A Woman's Heart

by JoAnn Ross

  The way he’d opened her bra with such a clever deft touch reminded Nora yet again exactly how much more practice he’d had at this, and yet again she fretted that she’d prove a disappointment to Quinn. But then his mouth was on her breast and all her worries fled, blown away by the hot winds of desire.

  “You’re going to have to tell me what you like, love,” he murmured as his tongue soothed the tingling flesh. “This first time.”

  “I don’t know.” Her eyes remained closed, her long lashes, which he suspected had never known mascara, looking like threads of gilt silk against her cheeks.

  “We’ll take it one step at a time, then.” His tongue drew slow wet lazy circles around her breast from the tip outward. “Do you like this?”

  “Oh…aye.” Nora felt herself opening to him, like a flower unfolding its petals to the warmth of the morning sun.

  “Good. Let’s try the other one.”

  His mouth, his hands, somehow managed to be both tender and rough at the same time. When his sucking caused a corresponding tug deep in her womb, a warmth that spiraled outward, all the way to her fingers and toes, needs rose again, so strong and insistent Nora thought she might go mad with the wanting.

  No longer passive, nor pliant, she strained against him in a mute desperate plea for relief. She would have begged, had she been capable of coherent speech, which she wasn’t, but fortunately that proved unnecessary as he whipped off her panties and cupped her heat.

  It was wonderful. Terrifying. Thrilling. He showed her what passion could be, found secret points of pleasure Nora had never even known existed.

  When he dug his fingers into her hips and lifted her against his mouth, she was shocked and suffused with momentary shame, tried to close her legs and pull away. But Quinn was relentless, holding her tight, feasting on her as if she were succulent ripe fruit. Guilt proved brief, washed away by rising desire that pounded inside her like a tidal wave.

  His tongue stabbed into her dewy feminine cleft; his teeth nibbled at tingling flesh. Nora moaned from the ache, gasped from the forbidden pleasure. Her breath had clogged in her throat, and when she tried to catch it to cry his name, she couldn’t.

  Just when she was certain she would surely drown in such swirling heated depths of feeling, her body convulsed and she was swept away on the dizzying crest of a turbulent tide.

  Watching the uncensored passion move across her face, Quinn found himself wishing that they could just stay here hidden away in this room forever.

  That idea sent shock waves ripping through him, so strong that for a fleeting second he wondered if another bomb had gone off nearby. He’d never been a man to think about staying in one place, being tied down to one woman. He’d been emotionally on his own all of his life, and that was the way he liked it.

  But dear Lord, she was so incredibly unbelievably sweet. Unable to concentrate on any tomorrows when his body was so caught up in the grips of today, after stripping off his clothes and putting on the condom he was never without—no bastards or shotgun marriages for Quinn Gallagher—he lowered his body over hers and felt the sizzle of hot flesh against flesh.

  “Nora.” He brushed her tousled hair back from her face. “Look at me, sweetheart.” He touched his lips softly to hers. “I want to see your eyes.” He wanted to watch the flare of passion when he took her over the edge.

  She made an inarticulate sound. As if rousing from hypnosis, she slowly lifted her lids, her eyes glowing like rich green meadows shimmering beneath the sun after an afternoon rain. She was at this moment the most heart-wrenchingly beautiful woman he’d ever known. And she was his.

  Quinn nearly froze at the power of the possessiveness he was feeling. But then she smiled at him, a soft sweet smile, and it took his breath away and clouded his mind.

  He linked his fingers with hers in what was, oddly, the most intimate gesture of the night. Fighting the urge to thrust into her, he eased his tip into her silky heat and felt her tense again.

  “Just relax, sweetheart.” Sweat beaded his burning flesh. Every muscle in his body was quivering from the strain of holding himself back. “I promise not to hurt you.”

  “But you’re too—”

  “Shh. It’s going to be all right, Nora. Just relax, baby.” His lips plucked at hers, soothing, enticing, as he ruthlessly checked his passion. “It’s going to be so good.”

  “Oh, aye,” she breathed as her body began to adjust to accommodate him.

