“I hope you’re right,” she said. “Did you clean the wound with anything?”
Des pursed his lips and nodded. “Aye, of course I did. I washed it out with peroxide.”
“Let me see.”
Muttering beneath his breath, Des removed the bandage and revealed the ragged hole in Ash’s shoulder. Maya inspected it and thought it appeared clean, for now. When Ash stirred, she gave him six ibuprofen tablets and water. His green eyes sought hers and held them, his gaze as mesmerizing as ever. “Will you stay with me, acushla?” he asked.
“Yes, Ash,” Maya told him. “I’ll make up some excuse with the college, too.”
Her nimble fingers replaced the bandage and made Ash more comfortable. Maya plumped the pillows, straightened the sheets and smoothed the blankets. She tucked him in with tender care and settled down beside the bay windows to wait. Desmond brought her favorite armchair, a vintage piece, from the library and made tea. She accepted a steaming cup from him with thanks and he settled down, at ease on the floor.
“He’ll do, I think,” he told her. “You mustn’t fret.”
Maya snorted. “That’s hard not to do. Now while he’s asleep, tell me exactly how this happened.”
“I came over to see Ash and to deliver something he asked me to get for him,” Des said. “I’ve not seen him in some time and I thought it’d be safe to make a trip. But enough Irish on both sides of the Troubles call the place home, and I had the misfortune of being recognized by one of them: a bad one who used to be RUC, Royal Ulster Constabulary. The man hates me from long ago…a personal grudge. He followed me, but I didn’t notice. Back home, where I live now in Belfast, I would’ve, but I made the mistake of thinking I didn’t need to worry. Ash picked me up earlier and we went to eat. When we came out, the RUC’s man trailed us back here and opened fire. He meant to hit me, but either he couldn’t tell us apart – we’re very alike, for our sins – or his aim was poor. He shot Ash instead.”
If she’d arrived earlier, Maya could’ve been caught in the crossfire. The idea frightened her, but another thought loomed larger. “So why did he leave? Why didn’t he just move in and kill both of you?”
“Ah,” Desmond said. His eyes refused to meet hers. “I shot him back, you see.”
“And no one phoned 911?” Maya asked. She didn’t want to know if he’d killed the man or not. Ignorance could be a good thing at a time such as this.
He shrugged. “I’d say not.”
“Will Ash be in danger now?”
“No, no,” Des replied with certainty. “They wanted me, not him. He has no part in all of it. And I’m leaving early in the morning, going back where I belong. I don’t want him hurt, you know, and it’s bad I feel about it all. I’ll not visit here again – he can come meet me somewhere else, sometime. I’m glad you turned up when you did. He wanted you. You have to know how much … but he didn’t want to involve you. Before we came to his house, you’re the only thing outside of campus he talked about. Once shot, you were the one person he wanted.”
His casual reference pleased her. Maybe Ash cared more than Maya imagined. Although blindsided hard with the unexpected turn of events, she couldn’t deny it any longer – she loved Ash. Any uncertainty evaporated the moment she learned he’d been shot. By the time she stood by Ash’s bedside and gazed down at his still, white face, Maya had no doubts. A few hours ago she would’ve kept her revelation to herself and probably buried it deep for fear of rejection or lack of reciprocation.
“And I’m here, now,” Maya said. “But maybe he’ll want you around too, while he heals.”
As soon as the words flew from her mouth, she wanted to take them back. She must be crazy to suggest a terrorist, one who got her lover shot, should stay longer but Des didn’t seem like a terrible man. Some would call him a patriot, she reminded herself. Perhaps he was. Maya didn’t know and at this moment, she wouldn’t begin to try to figure it all out.
Desmond O’Neill’s blue eyes met hers, as dark and cool as his brother’s eyes burned with green fire. “I’d like to stay a bit,” he said. “He’s my brother and I’d rest easier knowing he recovers well, but I don’t want to draw more trouble his way.”
