Locked!
No! No. No. No. Not today, please, not today. Where was the bloody key? Quickly surveying the nails and hooks nearby, she realised there was no key to be seen. Christ in heaven. What to do? She spied the hallstand with its collection of walking sticks and umbrellas, and grabbed the nearest to hand: a sturdy hand-carved wooden one – it would have to do. Kicking off her shoes, she slid quietly along the polished floor to hide behind the closed kitchen door. If that bastard came through she’d be ready . . .
There was a slight but muffled noise from the direction of the kitchen, then quiet. She watched, terrified, as the handle began to turn and slowly the door opened. As the figure emerged, she leapt forwards, swinging her weapon like a baseball bat and whacking it against the back of her intruder. She hit so hard that she fell forwards as she heard an almighty roar from her victim and they both fell to the ground. She was instantly grabbed and whipped round so that she lay beneath her attacker. Eyes scrunched up, she opened her mouth to scream . . .
“What in bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” Devlin shouted angrily down at Frankie. “That bloody hurt!” Still grasping her arms to her sides, he glared at the terrified woman below him. “You’re a bloody lunatic!”
“I . . . I . . . Dev, he . . . he was . . . he . . .” Nothing else came out of her mouth as Frankie began to realise she wasn’t in immediate danger.
“Who’s he? What are you on about? Jesus! that was some wallop. What the hell were you thinking?”
Letting go of one arm, he raised his own up gingerly to feel round the back of his neck.
Frankie’s breathing was slowing but she was still finding it hard to concentrate. “Dev, he . . . was there, in the shop, and he . . . he followed me. I think he followed me. He just stared and . . .” She stopped as tears swam and she saw a look of understanding dawning on Dev’s face.
He eased off her and sat up, pulling her with him. “Hey, slow down now and tell me everything. It’s okay, babe, you’re safe. Shh, now, you’re safe. Do you hear me?” He gently turned her face towards his and brushed her tears away with his thumb.
He gathered her up on his lap and leaned back against the wall, rocking her slightly as he gently stroked her hair, soothing her. It seemed like this was getting to be a habit.
They sat there on the hall floor for what could have been an hour, for all Frankie knew, but was really only a few minutes. Gradually, she became aware of her surroundings and the realisation that Dev was with her allowed her breathing to calm. She took a moment to practise her breathing exercises and then rested her head against his chest. His bare chest. Bare? Oh my God, he was just back from swimming and only had a pair of denim shorts on.
She lay against him, trying not to take in the lovely fresh smell of him, trying not to breathe in the saltiness from his dewy skin. His chest was liberally sprinkled with dark hair but was otherwise toned and muscular. He felt safe. Well, no, that was a big lie. He didn’t feel safe, at all. He felt dangerous.
She turned her head slightly. Her lips rested against his skin. I wonder . . . Would he taste all salty if I lick him right now? she thought idly. Good God! Where did that come from? Lick him? That’s not the kind of woman she was but suddenly she wanted to do a lot more than that. She wanted to taste him. Devour him. She stirred uncomfortably, feeling all hot and bothered suddenly, and he loosened his death grip on her.
“Hey there, are you okay?” His voice was rough and low and odd-sounding.
“Mmm hmm,” she replied, aware now that the hammering of her heart was in fact duelling with the beat coming from his chest.
Slowly, she raised her head to meet the unwavering gaze of Dev’s intense blue eyes – not remotely icy but smouldering, causing goose bumps along her arms. She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly parched.
His eyes immediately directed themselves to her moist, full lower lip. His eyes not leaving her lips, he lowered his head, his intention obvious, his course clear. Slow enough to give her time to move or turn or . . .
His mouth was hot and it simply enveloped hers. His hands moved to hold her head in position as his lips and tongue worked their magic on her. She gasped and tried to draw breath, but instead drew him further into her moist and eager mouth. Dear God. Her stomach turned somersaults, her pulse hammered and she entwined her tongue with his as if she were born to it.
He shifted her on his lap and she was conscious of his hardened length beneath her. It felt liberating to have this kind of power over this man, to make him feel like this, to make his body react with need. Dev dragged his mouth from hers and angled kisses along her jaw and down her throat, groaning as he nipped and sucked his way towards her collarbone.
