Getting Lucky in Galway
Allie Standifer
Erotic Escapes, Book Five
Calder loves Galway, but one local seems determined to drive her crazy. Every female cat shifter worth her whiskers knows it’s the chase that leads to the best mates. But Calder’s not certain she wants to be caught.
Roark’s been told love is grand, love is all a man needs to find happiness. Personally he’d rather live his immortal life as a pleasure-seeking, trouble-stirring leprechaun. He’s doing just that until fate steps in and everything changes.
Calder and Roark are helpless to the desires of their hearts and the passionate needs of their bodies. Because once a male fae and a female lion shifter sense their mates, they can’t keep their hands, or paws, off each other. Now neither can wait to get lucky in Galway.
A Romantica® paranormal erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
Getting Lucky in Galway
Allie Standifer
Prologue
“Calder, dear, please stop pacing and listen to me.” A soft, ageless hand reached up to tug the agitated woman off her feet.
“I don’t understand, Aunt Dora. Why should I travel halfway around the world to meet someone? I can easily meet men here in Louisiana. Baton Rouge isn’t exactly a one-horse town. Not to mention Texas is just a few hours away so there’s always Beaumont or Houston to meet men. Not fricking Ireland, land of gifted liars and wee people obsessed with fixing shoes and hoarding gold.”
“Calder Douget, you close your mouth right now. That is no way for a lady to speak and especially in front of her godmother.” Dora patted her perfectly pinned up silver hair while smoothing down her unwrinkled pleated linen pants. “Besides, that tale of leprechauns is absolutely asinine.”
“Sorry,” Calder mumbled before throwing herself down on the antique fainting couch. She hated this piece of furniture. What woman in her right mind would choose to pass out on such an uncomfortable couch? “Dora, what the hel—heck are you thinking sending me to Ireland? I’m a Southern girl, my blood’s too thin to survive the cold over there.”
“Quit fussing, dear, it’ll give you wrinkles.” Dora poured a perfect cup of tea, adding two lumps of brown sugar and a dollop of real cream before handing the cup over.
Years of etiquette lessons had Calder’s back straightening, her legs unfolding only to tuck one ankle behind the other. “Thank you,” she responded automatically, waiting for the other woman to sip her beverage before taking a drink of her own.
A delicate clink of china signaled her brief reprieve was over. “Now, Calder, you know I wouldn’t do anything not in your best interest, don’t you?”
Well, shit, when put that way she didn’t have a choice but to agree with the older woman. “Yes ma’am.”
“Ireland is not the end of the world, dear. It’s simply where you need to be to find what you’re looking for. In fact, you might find some of the local history very colorful. You love spooky and haunted places.” Dora dangled the bait and Calder swallowed it hook, line and sinker. “There are several castles near Limerick including Leap Castle. It’s reportedly the most haunted castle in Ireland. Though I hear it’s privately owned now, the new owners offer tours and storytelling on some nights with a real tale-teller.”
Tale-teller was her godmother’s old-fashioned term for minstrel or storyteller. Sometimes the older woman seemed to be caught up in a middle-aged time warp. But still, her interest was piqued and, despite her internal alarms shrieking, Calder found herself moving forward. “Why? What happened to make it so haunted?”
Dora sat back in her perfect condition Louis XIV chair, set her cup down and folded her hands in her lap. “Let me see…” She tapped a perfectly manicured finger against her elegantly smooth chin. “I do know once upon a time it was the stronghold of the vicious O’Carroll family. Nasty group of people who should never have been given so much power with so little knowledge or common sense. They didn’t have a clue of what to do with it or themselves. Tragic, really. Around the sixteenth century the head of the family invited his extended family, including the poorer relations from rural areas, to a huge banquet. However, when the guests sat down to dinner, the bloodthirsty O’Carroll slaughtered every one of them. Though slaughtering innocents and guilty alike was pretty common back then, this family pretty much made it into an art form. Just accepting a dinner invitation was risking your own life.”
