“Impressive set of credentials. Hard to argue when you introduce him that way.”
“Patrick, I’m serious.”
“Calm down. I’m only joking with you. You have to admit, it’s pretty bizarre, you remembering a past life and all. You have to give me some time to accept it.”
“Right.”
“So, is Leif aware of his previous status? Does he remember you as you remember him?”
“If he has, he doesn’t let on.”
“You sound disappointed, Rain.”
“Maybe a little. But you know, I’ve given some serious thought to what you said this morning and I think you’re right. Making Leif remember who he was, is not as important as keeping him in my life. He may never remember who he used to be and if I force it upon him, I could lose him. I can’t stand the thought of that happening.”
She shifted her weight to one hip and sighed. The notion of Leif walking out on her cut deep. So deep, she felt the jagged edge of that knife slicing her heart in two. Realizing her jolly mood had taken a swift nose-dive into Despairville, she drew in a huge breath and changed the subject. “So,” she respired promptly. “How’s Kentucky? Does Captain even know I’m gone?”
“Oh, it’s pitiful,” he said, his voice carrying a load of annoyance. “He’s been lying at the foot of your bed since you left, looking at me like I kicked you out of the house. It’s ridiculous.”
Lorraine had to laugh. Though Patrick had bought the dog to serve as company on the spacious farm, the dog took to her like a savory beef-flavored bone the day she moved in. “Scratch him behind the ears for me, will ye?”
“Yeah, whatever.”
Lorraine put an ear toward the hall, listening for the shower. Still on. “You got big plans this Friday?”
She heard Patrick hum in thought before he came clean. “Beth’s coming over for the weekend.”
“All weekend?”
“Mm-hm.”
“I assume she liked the idea of me being in Ireland.”
“Of course.”
“You don’t sound so excited.”
“I’m a man. ‘Hip hip hooray’ is not in my vocabulary no matter how thrilled I am.”
“So, you’re thrilled she’s coming over?”
“If that’s what you want to hear, sure.”
“You know better than that. I want to hear how you truly feel about her. I was under the impression you liked her.”
“I do like her. She’s a great girl. But…she’s…not—”
“Patrick, I’m sorry. Leif’s getting out of the shower. I gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
****
Patrick heard the sharp click of Lorraine ending the call and dead silence thereafter, his train of thought still on the same track before he was interrupted. “She’s not you.”
****
Leif leaned back in his chair, setting his fork beside his clean plate, and wiped his mouth with his napkin. Never taking his eyes from hers, he sat there with his forearms resting on the table, fingers interlaced, as if contemplating his next words. “I’ve never had a woman cook for me before. I can certainly get used to this.”
Did he mean any woman, or just her? She wasn’t about to ask, but she did bait him with a question of her own. “Does that mean I’ve better culinary skills than Kristoff?”
“That and so much more. Honestly, this has got to be the best meal I’ve ever eaten.”
“You know,” Lorraine said, reaching out and letting her fingertips brush over his knuckles. “You don’t have to flatter me. Regardless of what you think of my cooking, I’ll let you get into this dress.”
“Is that so?” He gripped her wrist and pulled her out of her chair onto his lap. The heated look in his eyes burned a hole through her even more than the warmth of his body seeping through her thin evening attire.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she drew herself closer. “The night is still young, you know.”
“So, we’re back to clichés, huh?”
“Well, the moon is bright tonight,” she proposed, twirling the hair at his neck. “We could go for a walk along the shore if you wanted.”
He tucked his nose in the crevice of her throat and breathed in, his lips brushing against her skin as he whispered. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
Lorraine closed her eyes and let his mouth roam up and down her neck. If he kept this up, she’d likely cast the stroll on the beach suggestion aside. Shivers climbed up her spine and she giggled. Trying her best to resist him, she put her hands on his chest and pushed. “Good things come to those who wait, Leif.”
