Mirror, Mirror

by Robb, J. D.

  “I’ll bring you whenever you’d like. For now, come and see this.” Cullen pointed to a spot a short distance away. It was a small, circular ancient stone ruin.

  She turned to him with shining eyes. “I wonder how old this is.”

  “Ancient. I’ve always considered it holy ground.”

  “Do you know anything about its history?”

  He shook his head. “Only that whenever I’m here, I feel as though I’m in another world.”

  “Is that what makes this your secret place?”

  He shrugged. “Ever since I was a boy I’ve been drawn to this spot. I used to climb here whenever I could.” He led her toward a low, flat rock and settled himself beside her. “I’d sit here and wonder what my life would be like when I was all grown up.”

  “And now, here you are.” She wrapped her arms around her drawn-up knees and smiled at him. “Is your life everything you’d hoped it would be?”

  “It is, yes. And now that you’re here, it’s even better than I’d hoped.” He lifted a hand to her face, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

  She plucked a shamrock that had grown up the side of the rock, and then a second and a third. “I used to make daisy chains when I was a little girl. I believe I’ll make a shamrock chain for you.”

  She braided the vines and twisted them about Cullen’s wrist.

  “I love it. Thank you.” He touched his palm to her cheek and smiled down into her eyes.

  When she returned his smile, he leaned close and brushed her mouth with his. Suddenly he drew back as though burned and got abruptly to his feet.

  Sydney was startled by his sudden mood shift. “What’s wrong?”

  “This isn’t wise.” He took a step back. “Every time we’re together, I tell myself to take care. But whenever I get too close to you, all my good intentions go out the window.”

  “And you think being here with me is wrong? Are you afraid of a little thing like a kiss?”

  “If you think a kiss is a little thing, you’re wrong.” His frown grew. “What I’m thinking, what I want, would shock you. And a fine woman like you deserves better. We’ll go now.”

  She stood her ground and touched a finger to the frown line that marred his brow. “What if I want the same thing you want, Cullen?”

  He shook his head in denial. “That’s the champagne talking.”

  She caught his arm when he started to turn away. “The champagne hasn’t affected me. My head is every bit as clear as the air up here.”

  “Sydney . . .”

  She placed her hand over his mouth. “How can I convince you of what I want?”

  Her eyes sparkled with humor as she lifted herself on tiptoe to brush her lips over his. At once her smile dissolved as his arms came around her, crushing her to his chest.

  His mouth moved over hers with such hunger, all she could do was return his kisses with the same urgency.

  When at last they came up for air, his eyes narrowed on her. “Now do you understand? This isn’t a game, Sydney. If you insist on staying here, you know where this will lead. Is that what you want?”

  Because she couldn’t seem to find her voice, she merely nodded.

  “I’m giving you a chance to refuse.” His words were little more than a whisper. “I want you to be sure, Sydney. For once we cross this line, we can never go back.”

  “I’m sure.”

  He framed her face with his big hands, staring into her eyes. When at last he lowered his face to hers, Sydney anticipated the heat that always accompanied his kiss. What she hadn’t counted on was the sudden shocking sexual jolt that had her body trembling with need.

  As he drew out the kiss, her fingers tightened around the front of his shirt, drawing him ever closer, needing desperately to feel his body against hers.

  “You taste like ripe peach,” he whispered inside her mouth.

  “And you taste . . .” Like sin, she thought, as he took the kiss deeper, causing her mind to go blank.

  His hands moved over her, bringing the most amazing heat. She could feel her flesh growing hot, her blood flowing like fire through her veins. Even her breath felt too hot, burning her lungs, causing her to gasp for air.

  “I want you, Sydney.” His words were a growl against her throat, causing her heartbeat to roar in her temples. “Only you.”

  She thought of all the things she wanted to say to him, but her thoughts disappeared like wisps of fog when he began nibbling kisses in the little hollow between her neck and shoulder. And when his mouth moved lower, to her breast, she was incapable of any thought at all. All that was left to her was need. This grinding, primitive need that had her arms wrapping around his neck while she offered him everything.