  “That’s my girl. Lord, you feel good, sweetheart.” He began to fill her. Slowly. Inch by throbbing inch. “You’re so tight. So warm.” He rubbed his cheek against hers. “So wonderful.”

  She gasped when he plunged the rest of the way into her. Then she sighed, a soft shimmering breath of sheer pleasure. With his eyes on hers, he began to move, slowly at first, then faster, his thrusts hot and driving.

  The sounds of the traffic from the street below faded away, replaced by the thunder of pounding hearts. And although he couldn’t understand the Irish words Nora was whispering in his ear, her meaning, as her hands stroked his sweat-slick back and cupped his buttocks, pulling him deeper inside her, were all too clear.

  Responding to instincts as ancient as her mystical homeland, Nora matched his driving rhythm as he took her higher and higher, to where the air seemed to sparkle with a diamond-bright brilliance.

  Nora tumbled first, calling out his name as she flew over the edge. Seconds later, fingers linked, his mouth on hers, Quinn took the fall.

  Magic. As he lay on his back looking down at a sleeping Nora in the pink, pearly predawn light, Quinn decided that was the only word that could possibly describe the night they’d just spent together.

  As good as the first time had been, the second had been even better. Once he’d managed to overcome her initial physical shyness, she’d turned incredibly responsive, surprising herself, he thought, with her ability to experience passion. Surprising him not at all with her generosity in returning it.

  It should have been enough, Quinn thought. At least for one night. Especially after the grueling day they’d had. But he’d found himself waking up sometime around four and wanting her all over again.

  It had only taken the touch of his mouth on her lips to awaken her. The touch of a palm to a breast to bring her to full arousal. She’d been as wet and willing as he’d been hot and hard, and Quinn knew if he lived to be a hundred, he’d never forget the sight of her pale skin gleaming like pearls in the moonlight as they’d rolled over the bed.

  Now she was curled against him like a kitten, her fiery hair spread across his chest. There was none of the wanton who’d bucked like a wild horse beneath him, no sign of the woman whose cries of pleasure he’d captured beneath his mouth. She looked as pure as a vestal virgin, reminding Quinn that it had been that enticing blend of innocence and sensuality that had attracted him to her in the first place.

  And while his first response had been sheer lust, things had changed between them. First had come admiration and respect. Then affection. And now…

  What? Quinn was shaken by how appealing the fantasy of staying right here amidst these tangled sheets with Nora for the rest of his life was.

  She murmured something inarticulate in her sleep. Then smiled. When she pressed her mouth against his bare chest, his penis instantly responded, hardening to granite.

  The woman had him thinking foolish thoughts. Impossible thoughts. It was only sex, he reminded himself as hunger pooled hot and heavy again in his groin. Friendly sex, maybe. But that was all it was. That was all he would allow it to be.

  As if his thoughts had infiltrated her sleeping mind, Nora’s eyes fluttered open and she smiled up at him. “Good morning.”

  “Morning.” Because the warmth of that uncensored smile pulled dangerous cords, he made his tone inappropriately gruff, and his expression returned to its earlier scowl.

  A more cautious woman would have heeded the warning. But having shed the last of her caution in the arms of this man, Nora
refused to let him ruin the gilt-edged pleasure that lingered from their magical night together.

  She brought her hand to his cheek, ignored the tensed muscle there and stroked her fingers downward to circle his grimly set lips. “You lied.”

  “About what?”

  “You told me not to expect pretty words. But unless this room is haunted, it must have been you telling me all those wonderful things last night.” She paused, then, “Unless you didn’t mean them?”

  Quinn swore as he watched the anxiety chase away the joy in her lovely eyes. You really are a bastard, Gallagher. In an attempt to protect his own heart he’d been unreasonably cruel. He’d acted like his son-of-a-bitch father would have undoubtedly behaved under similar circumstances.

  “Of course I did.” He dragged his hand down his face and reminded himself he’d known from the beginning that getting involved with this woman would prove to be trouble. But such delicious trouble, he considered, remembering the taste of those sweet, succulent lips.