He clenched his teeth and drew in a massive breath, glancing down between their bodies. “Tell that to him.”
Lorraine took notice of the bulge beneath his khaki dress pants. A smile tipped the corners of her lips. It amazed her how easily Leif’s body responded to her. She couldn’t lie. She loved every aching moment he spent yearning for her, just as she enjoyed the days when Dægan had first showed her what a man’s erection was for. She remembered the times Dægan had craved her and how instantaneously he’d swell at attention. Though brief was their life together, she’d never forget how aroused he’d become when he wanted her.
Reaching down, she traced him with a playful finger. “Can he wait?”
“You’re cruel, love.”
“I can be more wicked if you’re willing to be patient,” she purred. No matter what he decided, it would be a win-win situation. The feel of the solid distention from beneath his zipper sent a jolt of pleasure between her legs. Her body hadn’t let her forget the shameless things his erection was capable of. The lingering sensation of last night’s reckless abandon tingled in her loins.
Proving his will power was evidently stronger than hers, he stood with her in his arms and set her gently on her feet. She studied him, her hands splaying over his chest. His breathing was purposely slow and deep, the rise and fall of his chest undulating beneath her palms. It was evident he was cooling his jets.
Taking her hands in his, he cast another heated look over her body, his eyes loitering at her legs. He clicked his tongue a few times. “What a shame you can’t wear those heels on our moonlight walk. You’re liable to snap your ankle on the rocks and then I’d have to call Dr. O’Donnell again.” He looked as if he were convincing himself that being cursed in Gaelic might be worth leaving the heels on. “Nah, his wife would beat me over the head with a cast iron skillet. But you’re putting them back on later.”
“I think that can be arranged,” she said, slipping them off. Now three inches shorter, she felt small. Her courage seemed to wither away as she shrunk before him, his oversized torso in her face.
Leif reached around her and filled their wine glasses with the talent of a debonair waiter. After kicking off his shoes, he offered his elbow and smiled. “Shall we?”
She took her glass in hand and fed her arm through his. Leaning into his rock-solid physique for comfort, they left the house together. Arm in arm, they made their way to the shoreline of Inis Mór’s beach, the sibilant sound of breaking waves filling the air.
Lorraine was the happiest she’d ever been. The ambience of the cool dark night lit by a bright summer moon surrounded her with a sense of ease she never wanted to end. Being with Leif was a dream come true. Everything beyond this moment didn’t matter. Dwelling on such indefinites would only ruin the few days she had left with him. All she could hope for was that when her time in Ireland was through, he’d make the choice she coveted most. That he’d want nothing more than to journey onward with her at his side.
“Careful,” he warned as they strolled over the pebble-strewn beach. His arm flexed around hers in a vice until they reached the lapping waves at their feet.
The shock of the cold water rushing past her ankles caused her to gasp. Holding onto his arm, she withstood the pull of the tide, watching as it receded into the ocean with great force. “Is it always this strong?”
“It’s even greater at high
tide.”
Another foaming wave broke on the shore and lapped over their feet. Still not used to the chill of the water, she nearly jumped into his arms.
He laughed and steadied her, pulling her out of the ocean’s reach. Finding a huge bolder, he guided her to sit beside him. “So much for our walk on the beach,” he teased.
“I’m used to beaches with warm equatorial waters and sun-baked sand.”
“You’ll not find that here,” he said, tipping his glass to his mouth. “This is Ireland. You’re lucky the moon is out.”
Lorraine took a sip as well, drinking in some liquid courage. “I’m lucky I’m with you.”
Leif turned his head, the intensity of his eyes burrowing into her soul. Clinking his glass ever so slightly with hers, he smiled. “To small blessings.”