“Pretty much like coming to my daddy’s crawfish boil and not bringing dessert or beer?” Calder’s lips quirked up at the analogy because even though times changed her Southern born and bred father never would. He’d been raised to believe proper guests brought gifts to show their gratitude and friendship. To show up empty-handed was an insult and the height of disrespect, according to her daddy.
“Your father may not be my favorite person, but comparing him to the lawless and power-hungry O’Carroll clan is a bit much. Especially considering Revyn Douget never slaughtered his family.”
Nausea rose in Calder’s stomach at the thought. “Oh wow.” She swallowed before trying to speak again. “Yeah, I guess Daddy does coming out smelling like a rose.”
“More than, considering sometime after the 1530s the Laird died, no one knows from what or how, and a bloodthirsty inter-clan war broke out. Every brother wanted to rule so they fought each other for leadership. It’s even said one Teige O’Carroll killed his own priestly brother as he said Mass in the chapel.”
“Yikes.” Calder might fight with them and occasionally smack her brothers on the head, but through all their fights she never doubted their love or loyalty.
Lips the color of coral pursed in thought before Dora spoke again. “Then there’s the matter of the oubliette hidden behind a wall of the castle chapel. The room was filled wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling with bodies. They say the spirits of those trapped in that hideous room continue to haunt the castle looking for justice that will never come.”
“Oh that’s horrible, Aunt Dora.” A shiver worked its way down Calder’s spine at the image her godmother painted. The story might pain her heart and make her stomach twist, but she couldn’t help the sick fascination growing inside her. “But I’ll be sure to book a tour.”
“That’s what I thought, dear. You have your father’s lack of common sense when it comes to things that should scare you. And too much fear with the things you should embrace,” Dora gently admonished her even as she patted Calder’s hand.
“Okay, Limerick, Ireland,” Calder turned the conversation away from topics neither one of them could win. “What, when and for how long?”
“Of course 501 will pay for your travel arrangements and put you up in a nice cottage.”
Calder’s head already shook in denial. “Thanks, Aunt Dora, but I have my own money and my own job. I can pay my own way.” Being a green architect didn’t make her rich, but it kept her more than comfortable. Plus, she got the bonus of working for herself and making her own hours.
“Calder, don’t argue with your elder. It’s rude. Besides, Fanny, Flo and I already discussed this and we simply must insist. We have no idea how long you’ll be there and why should you be out funds when this is truly is a favor for the three of us?”
Suspicion reared its ugly head. “Where are the other two aunts? It’s not like them to keep their tiny but busy noses out of my business.”
For the first time since Calder stepped foot in her godmother’s home, Dora looked uneasy. She even unbent enough to nibble on her bottom lip before remembering her impeccable manners. “They are attending to another important matter. Now, Calder, I have all your information in a packet downstairs. Follow me and we’ll make sure everything is in order before you leave in two days.”
“Two days?” Her favorite aunt had finally lost her mind. “Dora, there is no way I can possibly leave the country right now. I’ve—”
“Later, dear,” Dora interrupted her before wrapping a slim hand around Calder’s wrist and pulling the younger woman after her. “You’ve got all the time in the world to come up with excuses neither myself nor my sisters will buy. For now we’ve got details we need to work out. Let’s get busy.”
Chapter One
“Thanks for the ride, Pat.” Calder slipped out of the truck and closed the door. She waited until the truck passed out of sight before leaning over and tossing up the `contents of her stomach.
“Never, never, never,” she swore once her stomach settled. “Never again! Haunted castles can go hang themselves. Along with all the fucking ghosts who think it’s fun to tug a lion’s tail.”
As she’d promised her aunt, Calder made time to see the local sights, which included a number of castles and ruins. What she hadn’t counted on was the effect haunted historical sights had on her. Or more specifically on her cat. Her poor lion paced inside her body, growing more and more uncomfortable the longer they spent in these places.
