Luck of the Irish

by Sara Humphreys

  He cradled her against him in a dominant, but protective, posture and nuzzled her ear with his lips. Hot, damp breath puffed against her neck and heightened her arousal, as did his growing need, which pressed against her back insistently. And when his hand began to wander over the swell of her hip and drifted between the juncture of her legs, she did not protest or attempt to push him aside.

  Hell, it was only a dream... so why not? She hadn’t had actual sex in over two years, so if dream sex was all she was getting she was taking it, especially with a gorgeous hunk of man like this.

  “I did not mean to scare ya, lass.” His voice, deep and low, surrounded her and rumbled in his chest. The vibrations thrummed through her wickedly. “Seems I’ll have to make it up to ya. Will ya allow me?”

  Maggie wanted to respond, to say something, but no words would come. Her mind and body were fogged but a fierce surge of lust. She nodded her agreement and bit her lower lip as he settled his hand between her legs, adding pressure to exactly the right spot. Maggie moaned, pleasure rippling through her, and kept her eyes closed allowing herself to float in the decadent wave of need.

  She felt wanton, lustful, and desired.

  Maggie opened her legs for him and allowed his fingers to drift along the heat of her sex, teasing her and tempting her with one wickedly slow stroke after another. But she needed more. She wanted his fingers on her flesh. Skin rushing against skin. Feeling bold and brazen, a far cry from her real life self, Maggie covered his masculine hand with hers. Shifting her body slightly to the left toward him she guided him past the waistband of her yoga pants and gasped when his talented fingers slid between her slick folds.

  He whispered something in Gaelic, a word or two she didn’t understand or couldn’t decipher from the swell of lust that fogged her mind. Maggie arched her back and reached behind her tangling her fingers in the silky, strands of his hair. He trailed kisses along her neck, the scruff of his beard rasping over her throat while massaging her clit in tiny, torturous circles.

  She pumped her hips as an orgasm coiled tightly and when he slipped two fingers deep in her channel Maggie cried out and clung to him. Her body seized with the powerful climax and he held her against his chest as she quaked and shuddered with tiny aftershocks.

  As the haze of the orgasm faded, the darkness gave way to the dim light of day...

  Maggie swiped at her sleepy eyes and briefly acknowledged that it was dark out and only the light from the hallway illuminated the small bedroom. How long had she been asleep? Her body still hummed from the effects of her dream. Damn, she must have had a lot more wine than she thought she did.

  She’d heard about sex dreams, but until now she’d never actually had one. Jeez. She barely ever had sex in real life. Only two sexual encounters that left her cold, and certainly neither of them compared to that. She stretched out on the bed in an almost feline like move, her limbs weak and deliciously rubbery from the single best dream of her life.

  She felt decadent and sexy and wonderfully sated. And she wanted more.

  “Damn,” she whispered, her arms flopping to her side. “Too bad that wasn’t real.”

  With her flesh tingling, a smile curved her lips while she tried to remember exactly what happened last night. She had wine. Hung the mirror... and then... there was a man...

  She was about to open her eyes when a deep and oddly familiar voice rumbled from the other side of the bed.

  “”Twas real enough.”

  “Holy shit,” Maggie screeched.

  She fell off the bed and tumbled onto the floor in an admittedly undignified move before scrambling to her feet. Staring at him open mouthed she pointed and backed away until the plaster wall halted her hasty retreat. The leprechaun, or man, or whatever he was, was lying on her bed like he belonged there. His perfectly shaped, muscular legs were crossed at his boot covered ankles, and his kilt had hiked up a bit threatening to reveal the answer about what a man wore under there. The old fashioned, blousy, white shirt was unlaced and lay open at the neck exposing the dark hair on his chest. Those blue-grey eyes glinted at her with mischief and he adjusted the pillow behind his back before folding his hands in his lap.

  “You... you’re not real,” she stammered. Panic swamped her along with the urge to run. “No freaking way. I’m still sleeping.”

  “As I said.” He smirked. “Real enough. Ya weren’t complain’ a few moments ago.”