“God, oh, God,” he murmured roughly. “I’ll never get enough of you.” His tongue snaked along her slender neck and then found its way back to invade her waiting mouth once more.
He slid his hands over her shoulders and down her arms and back, grazing the sides of her breasts through her T-shirt. Rearing back, he grabbed the hem of her top and yanked it up and over her head, her arms moving upwards, helpless at his unspoken command.
“Jesus,” he mumbled as her beautiful breasts, encased in burgundy lace, were just there, in front of him.
He’d seen her in bikinis and swimsuits over the years, but there was something so intimate, so stirring, about those pearly globes dressed in lace. He bent his head reverently and licked his way across the tops, the texture on his tongue causing his stomach to jitter as she inhaled swiftly.
Her hands reached up and gripped his shoulders. He didn’t know if she was holding on for dear life or preparing to push him away, but her hands simply held on as she absorbed what was happening. Dev pulled one strap off her shoulder, allowing him more room to slide the lacy fabric easily from her pebbled nipple.
Within seconds, his hot mouth was on her and the groans that came from both of them echoed around the hallway. His teeth grazed backwards and forwards over the tip, bit gently, his tongue swirling around the areola, taking away the sting.
More groans and gasps emitted from both as Dev shifted again, rubbing himself instinctively against her softness, driving on a desperate need in himself. He transferred his attention to her other breast, not bothering to lower the lace but instead sucking the defined peak through its intricate pattern.
“Oh, God, Dev, don’t stop. That feels . . . amazing.” Frankie sputtered the words as she moved in his grasp, her thighs squeezing together.
One of Dev’s hands anchored her neck so he could invade her mouth again, while the other moulded and kneaded her bare breast as if he’d never felt this particular body part in his life. It was like he was discovering it for the first time. And he was captivated as he tasted and learned the mouth of the woman who was every man’s wet dream, every red-blooded man’s fantasy. And she was here wrapped in his arms, kissing him back as if she, too, was trying something new. Him. He couldn’t get enough of her.
The reality of this woman and all she’d been through sunk in and he softened his touch, gliding his tongue in a more languorous, indolent manner, thinking to slow things down.
But as she adjusted her own tongue and matched him, stroke for stroke, his blood felt like it would boil over. His heart was thundering and his cock was straining in his shorts, hard and throbbing and eager.
He tried to get his thoughts, such as they were, in order, tried to remember that Frankie had had a shock of some kind and was probably reacting in an unpredictable way. Tried to remember that he’d sworn he wouldn’t take advantage. Tried to remember . . . to think, not feel.
He slowly disengaged his tongue and, equally slowly, pressed soft and gentle kisses along her still-open mouth, trying to regulate his breathing while sending messages to his nether regions to call a halt as he rallied and tried to put Frankie and her feelings first.
He pulled away and looked directly into her eyes. Tipping his head forwards, he rested his forehead against hers and, hoping his voice was stea
dy, spoke to her.
“We need to call a bit of a halt here, sweetheart. Much as I’d like to kiss you for the next few hours, we need to talk about what happened to you earlier. Can you tell me what happened?”
“What happened?” For a moment Frankie was disoriented as her heart slowed to close to normal.
She became aware that she and Dev were sprawled half-naked on the hall floor of the Fitzgeralds’ lodge. Mortification and embarrassment rose within her. She slid off Dev’s lap and scrambled for her T-shirt. Pulling it quickly over her head, leaving her bra partly on, partly off, she reached up to use a chair rail to haul her shaking legs to standing. He quickly followed suit, reaching out to grab the offending weapon – the wooden walker she’d hit him with. He hefted it in his hand and dared to shoot her a glance.
Her cheeks flushed as she stared at the heavy stick and the realisation that she could have done serious damage came home to her in a rush.
“Come on, hot, sweet tea with a drop of the hard stuff to set you to rights.” Dev grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him into the kitchen, where he plonked her on a chair and busied himself making the tea.
