?” he asked.
She sat upright and held out her hand.
Liam shook his head. “First, about this not so very high price you’ll be charging?”
Her warm smile was the sort of enticement that had lured men to their dooms. “A full night in a bed with you, of course.”
Doing his best to summon a put-upon expression, Liam handed her the glass. “I suppose I’ll suffer through.”
“I’m sure you will,” she said tartly. After taking a sip of wine, she placed the glass on the nightstand to her left, then patted the mattress. “Join me?”
He knew that if he did, they’d never arrive for their facial appointments, which was no sacrifice at all. However, neither would they get straight their plans.
“I think we need to talk about tonight, first.”
She laughed. “And here I thought we just had.”
Liam put his wine glass on the nightstand by Vi’s, pulled out his map, and then sat on the edge of the bed.
“I had Tadgh draw this,” he said, showing it to her. “While working, he and his mates used to explore the passageways in this part of the castle. I want us to walk them tonight, as according to my late grandda, at least some of the gold might be hidden there.”
She arched a fine red brow at him. “You’ve been talking to your grandda from the beyond? Keep that up and you’ll be making me redundant.”
He smiled. “It’s a job I’ll leave for you. Actually, Da was telling me about it the night we returned from Dublin.”
Vi nodded. “I think your da’s got the right of it, too. At least a hundred years ago, the gold was there.”
Now there was news to savor. “You know this for certain?”
“Be right back,” she said, then slipped past him and walked to her bag, which Liam had left in the sitting room.
As she departed, Liam enjoyed the view. Vi walked like a warrior, straight and bold. To him, that gait was more arousing than the hip-wiggling shimmies favored by a few women he’d dated. They’d worked too bloody hard at being sexy. Vi simply was.
She returned and dropped her bag on the end of the bed, then began digging though it. Finally she settled next to him, offering a scrap of paper that had obviously been torn from a notepad.
“And this is?” he asked.
“Hand me your map,” she said.
He did so, and she scanned it.
“Ah! Just as I’d hoped.” She held both pieces of paper so they could look together. “See? That odd turn in the passageway Tadgh drew matches my sketch. And I copied this from something I saw in my great-grandmother’s journal…you know, the one who worked here as a servant?”
“A fine coincidence,” he agreed, feeling his interest begin to wake.
“The drawing was titled ‘The Guardian,’ which struck me as strange, considering it’s nothing more than lines and sharp angles.”
“Even better,” he said.
“And the design stitched on the journal’s cover exactly matched the wax cast we saw in Dublin.”
“Sold,” Liam announced.
“As was I.” She handed him the sketches and returned to her bag. While she searched though it, Liam turned the papers about, confirming that the drawings did indeed match. It seemed that the passageway exited from a ground floor room that his brother-in-law had marked as a library.
“I’ve brought these,” Vi said, pulling out two battery-powered lights.
He stood and gathered his bag, then pulled out the two lights he’d packed. “Great minds,” he said to Vi, “frequently think alike.”
At half-one in the morning, Vi had put aside any consideration of how great her mind might be. And as for Liam’s mind, the way he was now wandering the O’Gormans’ library, she was growing convinced that he’d misplaced it.
They had both been here before. In fact she’d happily lost her virginity here. It was a far finer room now than it had been then, complete with a locking door. True, the view to the King’s River was presently obscured by drapes and nighttime, but the interior walls were uncharred and thick with books.
“The floor looks more comfortable,” Vi said softly, so as not to disturb anyone else who might be skulking about, though she had her doubts that anyone would be. The group had eaten endlessly, drunk even more, then finally wandered to their rooms.
Liam, who was feeling his way along the paneling, glanced her way. “More comfortable than what?”
Had he not made the connection? It took a moment for Vi to get past that unsettling thought. “Why, the last time you had me here.”
“Had you? How?”
She caught his smile as he gave up his search and came her way. It was then she realized that he was playing her as finely as his sister did the fiddle.
“Shame on you, Violet,” Liam said, now beside her. “Did you truly think I’d forget?”
She punched him on the arm as much for the Violet as for scaring her so.
A kind man, he feigned pain. “Let’s leave me both arms working, at least until we’re through searching,” he said.
Then Liam pulled Tadgh’s map from the pocket of his denims and frowned at it for an instant. With a decisive nod, he walked to a bookshelf adjacent to the room’s fireplace. “If Tadgh drew true, the hidden door should be right…about…here.”
He worked his fingers into an indentation between the built-in bookcase and what looked to be solid paneling. A latch clicked and a narrow door sprung open.
“It looks nasty in here. You can wait,” he said. “I’ll be back in a heartbeat.”
Vi peered into the darkness. Compared to some of the places she’d lived in her day, this was none too bad.