  “I was asleep!” Maggie’s face heated with embarrassment recalling the intensely intimate moment that they’d obviously shared. “I couldn’t complain or agree, thank you very much.”

  “Ya could have stopped me, but I’ll say I’m pleased you didn’t.” He winked. “I been trapped in that damned mirror for over two hundred years and to say I missed the pleasures of the flesh would be wee bit of an understatement.” His cocky smirk faltered. “I didn’t think it would upset ya.”

  “Really?” Maggie puffed the hair from her face and smoothed her tank top as she inched her way around the bed. “Well, I don’t know where or when you’re from, buddy, but around here we ask women before we start—you know.” She waved a hand toward him. “Doing that.”

  “Apologies, but I thought ya were agreeable,” he said with a tilt of his head. “Did ya not like it?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “I disagree. If ya didn’t enjoy yourself I’ll have to remedy that, won’t I?” His voice dropped to a gentle, almost seductive tone. “’Tis the least I can do to thank you for freeing me.”

  “Right.” Maggie folded her arms over her breasts and forced herself to look him in the face. She wanted to study him and inspect every gorgeous inch because she could still feel his hands on her. She cleared her throat. “About that. Who are you... exactly?”

  “The name is Declan Ahearn.” He bowed in a surprisingly elegant move, and swept his arm toward her before turning those twinkling eyes back to her. “Leprechaun of the Fae.”

  “Maggie.” She licked her lower lip and waved weakly. “Maggie O’Malley. Regular girl of the... humans.”

  “Well, Maggie O’Malley, something tells me you are anything but regular. And since I came tumbling out that blasted mirror it’s a wee bit obvious that I’m not from a place or time you’re familiar with.”

  “You’re a leprechaun?” Maggie’s face scrunched up as she uttered the most ridiculous question she’d ever asked anyone in her life. “That is what you said, right?”

  “Aye.”

  “But you’re... huge.”

  “Aye,” he said slowly. His grin widened. “That’s what I hear.”

  “I thought leprechauns were little, tiny sprites.” Maggie tried to remain calm and act like she wasn’t talking to a guy who fell out of her mirror. “You know? About a foot tall.”

  “Some are.” Declan swung his legs over the side of the bed and rose to his feet. When Maggie stepped backward, he raised both hands in a sign of surrender. “I’ll not touch ya again unless ya ask me to. You’ll have to forgive me, but it’s been over two centuries since I’ve touched a beautiful woman and, well, ya smelled delightful. I couldn’t resist the temptation. ’Tis true that I am larger than most, but the wee leprechauns are the ones who tend to get caught. That’s where most of the stories come from. But we come in all shapes and sizes, darlin’.”

  Had he grown since he landed in her bedroom? The guy had to be about six foot four and towered over her five foot five frame. Maggie swallowed the lump in her throat and tried not to notice the rush of heat between her legs. What the hell was wrong with her?

  “Aren’t you supposed to be pining away for your long lost love, Anastasia?”

  “I pined plenty.” His brow furrowed and his words were edged with anger. “I can’t bring her back. Believe ya me; I would have... if a spell like that existed. How the hell do ya know about her or me, and where did ya get my amulet?”

  “Sorry,” Maggie said quietly. “My aunt gave me that necklace. She told me a story about the amulet
and a mirror and a leprechaun with a lost love, who I guess is you.” She instantly regretted bringing up his dead wife and the wounded expression on his face only made it worse. “You just surprised me. I mean, I did what she said to do in the story, but I sure as shit didn’t expect it to work. Well, and then that thing that happened between us when we were kind of sleeping. Let’s just say my social graces are less than par at the moment.” She nibbled her lower lip. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that about your wife.”

  An awkward silence hung between them for a few moments. His serious gaze drifted over her slowly from head to toe as though he was finally seeing her for the first time. Maggie grabbed her pink sweater off the chair by the desk. She pulled it on, needing to cover herself up. This guy had her feeling more exposed and vulnerable than anyone else she’d ever met.