“So, stay.”
Maya could swear tears filled his eyes, and Des nodded. “I will, then, just a day or two at most. He’s right about you – you do have a caring heart. You’re stronger, though, than he guessed. Ash worried you’d be too frightened by all this, but I don’t see any fear.”
She extended one hand to demonstrate how it trembled. “I’m afraid,” she told him. “But, I’m staying anyway, so maybe that’s bravery. I love…I mean, I care about Ash, so I’m here and I’ll do whatever I must to help him. You say there’s no danger, but if need be, I can shoot and shoot well.”
His dark eyebrows lifted halfway to his hairline. “You’re a woman in a thousand,” Des said with admiration. “My brother never told me you could handle a gun.”
“He doesn’t know, I don’t think,” Maya said. “But I was raised in the South and my daddy taught me well.”
Afternoons, evenings, her father had taken all of the children out to the back field. He set up tin cans, soda pop aluminum ones, along with the odd glass bottle, and they shot. Maya demonstrated a better eye for it than both her brothers. After she went away to college and began her career, Maya gave up firearms. She didn’t own one and hadn’t even touched one in decades, but the skill would be there, if she needed it.
“I hope it won’t come to that,” Desmond said. “But I’m glad to know should we need it.”
Within the hour Desmond took Maya to the library, a quiet, comfortable room she’d always adored. He removed some books on the one of the non-fiction shelves to reveal a hidden compartment. It held several pistols. Des retrieved them and handed her a .32 Colt automatic pistol. She stared at it, stunned to learn the library held more than literature and reading material.
“Can you use it?” Des asked, his voice soft but with an undertone of steel.
“Yes,” Maya nodded. “I can.”
“Keep it close, just in case,” he told her. “Stay with Ash and I’ll take a turn around the back garden to be sure we’re alone.”
In the quiet bedroom Maya scooted the armchair beside the bed where Ash slept. She put the pistol on the nightstand and curled up in the chair to watch, to wait. Although it wasn’t even dark, she suspected this would prove to be a very long night.
By dawn, Ash spiked a temperature. It wasn’t dangerously high and Des, apparently well versed in such things, assured her it was no more than the body’s response to injury. Ash awoke, his eyes bright with fever, but he knew her. “Maya, you’re here,” he said with some amazement. “You stayed after all.”
“Of course, I did,” she told him with tenderness. She brushed back hair from his face with a gentle caress and put her hand across his forehead. “How do you feel? You’re running a little fever.”
“Ah, I’m fine,” he said although his voice remained too low. “I’m a bit weak and my shoulder hurts but I’ll do, I’m sure. Is Des still around?”
“Aye, brother,” Desmond said from the bay windows. He rose and came to stand on the opposite side of the bed from Maya. “I’m here until I know for sure you’ll heal.”
Ash whispered something so soft his brother leaned down close to hear it. Maya couldn’t understand the words – he must, she thought, be speaking Irish Gaelic. Desmond, maybe for her sake, replied in English. “Aye, it’s safe enough for now. I’ve not seen or heard anything out of that lot. Never fear. Your woman’s got your back, Ashton.”
“She’s a professor, Des,” Ash murmured. “And, a woman at that.”
“She can handle a gun,” Des told him with a wink meant for Maya. “There’s more to her than you’re aware.”
His green eyes stared up at her as he said, “Maya?”
“It’s true,” she said. “Don’t worry. I can do this.”
“Woman, I don’t want you i
n harm’s way,” Ash said.
He could be blunt – but so could she. “Do you want me to stay?”
“Aye, I do.” His hand moved to grasp hers, tight.
“Then I’m here. I’ll take care of you, Ash, but you need to rest. Are you thirsty?”
“Dry as a desert.”
Maya poured cool water into a glass from a carafe she’d filled in the kitchen. She held the straw to his lips and he drank. “Thank you. I’m a wee bit hungry.”