Set me to rights? Christ in a handbasket! Would she ever be “right” again? Frankie raised a shaky hand to try to fix her hair as everything swirled, mixed and jumbled about in her head. Shaky? Yes, she was pretty damn shaky, but whether that was because of the Larry situation or what had just happened, right next door, there, in the hall, she couldn’t honestly say.
She glanced towards the hall, half expecting the steam still to be rising from the floor. Dev pottered about with mugs and tea bags and seemed perfectly calm – how did he do that? She knew he’d been at least as affected as she was. She’d felt it. She’d felt him. Maybe her lack of experience in these matters made it seem, well . . . more? Oh, God, she dropped her head into her hands. I’m such a bloody fool! I take every damn thing so seriously – will I never learn that I’m just different?
“Here, babe.” Dev handed her a steaming mug of tea topped with a good splash of whiskey. He pulled out the chair opposite and took a deep swallow from his own.
Frankie immediately studied his throat as it moved – she’d just kissed him there not five minutes ago . . . Oh, for God’s sake! Could she not even look at him any more without thinking about what his body tasted like? She was doomed! She averted her eyes towards her tea and sipped.
Dev raised his eyebrow, perhaps wondering what kind of weirdo she was, but all he said was, “Well?” Then he sat back and waited till she told him everything that had happened from when she drove back into town.
He listened without interrupting – a first for him, she had to admit – but as she finished her story with her waiting behind the door to clatter the intruder, she stuttered to a stop.
“Hmm. That sucks,” he said then reached out to grab his phone.
Pressing a number, he held it to his ear, his long, tapered fingers drumming the table as he awaited a reply.
“Yo, Bro. Frankie needs to talk to you.” He handed his mobile to her. “Tell Flynn everything you told me.”
She took the phone hesitantly and launched into another telling of her afternoon’s adventure. She described, on Flynn’s questioning, every detail of Larry’s appearance: clothing, hair, eyes, height, et cetera. Or at least as much as she could recall. Then she explained he’d been on a tour bus with her new pal, Mary Louanne. She eventually hung up and handed the phone back to Dev.
“He wants me to ask Mary Louanne about Larry and get her to tell me anything she knows. Then I’m to relate it to the local Garda. Flynn’s contacting them now.” She got up and walked about the room, chilled suddenly, her arms wrapped about her body. “What the hell does he want with me? I’ve never met him before, or at least not that I can remember.” She met his eyes. “Maybe that’s the problem, maybe I did meet him and have forgotten him and that makes him angry. God, that sounds like diva talk, doesn’t it?” She tried a laugh that was almost convincing but Dev, blast him, knew better.
Dev pushed himself to his feet. “Come on,” he said, grabbing her arm, “upstairs, take a shower and we’re going up to Kings for a Pint.” Before she could interject a refusal, he said, “Hopefully, we’ll run into Mary Louanne and you can give her the third degree on Mr Weirdo, Larry. Okay?” He angled her towards the stairs.
He gave her a shove upwards and she mumbled an “Okay, all right, Mr Bossy Boots.”
But it didn’t matter – it was giving her something to do, something positive, and this time, at least, he’d be with her.
They walked into town. It was weird at first, walking along side by side, not touching, not talking. And then somehow it wasn’t.
Dev pointed out an unusual cloud formation and suggested it looked like a donkey’s head. Naturally, Frankie disagreed with him and before long, every cloud had a named shape and they were both laughing at their choices.
The evening was, as they say in Ireland, drawing in and there was a chill in the air. Fleeces tied around their waists were donned and they even jogged a little, Dev going backwards so he could make faces at Frankie.
At one point she blurted, “You’re such a big baby!” And laughed at his pretend horrified reaction. But all that came to Frankie’s mind when she watched those beautiful teeth appear was his hot, devouring mouth on hers and the sure knowledge that this silly backwards jogger in front of her was more man than she’d ever known.
Despite the early evening hour, Kings was packed. Dev hustled up to the bar and ordered a pint and a glass of Guinness, two whiskey chasers and two packets of Tayto crisps – just your typical pub fare. He tossed the crisps where she waited near the door and she headed out to find a seat in the cool air. Guinness has to settle before being topped off, so Dev came out with the shots first and told her Jimmy Jr would bring the drinks when ready.