  “I’d never lie to you, Nora. I meant every word.” He stroked her shoulders in a gesture meant to soothe, even as the touch of her silken skin aroused the hell out of him. “You were incredible. Better than incredible.” And because nothing had changed and he was still eventually going to hurt her, Quinn decided he owed her the absolute truth. “I’ve never before felt the way I felt last night.”

  “I’ve never felt that way, either.” The color he’d grown far too fond of stained her cheeks. Cheeks that bore the faint marks of beard burn. “I never knew I could fly, but you showed me I could.” Her smile spread slowly, gathering him into a silver snare as she brushed a light kiss against his mouth. “And it was a glorious feeling.”

  Her body was morning warm and Nora soft. “Talk about your glorious feelings.” He rolled her onto her back, covered that inviting body with his.

  Laughing with feminine delight, she combed her fingers through his hair and began to move beneath him in a way designed to kindle smoldering sparks.

  How did she do it? He was already burning up. Quinn was debating whether they had time to do this right, when the shrill demand of the phone acted like a splash of icy water.

  Nora froze beneath him. “What if it’s the hospital?” Her voice, sultry and musical only moments earlier, was a ragged thread of sound.

  “It’s probably just your father checking on what time we’re meeting for breakfast.” Biting back a curse, he reached out and grabbed the receiver. “Yeah… Hi, Brady.” He slanted Nora an I-told-you-so look. “Nora? Why would you be asking if I know where Nora is?”

  Quinn experienced a twinge of pride at his newfound talent for answering a direct question in the roundabout Irish fashion, which was, of course, no answer at all. He was also amused by the way Nora’s face was suffused with embarrassed color.

  “She’s probably in the shower,” he suggested. “That’s undoubtedly why she didn’t hear the phone… Sure, I’ll give her a few minutes and ring her myself. Then we’ll meet you in the restaurant downstairs in thirty minutes.”

  That settled, he hung up and grinned at her. “Good thing videophones are still a thing of the future.”

  “Don’t you be teasing me, Quinn Gallagher.” Nora slid out from under him, reaching at the same time for the blanket that had slid to the floor sometime during their energetic night. “My heart nearly stopped at the idea of you talking so casually to my father while lying on top of me naked as the day you were born.”

  “That bothered you?” He arched a brow, enjoying the way she was trying to wrap the blanket around herself as she stood beside the bed. As if he hadn’t already seen—and tasted—every inch of her luscious body. “Fine. Next time you can be the one on top.”

  She laughed at that, an explosive sound of released tension that pleased him for having been the cause. “Sure, and you’re a bad man, Quinn Gallagher.”

  Her words, meant in jest, struck a bit too close to home. “I believe that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  The humor left her face and her eyes. “Quinn…”

  “Don’t be fooled by pretty words said in the heat of passion, Nora. There’s still nothing pretty inside me.”

  She met his warning look with a calm one of her own. “You said you wouldn’t lie to me, Quinn. But that’s the biggest lie of all.” She paused, seemed on the verge of saying something else, then apparently changed her mind. “I’d best be getting into that shower you told my da I was taking, if I’m to be ready for breakfast in thirty minutes.”

  With that she surprised him by dropping the blanket. Then walked out of his bedroom with an amazing amount of dignity for someone wearing only her pride.

  This time, instead of a Celtic goddess, Nora reminded Quinn of an Irish queen from the olden days when the Joyce clan ruled over parts of the West. In fact, just before she closed the connecting door between the rooms, he almost imagined he could see a bejeweled crown perched atop her regal head.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Last Night’s Fun

  Concerned as she was about her grandmother, Nora didn’t quibble when Quinn dropped her off at the hospital with the excuse that he had some business to attend to and would pick her and her grandmother up in an hour or so. In truth, she was a bit relieved he wasn’t coming to Fionna’s room with her. She feared that were her grandmother to see them together so soon after their passion-filled night, she’d know that they’d been together in that intimate way.