  Greedy, desperate, they dropped to the soft cushion of the meadow and lost themselves in the wonder of their unleashed feelings. Like two starving wanderers, they feasted. And like two lost souls they came together, filling up all the lonely places inside themselves.

  His kisses were by turn soft and seductive, and then, without warning, fierce and demanding. His hands—those big, clever hands—moved over her, bringing her the most amazing pleasure. And still, she wanted more. She wanted everything he had to give.

  “I’ve known,” he whispered against her throat, “since I first met you, that I would have to have you. But I want you to know that I fought it. I wanted this to be your choice.”

  “It’s what I want, Cullen. You’re what I want. Only you.” Her voice, choked with emotion, nearly broke on a sob as he took her up and over the first peak.

  There was no time to catch her breath before he took her again, up and up until she clutched at him, desperate for release.

  As he entered her she went very still, and for a moment the only sound was their breathing, as he stared down into her eyes with a look of such passion, such desperate longing, it pierced her heart.

  “Come with me, Sydney. Stay with me. Love me.”

  She did. Moving with him, climbing with him, as they scaled a high, steep mountain peak until their lungs burned from the effort. And when at last they reached the very pinnacle, they seemed to step back for the space of a heartbeat, savoring the intense pleasure that was building until it was almost pain. Then, unable to hold back a moment longer, they stepped over the very edge. And soared.

  THEY LAY TOGETHER IN A TANGLED HEAP OF ARMS AND legs, breathing labored, heartbeats ragged.

  “That was . . .” Cullen leaned up on his elbow and reached a hand to the damp hair at her neck. “Incredible.”

  She managed a dry laugh. “Did the earth move?”

  “It did. Yes. I felt it.”

  “Good. At least I’m not the only one.”

  “Ah, but you are the only one, my love. The only one who has ever touched my heart like this.”

  In the silence that followed, he looked down at her. “Am I heavy?”

  Instead of waiting for her reply, he rolled to one side, drawing her into the circle of his arms.

  She lay perfectly still, absorbing the feel of being held in his embrace. She could hear the strong, steady beat of his heart inside her own chest, keeping perfect time to hers. His warm breath feathered the hair at her temple.

  She could lie just so forever. The thought was so comforting, she let out a long, low sigh.

  He laid a big palm on her cheek. “Are you weary after such a day? Do you want to go?”

  “No. Do you?”

  “What I want . . .” He smiled before brushing his mouth over hers. “Is you, love. Just you.”

  And then, without a word, his kisses became more urgent, as did his touch, as he led her down and down to a deep, dark cavern of sensual delight, to the most exquisite secret place of all. A place where only lovers can go.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “When I was a lad, I hiked all these fields.” Cullen held Sydney’s hand in his as they followed the trail back to the spot beside the river where they’d left the picnic hamper.

  She liked
having her hand held. Liked the easy way he’d caught it, and then continued holding it, even swinging their hands as they walked. In fact, she liked everything about being with him. “It’s fun to think about you out here, doing all the things kids do, Cullen. It’s such a peaceful place. But so rugged. Did you ever get lost?”

  “Never. How could I, with the river Glass to show me the way back?” At the bank of the river he paused to pick up the hamper before leading her across the bridge.

  As they headed toward town, Sydney turned for a last look at the majestic river, meandering about the countryside like a shiny ribbon. Slipper Rock gleamed in the setting sun, a beacon of light as dusk began settling over the land. “I know what you mean. My father said he could follow the river for miles and never feel as though he’d left home.” She sighed. “I felt that way about the farm when I was young. When Margot sold everything and we moved to the city, I wandered around feeling like a lost soul for such a long time.”

  “What happened to finally make the city feel like home?”

  She thought about it. “The friends I made. Gradually they took the place of my family. And the big city that I’d found so overwhelming eventually narrowed down to a few blocks of shops and apartments. My neighbors, my students, became the family I craved.”