She nodded and drank with him, thankful the roar of the Atlantic blocked out the pounding thud of her heart. She wasn’t sure if it was the darkness shadowing his face or the reminiscence of their kiss in the barn, but when she stared at him, he looked positively sinful. The way his profile cut into the black of the night, with his soft hair blowing away from the hard angles of his face, was the perfect picture of male excellence. Between the broad muscles that ballooned from beneath his clothes to his impressive six-three height, she wanted nothing more than to feel all of that beautiful male essence on top of her, crushing her into his bed. She wanted to breathe him in, to feel the glisten of sweat on his back as he worked to bring her to climax.
“Did you get in touch with your friend?”
Her rampant thoughts skidded to a halt “W-what?”
“Your friend in the States…Patrick? Did you reach him?”
“Oh, yes. Yes, of course. I talked to him this morning before I went into Kilronan.”
Leif shot her a wry smile. “Was he upset?”
She drew in a deep breath, attempting to steer her brain from out of the intimacies of Leif’s bed and into this unexpected complacent conversation. “No, he was just worried.”
“Did you tell him why you hadn’t called?”
“I told him about you, if that’s what you’re hinting.”
He flashed a smile, the kind that reached his eyes. “Does he want to jump on the next plane and kick my arse?”
“Maybe.”
Self-satisfied laughter erupted from deep within him and he chased it down with the last of his wine. “I used to know a Patrick. I met him a few years ago at a horse auction in Galway. I’d bought Thor and needed a set of shoes put on before I made the trip back. He was one of the farriers there. Can’t recall his last name though, and probably wouldn’t know it if you said it.”
Lorraine’s eyes widened. “A farrier? My friend Patrick’s a farrier too.”
“Has he been to Ireland?”
Lorraine thought for a second. “He’s been here many times, working the races mostly; The Irish Grand National, the Curragh Derby, the Killarney Festival. And those are just the ones I can remember. He was always traveling.”
“Was?” he baited.
She shivered as the night air crept under her skin. “Until after my parents died. He took me under his wing and has…”
Leif began unbuttoning his shirt, distracting her. “Watched over you?” he finished for her, peeling the fabric from his arms.
The warmth from his body still infused the cloth as he wrapped it around her shoulders. “Yes, you could say that. He’s been the protective big brother I’ve never had. Most people don’t understand. They think because two people of the opposite sex are living together under the same roof they’re romantically involved in some way.”
“I understand it,” Leif asserted. “Everyone needs someone they can rely on, no matter what gender they are. I guess Kristoff, though I hate to admit it, would be one of those for me. ‘Course, I’d have no qualms about trading him in for someone else.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Oh, I do,” Leif insisted, reaching up and tightening the shirt around her neck. “Kristoff is like…”
Lorraine recalled the discussion she and Dægan had had about his brother, Eirik, centuries ago. “Let me guess. He’s like the runt of the litter you know you shouldn’t keep, but you do anyway, hoping he’ll be worth something someday.”
Leif grinned from ear to ear. “You know Kristoff well then.”
“I think I know you well enough to know what you think of him.”
“You know me, huh?” He angled his body toward hers. “Then what am I thinking right now?”
Her mouth went dry at the sudden passion blazing his eyes. His mouth was inches from hers, hovering dangerously close. She licked her bottom lip and bit down. “You’re thinking…” She swallowed, glancing down at the perfect arc of his sensual lips. “…you’ve been patient long enough and you’re finished playing the gentleman?”
“Are you a mind reader?”
“Nah, just a gut feeling I have.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Leif shut the door to his guest room, her heels dangling from the hook of his fingers as he watched Lorraine removed his shirt from her shoulders. Her long dark hair trailed behind her, revealing a long sensuous neck above beautiful collar bones, perfect for planting various kisses. The black dress she wore hung glamorously over her hips, alluding to the womanly curves she possessed. The alluring long gape in the back had him guessing she donned nothing underneath, the soft skin of her body just waiting to be touched should she slip it off.
His groin ached to see her naked again, throbbing with the force of his pounding heart. No matter how much he tried to settle himself, the pang of his arousal plagued him, making it impossible for him to think of anything but burying himself inside her.