Relief flooded her. “That’s a good sign,” she told him. “You’ll need to start light, though. I’ll go see if there’s some broth or something in the kitchen in just a little bit. Can you take some ibuprofen for the pain and fever?”
“I can.”
Ash managed the tablets and then drifted back to sleep. When he woke again, Maya coaxed him to take a little beef broth. A pattern of sleeping, eating, resting fell into place and by the morning of the third day, both Maya and Des had no doubt Ash was recovering. His fever abated and his color began to return. Ash could sit up in bed, backed by pillows, and he began to try solid foods with caution. Maya kept close and spent most of her time in the bedroom, chained to the armchair. She and Des had become friends, of a sort. He fussed at her until she slept in short snatches and took a few breaks out in the garden. Maya felt closer to Ash in the natural world he’d created, and she picked a bouquet of some of his lovely flowers to place where he could enjoy their beauty.
Love made a difference in their interaction, at least on her part. As a week passed Maya lavished tenderness on him in a way she hadn’t before. She did small things for Ash she wouldn’t have before his wound. Each morning she combed his hair and when he needed a shave, although Maya never shaved anyone before, she helped with that too. In the first few days, she spoon-fed him broths and soups. When he felt he could get out of bed for short periods, Maya helped him make the few steps to a chair.
They talked during his convalescence, the kind of conversation they hadn’t before, intimate and familiar. Before, they talked all the time, but about campus and about their lives, but in a limited way. Now Ash shared things he loved, the music he preferred as a soundtrack for his life. He quoted poetry to her––endearing for a literature professor––and he sang old Irish ballads. Desmond joined in, sometimes, with the songs. He told her things she’d never known about his life and Maya gave back. She shared some of the most poignant moments about her childhood including the loss of her grandfather, something she seldom spoke about to anyone.
For the first time Maya allowed Ash to read the poems she scribbled and he pronounced them quite good. And she sang, too, old Southern gospel songs and some of the folk songs her grandmother taught her as a little girl. Music proved to be yet another passion they shared, and as the days passed, Ash grew stronger and so did their relationship.
“What did you tell the university to explain our absence?” Ash asked her on the first day he felt well enough to venture out onto the covered patio.
Maya smiled. “I said we both suffered from a virulent food poisoning,” she told him. “They accepted it without question after I paused and made terrible retching noises.”
Ash laughed. “I imagine so, acushla. Thank you, Maya, for that and for all you’re doing.”
“I’m glad I can help,” she told him. “You look much better.”
“I feel well. Just a bit weak still, but that’ll pass. Where’s Des?”
“He went to the supermarket,” Maya said. She worried every time Ash’s brother left the house, afraid he wouldn’t return or that he might draw another enemy with him when he did. “He should be back soon. I think he plans to leave tomorrow, this time for certain.”
“Aye,” Ash said after a pause. “I’ll miss him, but it’s for the best. He’s had a troubled life, my brother, but has a good heart just the same.”
Until she shared time and concern with Desmond, Maya would’ve objected but she nodded. “He does. I’ve come to like him, Ash, and he’s been a good friend to me.”
Ash offered her his wicked grin, one she hadn’t since his injury. “As long as he remains a friend, I’m fine with it,” he told her. “You don’t have any notions about my brother, do you, woman?”
Something warm and sweet uncurled deep within her belly and she smiled back as she said, “No, Ash. My notions are all for you.”
“Come here,” he said and stretched out his hand. Maya moved from her seat to stand beside the chaise lounge where Ash reclined. “I’m feeling well enough for a kiss, acushla.”
“Are you sure?” Maya longed for a kiss but she didn’t want to jeopardize his recovery either.
“Very.” His firm voice made her wonder what else might be in the same condition.