  Cullen nodded. “It was the same for me. When I lost my parents, I knew I could always count on the good people of Innismere to fill the hole in my heart, the same way they’d once cared for my grandfather.”

  “How did your parents die?”

  “In a plane crash over Scotland.”

  “How awful.”

  He nodded. “But it comforted me to know they’d gone together. It had always been their wish to be together for all time. And now, they are.”

  “That’s such a lovely thought. And the townspeople watched over you after you lost your parents?”

  He nodded. “They were my aunts and uncles, cousins and godparents. My family and my friends.” He squeezed her hand. “But friends can only do so much. They can’t ever replace that special someone every heart craves.”

  Sydney felt a tingle of warmth all the way to her toes. Could she be that someone for him? Could he be that someone for her?

  As they passed beneath a wooden pub sign, Cullen paused. “How about a pint at O’Malley’s?”

  Sydney laughed. “If you’d like.”

  He led her through a rowdy crowd, pausing at every table to call out a greeting, and to introduce Sydney to one and all. After a few minutes it became impossible for her to remember so many smiling faces, so many happy people, and all of them like old friends, so warm and easy with both her and Cullen.

  They managed to squeeze into a small, cramped booth near the kitchen. As a pretty blonde in a bright green apron passed by, Cullen held up two fingers, and within minutes she set down two frosty bottles. In the space of half an hour, nearly every patron of the pub had stopped by to joke with Cullen, and to give his pretty date a few lingering looks.

  “They approve,” he whispered.

  “Of what?”

  “Not what. Who. You, of course.”

  “Oh.” She managed to blush. “And here I thought maybe I had grass in my hair, or a piece of chicken stuck in my teeth.”

  “Well, you do.” He rubbed his thumb over her lips and saw her eyes widen before her laughter returned. “But I still say they were looking over my lady.”

  My lady. The phrase did something strange to her heart.

  “Here you are.” A giant of a man, with red hair and a smile that turned his craggy boxer’s face from stern to that of a jovial pixie, caught Cullen’s hand in a death grip and squeezed. “Annie said she’d seen you come in with”—he turned to Sydney—“a rare beauty. And my Annie doesn’t lie.”

  “Sydney, this is . . .”

  “O’Malley,” the giant said. “Welcome to my pub.”

  “Thank you. It’s wonderful.”

  Seeing their bottles empty, the man signaled for a waitress. “Will you have another?”

  “Sorry. One’s my limit.” Cullen got to his feet and reached for Sydney’s hand.

  As he dug his hand in his pocket, O’Malley closed a hand over his arm. “Not on your life. Your money’s no good here.” He reached around Cullen to offer a handshake. “It was lovely meeting you, Sydney. I hope you’ll come back again often.”

  “Thank you. I’d like that.”

  As they maneuvered their way through the crowd, there were shouts and calls of good-bye.

  After the wall of sound inside the pub, the silence of the evening was a welcome relief.

  They walked through the town, smiling and answering those who called out a greeting. It was, Sydney realized, so pleasant to feel like a part of the ebb and flow of this pretty little country village.

  I could easily make this town my home.

  The thought caught her by surprise, though she couldn’t say why. But then, after all, this had been her father’s home. Why couldn’t it be hers, as well?

  She was so deep in thought she was caught by surprise when she found herself outside the inn.

  Cullen released her hand and set down the picnic basket before retrieving her art supplies.

  He studied the painting of Slipper Rock before asking, “Would you mind if I kept this?”

  She arched a brow in question.

  He merely gave her a devilish smile that wrapped itself around her heart and squeezed until she could hardly breathe. “A memento of this very special day. Do you mind?”

  That had her blushing furiously. “Not at all. If you’d really like it, it’s yours.”

  He brushed a quick kiss over her mouth just as Sean stepped through the door.