  She needed time away from him. Time to think about what she was feeling. And just as important, time to figure out what to do about what Quinn was feeling. She knew he’d come to care for her; although he might not be ready to say the words, the tenderness underlying his passion had assured her she was not the only one experiencing something unique. Something special. Something that felt remarkably, wonderfully, like love.

  That thought warmed the very cockles of her heart as she chatted with Fionna, who had, predictably, been telling the entire staff about Sister Bernadette saving so many lives—and Mrs. Murphy, who was more than pleased to have a new audience to hear tales of her six grandchildren.

  If Nora had been concerned about making idle conversation with Quinn on the trip back to Castlelough after sharing such passion, she needn’t have worried. Fionna and Brady talked all the way to the Derry airport, on the flight to Galway and back to the farm in Quinn’s Mercedes.

  Listening to Nora’s grandmother relate the adventure of her near-death experience at the hands of the bombers, Quinn realized Brady had inherited his talent for storytelling. Fionna may have married into the Joyce family, but she was quite a seanachie herself. When that thought got him thinking about his own Gallagher roots, the familiar pall come over his heart. But strangely, this time it didn’t feel quite as dark. Or as cold.

  After they reached the farm, Fionna insisted that she didn’t want any special attention paid to her. Nevertheless it was apparent that she was definitely in her element as she sat propped against the pillows in her oak frame bed, telling the tales again to John, Mary, Kate and the younger children. Nora’s brother Michael was there, too, having returned home from Kerry as soon as Kate had contacted him about the bombing.

  “It’s too bad school is nearly over,” Rory complained.

  “And why is that, darling?” Fionna inquired.

  “Because it would be neat if you could come tell the story to my class.”

  “Ah, now don’t they have more important tales to be hearing than those from an old lady?” Fionna said with the blatant false modesty that reminded Quinn yet again of her son.

  “It’s a fine tale, Mam,” Brady assured her on cue. “You’ll be wanting to tell it at The Rose as soon as you’re back on your feet.”

  “Which will be tomorrow,” Fionna insisted with a toss of her chin that this time reminded Quinn of both her son and granddaughter. “I’ll not be staying in this bed like some elderly invalid.”

  “You’ll be staying in bed until Dr. Flannery says
it’s all right for you to leave it,” Nora insisted firmly.

  “You’re a darling girl, Nora. But I’m more than half a century older than you. So you’ve no cause to be telling me what I can and cannot do.”

  The gauntlet had been thrown down. The air had thickened with the aura of impending battle.

  Blithely ignoring the contest of wills taking place in the cozy crowded bedroom, Brady turned to Quinn, who was standing in the doorway. Quinn had been watching the scene from a distance, as if through a plate-glass window, which was the position he’d assumed most of his life.

  “Why don’t you go out to your automobile and retrieve those packages you bought?” Brady suggested.

  “Good idea.” By the time Quinn returned, followed by Maeve, who’d come down to the car with him, the tension in the bedroom had been replaced by anticipation.

  “You bought us gifts?” John asked, his eyes widening at the shopping bags of gaily wrapped packages.

  “These are for the others,” Quinn said. “Yours is still in the car, John. I didn’t want to cart the box all the way up here only to have to take it back down again for unpacking.”

  Nora was looking at him as if he were a stranger. “This is what your alleged business was this morning?”

  She’d seen him moving packages from the trunk of the limousine into the Mercedes, but at the time she’d been so busy tending to Fionna she hadn’t paid any real attention. And when she had mentioned them on the drive home, he’d merely shrugged and said something about computer supplies.

  “Aye.” He grinned at her and handed her the first package. “I started out to replace your blazer that got ruined in the blast. Then, well, I just got a little carried away.”

  “I should say so,” Fionna said dryly as her wren-bright eyes swept over the bags and boxes. “I doubt if Father Christmas has ever shown up at this house with so many gifts.”

  “Oh, it’s so soft!” Nora had opened her package and was running her palm over the lovely emerald green blazer. She was wearing a prim white blouse and a gray tweed skirt; Quinn watched her slip into the blazer and decided he’d been right. Jewel-tone colors definitely suited her.