“You’re not leaving me behind,” she said.
“Just trying to be chivalrous,” he replied.
“Castle or not, in this case chivalry is dead.”
Liam gave a resigned sigh. He pulled out one of the two flashlights he’d tucked into the waist of his denims and handed it to her. Vi switched it on before tugging shut the small door to the outside world. Now they were stooped over in a dark, stone-walled corridor built for souls half her size and she was beginning to wonder if she might have a touch of claustrophobia. Not that it would matter, for she was determined to see this through.
“We’ll head right,” Liam said, and so they did with their flashlights trained downward. Vi spotted a small pile of empty wine bottles coated thick with dust. She wondered if it had been one of
her ancestors in here, drinking filched Dunhill wine. She surely hoped so.
The further along they headed, the more the ground grew thick with rubble. Some seemed to be leftover bits of stone, whether from this renovation or an earlier one, she’d never know. Dirt was dirt and it all looked old to her. She shone her light upward. Cobwebs hung thick, and her nose began to itch at the sight of them. She rubbed at it, hoping to ward off the sneeze that was beginning to make itself known.
Twice they passed what were obviously other entries into the passageway. Liam paused at a third, then looked back her way. Even without light, Vi knew he was grinning, for the sounds coming from the other side of the doorway were unmistakably those of passion.
“More, Hank!” Astrid cried.
“Love match,” Liam murmured and then walked on.
Soon they came to a T in the corridor. Liam paused and shone his light on the map, then turned left.
Vi hesitated. “I’m sure it’s right we want to head.”
“No, if we’re to follow the map, it’s left.”
“Wait,” she said, then heard the rustling of paper as Liam again pulled the map.
Vi peeked around him and bit back a groan. A well-fed woman with pampered skin shouldn’t be in a position such as this. She reached forward with one hand and took the map. While shining her light on it, she whispered, “You’ve got it upside-down,” then handed it back to him.
He peered at it a moment and then gave a subdued “Oh, right, then.”
“And you’re the grand adventurer, eh?”
“In the water,” he replied. “Where I’ve little need for maps. Or redheads.”
Vi ignored his complaint, for she knew they were both impatient and tired. It seemed they wouldn’t have much longer to wait, though, for they had reached the sharply angled passageway depicted on her great-grandmother’s drawing. And unless she’d been toying with her progeny, there should be a small chamber at the end of it.
“It’s looking right to me,” Liam whispered. “Though tight.”
Vi moved until she was pressed against his back and aimed her flashlight the way he was looking. A small part of her—likely the same part that had experienced a brief and poorly timed thrill upon hearing the O’Gormans—relished this contact. Wrong time and place, but he still felt like a corner of paradise. Vi refocused, something she admittedly had little practice in doing.
The corridor they would next take was taller than the one they were in, but little more than a cut in the wall in width. Judging by the thick curtains of dust and cobwebs hanging from the entry, it hadn’t been traveled in years. Liam moved sideways, back against the wall, and Vi did the same, thankful he was to take out the worst of the webbings.
The going was slow as the space grew narrower and narrower. Vi found herself holding her breath even when she knew that slight difference wouldn’t ease her way.
“Stop,” Liam said, then handed her his light. She angled it along with the one she already had to cover the greatest amount of wall possible. To Vi, it looked an unrelieved grey, with even the lines between the individual blocks of stone nearly indistinguishable.
“I’m not seeing anything,” he said. “Hand me the lights and you try.”
She did as he asked, then lay her palms against the wall, inching them across the stones’ cool surface. Slowly, deeply she breathed, opening herself to whatever might be wanting to reach her…besides more dust motes.
“Are you feeling anything?” Liam asked in a hushed tone.
“Cross,” she replied. “And tired and dirty.”
“I meant anything from the wall.”
He must have caught the look she sent him, for he added, “You know what I mean. I watched the game you played with the gold in Dublin. You were feeling something then and it will do you no good to deny it.”
“I’m not denying it. This sense I get isn’t something I can turn on like water from a tap,” she said. “Even in the best of times—and this is not one of them—it comes when I don’t want it and hides when I do.”
“Try the other wall,” Liam said, apparently undeterred by her ill attitude.
The two of them performed an odd dance, inching their way in a half-circle till they were facing the opposite wall. Again, Vi quelled the pleasure of his touch as he brushed against her in the tight confines.
Just inches in front of her, Liam swept the flashlight the length of the wall. Vi drew a sharp breath when the yellowish glow passed over a shadowed spot nearly mid-shin down the wall.
“You won’t be needing my brand of sight,” she said to Liam. “Look down.”
“Damn me,” he said, sounding awed. “It’s real.”