  The old man looked from Cullen to Sydney. “Well, here you are. Bridget and I were just wondering when you’d be home.”

  Home. Sydney couldn’t help smiling. After only a few days, wasn’t that exactly how this lovely inn was beginning to feel?

  Cullen gave the old man a wink. “I knew I’d better get her back before you and Bridget sent out a search party.”

  Sean chuckled. “We knew she was in good hands with you, lad.” He turned to Sydney. “Bridget has tea and scones, if you’ve a mind to join her.”

  “Thank you. I’d like that.” Sydney glanced at Cullen, feeling suddenly shy. “How about you?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll be leaving now.” With Sean watching, he leaned close to drop a quick kiss on her cheek.

  Swinging the hamper in one hand, he lifted the other in a jaunty wave before walking away.

  Sydney stayed where she was, staring after him until she realized that Sean was watching her a little too closely. Her cheeks felt suddenly hot. Lifting her hand to her face, she turned away and strode into the inn.

  “SO, YOU SPENT THE DAY AT THE RIVER?” BRIDGET FILLED A lovely china cup with tea and passed it across the table to Sydney, before indicating the plate of scones. “Did it cast its spell?”

  “Spell?” Sydney looked up from her tea in surprise.

  “Most first-time visitors to our town find the river Glass one of our most intriguing points of interest. Not only because of the lovely bridge, which offers a very different view from the other side, but the river itself, which has the most calming influence on people. It’s especially appealing to people from big cities who hear only automobile horns and sirens and voices raised in anger.”

  Sydney smiled. “I can relate. And to tell you the truth, I thought the river did cast a spell over me.” Her smile grew. “I thought I saw a castle instead of the church on the hill, and robed women and men coming down out of the clouds.”

  Bridget took her time selecting a scone. “Did you tell Cullen what you thought you saw?”

  Sydney nodded. “We shared quite a laugh at my artist’s imagination.”

  “Ah, yes. You’re an artist.” Intrigued, Bridget set aside her tea. “Tell me what you painted.”

  Sydney shrugged, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “I�
�d intended to paint everything. The river, the trees reflected in its water, even the town up on the hill. But in the end, all I found myself drawn to was Slipper Rock.”

  “You painted our rock? May I see it?”

  Again that self-conscious shrug. “Cullen asked if he could keep it. He said he wanted it as a memento of our day together.”

  Bridget was fairly beaming. “Why, I think that’s quite romantic.”

  Sydney relaxed. “I’m glad you think so.” She blushed furiously. “I mean . . . I thought so, too, but I was afraid I was just being silly.”

  “Romance is never silly.” Bridget gave her a gentle smile. “Why don’t we take our tea out on the patio, where we can sit and watch the setting sun?”

  Sydney followed the older woman outside, grateful for the shifting shadows that would cover the range of emotions she knew were visible in her eyes.

  This entire day had been like a lovely dream. She only wished she and Cullen could have spent the night together, as well.

  Later, as she made her way up to her room, she shivered with anticipation. There was always tomorrow.

  IT WAS EARLY MORNING WHEN CULLEN PACED THE BACK room of the gallery while an old man sat at a table peering at a canvas through a lighted magnifier. Cullen had wanted to come by the previous night, but he’d known it was too late for his old friend to be up. And so he’d waited, and counted the hours until he’d felt it safe to assume that Paddy would be up and dressed and would have finished his morning tea.

  Now he counted the tiles on the floor, and then the overly loud tick-tock of the clock on the far wall. It was the only sound he could hear. The room, like the old man, had gone eerily silent.

  When at last the old man looked up, his lips curved into a wide smile. His eyes behind the thick lenses of his spectacles glinted with unrestrained excitement.

  “It’s as you thought, lad.”

  Cullen released the breath he’d been holding. “You’ve no doubt, Paddy?”

  “None at all, lad.”

  The two shook hands before Cullen plucked the now-framed canvas from the worktable and tucked it under his arm. “Thank you, Paddy.”