Finally pleading a headache to her host, Calder managed to catch a ride out of Leap Castle and away from the gracious owners and their menagerie of spirits. The only good part to the trip so far was the boisterous, generous locals who dug deeper into her heart every day.
The twisted acid feeling in her stomach subsided enough to contemplate popping into the pub for a quick drink and dose of local gossip. She’d argue with Liam over the difference between an American and a damn Yankee, something her Southern roots demanded she correct every chance she got.
She’d taken two steps to the pub when the cheery ring of her cell phone had her reaching into the pockets of her old and comfortable jeans. A quick look at the screen almost had her rolling her eyes.
“Hello, Aunt Dora.”
“Going into the local pub tonight, dear?”
Her aunt never settled for polite social chitchat, instead driving straight to the point. Lovely habit most of the time, but at others it would be nice to ease into whatever fresh plot the older woman had devised.
“I’m doing great, Auntie D, though it’s chilly here and seems to rain more than it doesn’t, but thanks so much for asking.”
A huff of irritation slid through the international line. “I know you’re fine, Calder. You know you’re fine, so why waste time asking things both of us know? Now are you going to the pub tonight or not?”
“It was the plan, but now…” Deliberately she let the sentence trail off, knowing how much it would irritate Dora. Her new goal in life was to irritate her dead mother’s best friend.
“Don’t be difficult, Calder, it’s beneath you.”
“Not much is beneath me these days, Aunt Dora,” she responded, thinking how true the statement was. She hadn’t been naked with a male in more time than she cared to admit. The only blessing of the mate bond was females didn’t go into heat until after they met the man who would take care of all their needs.
“Then a nice drink and some warm stew will fix you up right,” her aunt trilled on, oblivious to Calder’s snarky remark. “Be sure to tell Liam I said hello and watch out for the rake, dear.”
Without missing a beat, Calder stepped around the short garden rake left in the mud. The small handle would have tripped her and landed Calder right on her face in a rather large, watery puddle. “Thanks, Aunt D.”
She didn’t question the tidy lady’s queer talents. To do so would open a can of worms Calder doubted she’d ever understand or accept. Better to leave sleeping dogs, or in her case cats, lie.
“Not a problem, go enjoy your evening and call me with an update in a few days. Also Fanny is very much looking forward to reading your report on the local color, especially the ghost sightings. She’s a closet spirit junkie.”
A chilled laugh spilled out of Calder’s chapped lips. “Yeah, okay. Tell her I’ll send the report sometime tomorrow along with the pictures and local flavor you asked for.”
Air kisses exchanged, Calder stuffed the phone in her pocket then yanked the heavy, dark wood door open. And almost stopped in her booted tracks at the sight that met her.
Hooded eyes met her gaze as she watched the stranger sitting comfortably at her accustomed spot. The leather, after six weeks, had molded to her unique ass shape
“Tried to warn the foreigner away, Calder, but like any damn stubborn Yankee, this one don’t listen worth a darn.”
Seamus, the old pub owner, lifted a bright red brow in her direction. Anticipation glittered in his clever green eyes as he waited for her response. The man seriously loved his drama.
“Right shame to throw a perfectly good stranger out in the rain,” she said, rolling her shoulders as she slipped her thick jacket off. “But if we don’t preserve tradition then what’s the point?”
“Ah, you’ve the right of it, Calder, me darlin’. Tradition must be respected no matter who or what you are.”
“Yep,” old Liam broke in with his thoughts from his permanent perch to the right of the peat fire. Thick white whiskers covered his wrinkled, pale face and wind-reddened cheeks. “Ya think the foreign fellow will show some manners or not?”
Calder grinned, unable to stop herself. Everyone in Seamus’ pub knew the stranger was listening to every word they spoke and still they didn’t care and continued as if he were not. She loved the shameless, sneaky conniving Irishmen and women. People truly after her feline heart.