  “I thank you for releasing me from Malachi’s spell.” He took two steps toward her, the light from the moon shining over him through the window. His eyes flashed silver and his voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “I’ll take me amulet and be on my way.”

  “That’s it? You come flying out of my mirror, accuse me of coming to kill you and then get, shall we say, personal with me in my bed and end of story?” Maggie asked with more than a little incredulity. “You’re leaving?”

  “Aye.” He reached toward the mirror for the amulet, but Maggie stepped in front of him blocking his path. “I’ll be needin’ that.”

  “Wait a minute. I’ve been hearing the story about you, Malachi, Anastasia, the mirror and the amulet my entire life, never really believing it was real.” She held up one hand when he started toward the mirror again. “And now you’re actually here. This whole fairy tale is true, and you just want to leave without telling me anything?”

  “Aye.”

  “Typical,” she huffed. Declan stared at her with a calm expression that made her want to smack the shit out of him. “You might be a fairy leprechaun man but at the heart of it you’re still a man who won’t talk about anything.”

  A puzzled expression covered his face. “What do ya want to know?”

  “Jeez,” Maggie said with frustration. “I wish you’d cut the crap and tell me where you plan on going and how you plan on getting there? Because I’m willing to bet you have no money, and if you walk around New York with that sword on your back you’ll draw a little attention to yourself. Why did the amulet release you and why did I end up with it? Are you going to find your daughter? Kill Malachi? Something. I want some answers, dude.”

  “Alright then.” His mouth set in a tight line and he nodded curtly. “The amulet is the source of my power in the mortal dimension. It allows me to travel between dimensions, among other things, and was passed to me by my father. There is only one other like it, which I created and then left with my child. I am going to find out what’s become of her and then I’m off to pay a visit to the warlock who banished me to the mirrored realm for more than two hundred years. If he’s not already dead, that is.”

  “I see.” Maggie looked him up and down and nodded. “Thank you.”

  He was going to leave and the idea of it sent a flicker of panic through her chest. If he left then it was all over and done with. She’d be alone again. Alone in her boring life with her shitty job.

  “Don’t I get your gold now?” She asked, the words tumbling from her lips before she even realized it. He raised his arm to get the amulet but she stopped him again, her hand resting on his forearm briefly before snatching it away. “Or three wishes. I get three wishes if I don’t want your gold. Right? Isn’t that what a leprechaun has to do for the person who frees him?”

  “Ya wee minx.” His eye narrowed and he lowered his arm slowly. “Not so unfamiliar with leprechauns and magic are ya?”

  Maggie shrugged and made a non-committal sound of agreement.

  “Well, then.” He took one step nearer and stood taller, obviously trying to intimidate her. “Ya can’t have me gold. Would seem you’ve been misinformed. A leprechaun gives his gold freely... when he’s good and ready.”

  “Fine.” Maggie settled her hands on her hips and met his challenging stare. There was no way she was backing down from him or the chance at a real live adventure. “I’ll take the three wishes.”

  “Alright then.” A grin cracked his handsome face and he ran one hand over his beard before settling his hands on his hips. “Ya have two remaining.”

  “What?” Maggie gaped at him. “But that’s—”

  “Ya wished I would tell ya what I was doin’ and I did.”

  “Damn it.” She pursed her lips and poked him in the chest. It was hard as stone. Jeez. Did this guy have fat anywhere on his body? “You tricked me.”

  “Ya don’t know everything about us leprechauns, now do ya?” He leaned close, the scent of rain and earth filled her head making her dizzy. “We’re known for being tricksters or the like.”

  “Fine.” Maggie didn’t retreat but held her ground and resisted the urge to touch him again. “I know what I want for my second wish.”

  “Out with it.” Declan arched one dark brow and waited. “I have to be on my way.”

  “I wish... ” Maggie licked her lower lip and fought for the courage to utter her deepest, darkest desire. “... That you would take me with you.”

  Declan’s expression darkened and he growled, “Mac soith.”

  Maggie didn’t know what exactly he said in Gaelic, but she was relatively certain it wasn’t awesome.