She wrapped her fleece tightly around her and ripped open the packet. Crunching away, she texted Mary Louanne to come and join them if she was free. Frankie knew her schedule changed and that sometimes Mary Louanne headed off to different places, exploring the countryside. She seemed to latch on to any American visitors and would go about with them for a couple of days at a time then return to Clifden and do a few more days’ work. Frankie had no clue how she was funding herself and didn’t feel it was her place to ask. Theirs was a comfortable relationship, not too invasive and yet, well, comfortable.
At the oddest moments Frankie thought she recognised something familiar in Mary Louanne, but it was nothing she could put her finger on. They’d discussed places they’d been but had never actually crossed paths or been in the same place at the same time. Frankie had usually shrugged off these moments but decided that after this evening, when Dev met her later, if Mary Louanne turned up, she’d ask him if Mary Louanne looked like one of the locals. Maybe Dev would see a resemblance or a connection she was missing.
Jimmy appeared with their drinks and as they passed on their thanks she noticed her name scrawled on the top, embedded in the creamy head.
“Aw, thanks, Jimmy.” She smiled at him and then peeped over to see Dev’s name written into his, too. “I love the way he does that.” She smiled again.
“Why, what on earth are you two smiling at?” The voice alone heralded Mary Louanne’s arrival before she dumped her bags all around her.
She propped her chin in her hand and batted her eyelashes – false, for sure – at Dev, practically ignoring Frankie. Dev dutifully showed her his pint and she oohed and aahed in admiration. As she settled herself on the chair, Frankie decided to get right to the point.
“Have you heard from your travelling companion, Larry, at all?”
“Why, darlin’, what an odd question! Why on earth would I ever be hearing from good ole Larry?” She looked puzzled.
“No reason.”
Dev and Frankie exchanged looks.
“I just thought I saw him here in Clifden today and wondered if he’d contacted you.”
“Why
, you must surely be mistaken! I’m pretty darn sure he took the bus to Kerry with the others weeks ago.” Mary Louanne took a handful of crisps from the open packet and munched away. “I’m just lovin’ these chips y’all have here,” she said, ending the Larry conversation.
But Frankie wasn’t finished.
“Do you know anything about Larry?” she asked. “His last name, where he’s from, was he travelling alone? Anything at all.” She looked appealingly towards the other woman.
“Why, now you have me all curious! Why ever do you want to know?” Mary Louanne wasn’t giving anything away. If, indeed, she knew anything.
“Well, do you have the name of the bus tour so I can contact them? Larry dropped his wallet and I’d like to get it back to him,” she improvised wildly, studiously ignoring Dev’s raised eyebrow. “There was quite a lot of cash inside, so I guess he’ll need it.” She took a gulp of her drink and waited, wiping the creamy head from her lip with her tongue.
Dev almost knocked the crisp bag off the table and made a wild dash to collect it before they emptied to the ground. Mary Louanne’s eyes narrowed.
“Why, surely there was some identification inside the wallet? Did y’all check for that?”
“Um …” Caught in her lie, Frankie stumbled for a second. “No, no ID inside, which I have to say I thought was strange,” she gabbled. “But no worries, I’ll just drop it over to the Garda station in the morning,” she said, taking another sip of Guinness, “and see what they have to say. Thanks, anyway.”
Mary Louanne took Frankie’s occupation with her drink to study Dev sipping his. “Why, Mr Handsome, did Frankie here tell you she thinks she knows me from somewhere? Isn’t that a blast! Do you think I look familiar?” She angled her chin up and turned her face this way and that for Dev’s benefit.
“Can’t say I do,” he began without really looking at her features. Suddenly noticing her eyes hardening, he took another look. He reached over and took the proffered chin in his hand, holding it gently. “Let me take a closer look.” He oozed charm as he thickened his accent slightly. “Can’t say that you look like anyone I know, Ms Mary Louanne, and I can assure you I’d remember a beauty such as yourself.” He grinned impishly as he returned to his drink, thinking she did remind him of someone, but he’d no idea who. Hmm, strange. Frankie certainly had a good eye.
Family Affairs Page 11