Dismissing his selfish feral needs, he neared her and presented the sexy shoes. “If you don’t mind.” His voice came out strained, a lot more than he cared to demonstrate.
She smiled, accepting his request, and slipped them on. Her dainty hand absently reached for his forearm as she steadied herself one foot at a time. Though her touch was innocent, it sent a bolt of fiery heat through his body.
With a flick of his wrist, he seized her hand and wrenched her closer, a sweet whimper of surprise resounding from her luscious mouth. Parted and supple, her lips teased him. The soft swell of her breasts smashed against his chest stirred a lust so great he felt he’d burst. In glancing down at the cleavage lifting over her low-cut neckline, he surrendered all efforts of resisting her.
Plummeting to her mouth, he kissed her hard, his hands tangling in her hair. The sugary taste of wine mixed with the wicked flavor of her own desire had him plunging passed her teeth and mating his tongue with hers. An unruly sense of greed overcame him, licentious in nature as it urged him to take everything she had without remorse. Had it not been for the sharp intake of breath as he dove to her neck, it would’ve been too late to regain control.
Breathing as if he’d been starved of air, he buried his face in her neck and squeezed his eyes closed. His hormones coursed unmercifully through his veins. Trying to find just a sliver of composure, he jerked from her arms.
The look on her face had him regretting his reaction. Her eyes befit a flash of pain as if he’d coldly rejected her, her arms falling to her sides in despair.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized in haste. “It’s not you I’m pulling away from, it’s me.”
He watched Lorraine try to sort out the vagueness of his excuse, confusion afflicting her wits. He tried again. “I have to slow down else I fear I’ll hurt you. It’s as if every aggression I’ve ever felt, and every emotion I’ve ever kept hidden, is threatening to unleash. I don’t know where it’s coming from, Rain.”
Lorraine stared at him, silent as the grave. He swore she was trembling as she gazed at him.
“I know you don’t understand what I’m saying, but I feel like I’ve been kept from you for an immeasurable amount of time and I’ve finally been granted reprieve.” He spun around and gripped the
wall behind him for support, unable to bear the look of her contemptuous eyes.
“I know we’ve only met a few days ago,” he tried to spell out. “But everything inside me down to the bare fundamentals of my make-up tells me I’ve known you all my life.”
“Even before you were born?”
Her thin shaky voice sent him spinning around. “Yes! Like you and I were…”
“Destined?”
His breath escaped him in a rush. He loathed placing his feelings amid a load of hogwash, but yes, he felt they were fated to meet and be together. “How can I be making sense to you?”
Her face lit up with a twinkling smile. “I’ve felt it too. From the moment I saw you, and with each passing day, it’s grown. But I never wanted to tell you for fear you’d…”
He rushed toward her, gripping her by the arms. “I don’t know what this is,” he said placing his hand on her heart then his. “But I don’t want to imagine myself without it. Without you. I need you.”
Lorraine wove her hands in his hair. “I’m here, Leif.”
Though her words meant to soothe him, her touch incited the wrath of a warrior, depraved of his lover’s affection. Even if he held a sword and shield in his hands, he would’ve felt no more the part, ready to slay anyone who stood in his way of being with the woman he desired.
Clenching his jaw to the point of crushing his teeth, he endured the ferocity of his passion rising within him. The mixed degrees of emotions ranging from desperation to barefaced lasciviousness almost scared him.
He swallowed the knot in his throat. “Help me to slow down. Force me to take my time with you. Please, I beg you.”
As he constrained the riotous emotions, he saw a dash of audacity flicker in the cool jade of her eyes. She stepped back and slipped the strap of her dress off one shoulder, and then the next. Shuffling in the most erotic way, it slipped down her body and dropped to her ankles. Standing before him in nothing but her drop-a-man-to-his-knees spiked heels, she offered her suggestion.
The Emerald Isle Trilogy Boxed Set Page 84