“Real as the dirt down my shirt,” she said, earning a chuckle from Liam.
“This is it, my fire,” he said to her. “Ready?”
She aimed one of the lights into his face. “Don’t bloody tease. Just do it.”
He grinned. “I’ve heard that before.”
It was grand that his good nature was returning, but he needed the same reminder regarding setting and physical impossibility that she was giving herself. No matter, though. Excitement over both intimacy and discovery had her breathing enough dust that her nose was beginning to grow stuffy.
“Now, Liam.”
“Right.”
Reaching down that low in their narrow confines was no easy task. Vi finally backed up and Liam lay out flat on the grimy floor.
“Lower,” he directed as she tried to aim her light for the niche in the wall. “Perfect.”
Vi’s heartbeat slammed in her ears as Liam sent his hand venturing forth. She closed her eyes, praying that they would find the gold, even though she knew the finding would bring consequences of its own.
“Hand down a flashlight.”
Vi did, and seconds later Liam muttered an obscenity followed by one bleak word: “Empty.”
God, how she was growing to hate that word.
Hope was quite possibly the most dangerous emotion a man could have. Furious that he’d let himself believe that tonight, treasure would be his, and he could grab back his life, Liam followed Vi through the passageway and back into the O’Gormans’ library.
“That was a bloody waste,” he said to Vi once he’d closed the door on his failure.
“At least we know where the gold is not,” she replied while dusting off her clothing.
“Right. Not in the passageway and not in my pockets.” Liam brushed ancient grime and grit from his shoulders. He hated feeling this way, filled with a frustration so brutally sharp that he burned to lash out and release it. It felt as though the gold had been stolen from him as neatly as Alex had thieved his livelihood.
Vi came closer. “You’ve cobwebs in your hair.”
She raised a hand to free them. He flinched when she touched him, then muttered a “sorry.” His anger—though God knew not at her—demanded settling.
Liam glanced around the room in search of a cut crystal decanter of drink. Surely a library this well appointed would have one? It did not, and he was ready to explode.
“I wish it had turned out better,” Vi said in a voice so kind that he felt a worse bastard for being in such a foul mood. Yet everything in life he’d worked to achieve was escaping and he was helpless to stop it.
She moved closer, and of its own volition his hand rose to rub a dirt smudge from the soft skin of her cheek. He’d never thought himself an especially tender man, but with Vi, it was hard not to be…even when dismally bitter.
He kissed her and found it a balm better than whiskey. At least the anger was receding, even if frustration seemed a permanent guest.
“What a hell of a night,” Liam said, drawing Vi into his arms. He closed his eyes and focused on the one person who could know how he felt.
Vi must have been doing the same for in a matter of moments she had brought her mouth to his and then nipped at his lower lip until he opened to her. Her tongue swept in. In just a few pounding heartbeats, hung
er owned him.
They kissed until nearly breathless, then she drew back. “That helps matters,” she said, her mouth still close to his.
Liam glanced around the room, seeking something—anything—to focus on until he could get his need back under control, but his gaze kept settling on one tempting place.
“So do you think it was around there?” he asked, pointing to a spot now between two fat armchairs.
He could tell by the heat shining in her green eyes that she knew what he was speaking of…the first place they’d made love. He’d teased her earlier, but he’d never forgotten. And on nights like this one was proving to be—when luck was faithless—he would remember her passion, her laughter, and the way she’d given herself to him. She had been his most perfect gift ever.
Vi gave a considering look, as though measuring from the window to the place between the armchairs. “That seems about the spot.”
Liam took her by the hand and brought her there, then nudged the chairs farther apart. They fit so neatly, standing there. Almost as if what he was considering next had been fated to happen.
“I’m feeling nearly sentimental. Would you kiss me again, Vi?”
One kiss was not an unreasonable request, and she consented. What was unreasonable was his body’s response to hers. The need to possess, to have something good to take forward from this night, was too strong to deny.
He slipped his hand beneath the fabric of her top, seeking the warmth of her skin. Ah, this was what he needed. She was real—his to touch, his to kiss, and he planned to do it all. Vi’s smart hands were equally busy, working the buttons down the front of his shirt. He voiced his pleasure in a low moan as she caressed him, too.
Soon, it wasn’t enough. Liam stopped kissing just long enough to tug her top over her head and then unhook her pretty black bra and slip it from her, too. Whether it was the location they’d chosen—with both its aura of nostalgia and the danger of discovery—or the fact that frustration had transmuted to fire, Liam felt randy and ready as a twenty-year-old.
He kissed Vi’s throat and grew impossibly harder at the feel of her pulse pounding beneath his mouth. His tasted her breasts, suckled her nipples, told her how exquisite she was.