Ash pulled her down onto the chaise with him and she cuddled against his right side, mindful of his injured shoulder. He kissed her with hunger, his lips offering a slow sizzle. After more than a week of starvation, Maya craved his mouth just as much. Ash let his mouth linger against her in a slow caress, heavy with yearning and with quiet passion. His normal kisses smoked with heat and were often rough, but she’d gloried in each one. This time he cherished her and Maya responded with the same. All the concern, the emotion behind each moment of care she’d lavished on him fueled her response and she realized, as her breath caught short, slow heat fired to a new erotic level.
“Ta ghra agam do, acushla,” Ash whispered as his breath brushed light across her cheek. Maya didn’t understand the Irish but he added, in English, “I doubt I can do more just yet, but soon, woman, soon.”
“Oh, yes,” Maya agreed. She cuddled against his good side, her head against his shoulder. She heard the steady thump of his heartbeat and her breathing adjusted to his until they existed in tandem. A wave of tenderness poured over her, drowning any inhibitions in its flood. Some of her constant worry vanished too. No doubt remained: Ash would be whole and well again, and meanwhile, they had connected on a much deeper level. Without fear of rejection, she cupped her hand against his left cheek. “I’m glad you’re getting better, Ash. I worried myself frazzled over you.”
“Aye, I know,” he said with something like satisfaction in his voice. “I often wondered how much did you care, or if you wanted my body alone, but now I have an idea.”
Maya parted her lips to say the three words in her heart, but Des popped out from the house. “Mind yourselves, now,” he said with a grin. “I’m back. I’ve brought food and drink. I bought my airplane ticket as well.”
With mixed emotions, gladness and a touch of regret combined, Maya asked, “What time, Des? I’d be happy to give you a ride to LAX.”
“I’d appreciate it, Maya but it’s an early flight, four in the morning day after tomorrow, so if you’d rather not, I’ll understand.”
“Des, I don’t mind,” she said. “Without you, Lord knows what might have happened to Ash.”
Desmond wrinkled his nose and offered a wry grin. “Without me, he wouldn’t have been shot at all, woman but I’ll take the ride with thanks. Think you’ll be able to see me off, brother?”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Ash said. “I’ll do, I’m sure.”
Maya studied him, his face with a healthy color once more. “Then you need to go inside and get a long nap,” she suggested. “I insist you’ll have to rest more if you’re planning to go.”
“It might be better if I practiced walking,” Ash said, practical and pragmatic. “But I won’t quibble, acushla. Would you mind helping me inside, then?”
“Of course,” Maya said. He arose with stiff, slow movements and stood. Then Ash wrapped his arm around her waist and together they headed into the bedroom, not to make love this time but so he could sleep. The promise the kiss invoked floated between them, and Maya knew it wouldn’t be long at all until they shared the carnal delights she so loved – almost as much as she loved Ashton O’Neill.
Chapter Three
Ash’s house echoed with silence, a quiet so pervasive Maya would swea
r she could almost taste it on her tongue. Desmond’s plane departed on schedule and once it vanished into the early morning sky, next stop ShannonAirport, she treated Ash to breakfast at one of the old-fashioned diners tucked away between the shopping centers and malls. They lingered over the meal, talking about small things. Ash’s wistful smile indicated he’d miss his brother and by the time they finished another cup of the strong but delightful coffee, Maya thought he’d had enough of a first outing.
“Let me take you home,” she suggested. “Your eyes are drooping and it’s still early. You can go back to bed for awhile.”
“I’d rather go to bed with you,” Ash told her, his green eyes glistening with desire.
Her body quivered with a delicious erotic anticipation but Maya said, “Are you up for that?”
“If you’re gentle,” he told her with a soft smile. “There’s something I wanted to give you, too, and say. I enjoyed my brother’s visit, despite being shot, but now he’s out of the way, there are some things I’ve been planning to do.”
Maya ached to share his sensual pleasures, but she wanted to be practical too. And she didn’t want to cause Ash to suffer a setback. “If you’ll sleep, we’ll make love,” she told him.
“Woman, I’ll take your offer.”
An Emerald Heart Page 3