“Tell me, Liam, was I so obvious when I arrived?” she asked even though she knew what his answer would be.
Vivid, intelligent green eyes twinkled below bushy gray eyebrows that looked like two caterpillars mating. “Of course not, darlin’, ya were the picture of all that is good and proper. Nary a problem with ya since then either.”
Swallowing her laughter, Calder wondered when the old coot changed his selective memory to put her in such a flattering light. “If I recall correctly,” she drawled, letting the flavor and heat of the Louisiana bayou roll off her tongue. “You about had a heart attack at the thought of some Rebel gal staying near you and yours.”
Never one to back down from a fight, imaginary or real, Liam’s stooped shoulders straightened in a fighter’s stance. A long draw from the pint in front of him and her one-time nemesis was ready for their frequent battle of wits.
Before either one of them could volley their first strike, a new, low voice broke in. “Wouldn’t it be simpler if you asked me to move?”
Calder blinked, shocked at the simple question while her mouth opened and closed for several seconds as her brain tried to form a coherent thought.
“Could be both of you are too stubborn and easy to rile, which is why I’m vacating said seat and any middle position in your wee skirmish.”
“Now see here—”
“But we weren’t—”
Calder and Liam protested jointly, but none of their words had any effect on the handsome stranger.
“By all means,” he swept a hand out to indicate the time-worn leather barstool in a gallant gesture, “the seat is yours, as is the company.” Fluid movements saw his jacket tugged on and a few bills tossed carelessly on the shiny bar before the stranger headed out the door.
Calder had to make one last attempt. A not so steady hand gently pulled him to a stop as he passed by her. “Look, I’m sorry and so is Liam. We’re both a little ornery. We shouldn’t have pulled you into our game. Please say you’ll forgive us, then stay and have a pint on us.”
He turned to her, this stranger causing her trouble, at least trouble to her hormones, and Calder’s knees almost buckled in shock as lust and a profound sense of completion slammed into her. Eyes the most intense shade of green she’d ever seen or even imagined looked back at her with only a faint trace of amusement.
Oh please, Calder prayed silently, don’t let him be the one, even though she knew it was already too late.
Power, confidence and a cloak of don’t-fuck-with-me settled around this man like an old friend. The fragrance of fresh night air teased her senses along with a touch of mint and the smell of clean male skin. But out of everything she did smell on him, the only thing she didn’t was the only one she wanted.
The rich smell of earth and mint teased her sensitive nose. Unfortunately, Calder didn’t have to turn her head to know exactly where the scent came from. The damn sneaky Irishman who wasn’t an Irishman. Why hadn’t she paid more attention to what the sisters told her? Because the cat in her simply refused to accept help with any situation. To say cats were independent… Well, they had been worshiped as gods. Was it any wonder as a species cats had an overinflated sense of superiority? Not like they didn’t deserve the worship, but still it had a tendency to lead to a few problems here and there.
When she got her hands on her godmother and those sisters of hers… Not too many ideas came to mind when confronting such powerful women. Until then she’d keep her eyes on wily, sweet-talking, handsome human/shifter/male.
He smelled like many things, but not a single one of them was feline. Flo would never send Calder halfway across the world to find her mate and not tell her the mate wasn’t a cat shifter.
A flash of Flo’s face crossed her mind, bringing everything in Calder to a halt. “Oh shit, Sherlock.” Of course Dora would do exactly that. Her godmother would do anything and say anything she wanted.
“I should stay for the opportunity to be insulted and ignored some more. Oh joy, what fun I shall have tonight.” He smirked, those sensual lips curving in a downward tilt. “Forgive me if I don’t fall over myself accepting your invitation.”
“So you’ll not accept our sorries and walk away angry even though we’ve given ya our sincerest?” Liam spoke up as he pushed his scrawny frame away from the deep cushioned chair. “My girl here offered ya the words, the sentiment were honest. Better men than you have accepted far less.”
GettingLuckyinGalway Page 1