  “Looks like leprechauns aren’t the only ones who can be tricky, eh Declan?” She moved closer so her body was only a few inches from his. Popping up on her toes, Maggie whispered, “Like my Aunt Lizzie always said, don’t mess with an O’Malley.”

  Chapter Five

  Declan stared at the tiny, human woman and swore again in Gaelic. It was rare for a leprechaun to be outsmarted by anyone, let alone a mortal, but this lass had sure as hell done it. He studied her delicate features and breathed in her flowery scent, the one of roses and jasmine. The very aroma that bewitched him in his sleepy state. He hadn’t planned on seducing her, but there was something about her that drew him in, called to him in a way he hadn’t experienced since... Anastasia.

  Guilt had filled him when he realized what he’d done. Declan felt as though he’d betrayed his wife even though she’d been gone for centuries. It was a ridiculous notion and yet that did not make it less real. He vowed to keep his promise to the woman and not lay another hand on her unless she invited it, and he suspected she’d not be asking any time soon.

  Perhaps, if he’d not been so deliciously distracted by her beauty, innocence and vulnerability he might have realized what she was going to wish for. Yet nothing could be done now, for she’d made her wish and it was his duty to honor it.

  “As ya wish,” he said firmly. “But I’ll not be responsible for ya. Are we clear, lass? You’ll have to handle yourself and whatever may come our way. And if we do get into a dodgy situation I’ll be sendin’ ya back to this dimension so fast it’ll make your pretty head spin.”

  “This dimension?” She asked with a healthy amount of fear. “There are other dimensions? Where are we going?”

  Good. Declan thought. If she had enough sense to be a tad fearful then maybe she’d keep herself out of harm’s way. With any luck she’d rescind her wish, and even though he was eager to leave he thought it best to take his time on the chance the lass would change her mind. The fae dimension was no place for a mortal.

  He was about to tell her exactly where they’d be going when a rumble in his belly stopped him from speaking. Hunger, stark and sharp, rang through him painfully. He groaned and instinctively laid a hand over his gut when the long forgotten sensation robbed him of speech.

  “Hungry?” Maggie said with a laugh.

  “Would seem so,” Declan groused. “We have to be goin’ but my stomach is demanding food.”

  “Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes and snatched the amulet from the mirror, immediatel
y holding it against her breast. “All you have to do is ask. I’ll make you something to eat and you can tell me more about where on Earth we’re going.”

  Before he could stop her, she slipped the chain around her neck and placed the gold disc beneath her sweater. Declan growled in protest when she took his amulet, but the woman was undeterred and swept past him.

  “I’ll be takin’ that now.” He leveled a serious glare in her direction. “That belongs to me.”

  “Actually, it belongs to me, At least it did for the past year or so. Relax, dude. I’ll give you back the amulet after you tell me more about your world, and then we can go.” She stopped in the doorway and nodded toward the hall. “Come on. The food is this way.”

  Speechless and ravenous, Declan stood there for a moment and stared at the empty doorway. He could force her to give him the amulet, but opted against it. If he was going to try and convince Maggie to stay here and out of the fae dimension, she damn well had to trust him. Besides, he rather liked her spirit. The women of his time were not as outspoken, save for Anastasia. Her direct nature and feisty spirit were what drew him to her, in spite of the disapproval he knew their pairing would receive.

  But this woman wasn’t Anastasia. She’s neither witch nor a fae. She was a mortal and not of his world. She, like Anastasia, was not meant for him.

  ***

  Declan scarfed down his third plate of eggs and bacon in record time and polished off an entire loaf of bread. Maggie didn’t know whether to be grossed out or impressed, but she was leaning toward impressed. Declan made sounds of appreciation as he shoveled the last bite of food into his mouth. His fork clattered onto the empty plate before he leaned back in the small, wooden chair in her kitchen that seemed suddenly much smaller, and let out the loudest belch Maggie had ever heard.

  Then he looked at her like he’d given her a bouquet of flowers.

  “That ’twas delightful, darlin’!” He swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned broadly. “Best meal I’ve had in years.”