by Clare Austin
“According to my source, Sloane just wants to get rid of the land. He’s happy to sell it just to cover the back taxes. He’s flush, I guess. Doesn’t need the cash. Feeney claims to have Sloane’s permission to go ahead with the sale.”
“Who’s he sellin’ it to?” The back taxes? Could she scrape that amount together? “How much does he really need for it?”
“What do I get if I tell you?” He pulled a crumpled sheet of newspaper out of his pocket.
“You get to keep your testicles,” she said and snatched the paper. “What’s this?”
“It’s from the Currach.” He pointed to the bottom line. “The land sale had to be posted to the public. It’s the law, I guess.”
“Where did you get this?” She searched the paper for details. “Who gave you this?”
“Cait found it when she was sweeping up last night. Feeney must have dropped it.” Simon pointed to the expected sale price. “Not a little bit of cash.”
Muireann felt like a balloon that had burst and gone limp. “This is impossible. How can there be a lien on that land? Bertie’s family had owned it for centuries.”
“Don’t know, but Ian Feeney is the only person in West Clare who can afford that price and he knows it.” Simon backed up a step.
She grabbed at him. “Stop backing up. I’m not going to hit you, dammit.” Muireann said and waved the paper in his face. “What are you saying? Ian?” But given a moment’s consideration, it didn’t seem so impossible. “Yeah, Ian would do this. If for no other reason just to make a point with me.”
“You could offer Sloane something better than money.”
Muireann gritted her teeth until she thought they might crack. “I’m not a whore…not even for a good cause.”
Simon waited. He knew better than to speak when Muireann was pacing.
“Why are all my friends and family completely mental? Answer me that.” She put her hand up to stop him. “No, don’t go there.”
Her kitchen was small. Pacing was near to impossible. “I have to think.” She stopped and ran her hands through her hair. Muireann struggled to believe she could have the best of all worlds. She could keep the land in one virtual box and her relationship with Tynan in another. It would take more than her usual level of tact, which was about as subtle as a hammer blow.
“Sorry, selkie, he didn’t come here to find you. He came here for business.” Simon backed up a step out of swatting reach. “So work out a nice, simple business deal instead.”
“Brilliant,” Muireann groaned. “Did you just happen to pull a roll of thousand-euro bills out of your arse? We have no money, remember? That’s why we didn’t pay the taxes and buy the land in the first place.”
“Oh, yeah. I got carried away.”
“Yeah, in case you forget again…I chained myself to a tree because we have no money.”
Simon chewed his lower lip and peered at her under knitted brows. “You could sell something. Trade something.”
Muireann threw her head back and looked heavenward in an attempt to keep from screaming. “Sure I’ll just tell Ty Sloane I’ll throw him a pot or two in exchange for the cost of paying off the lien and the back taxes on Bertie’s place.”
“You’ve got something of value not ten feet away…” He pointed toward the parlor.
“Don’t go there,” she cut him off. “Ronan’s harp is not for sale.” She closed her eyes and wished Simon would disappear along with his stupid ideas. Her head came up and she tossed her tangled locks over her shoulder. “I’ll have to be creative, that’s all.”
“Uh, can I ask?”
“No, gobshite. You cannot ask. You and your ridiculous notion that I needed a man in my bed got me to this point. I’m going to make the best of it.”
Simon’s face split into a huge grin. “You want him. You think this is gonna be good.”
“Have you no life? Must you live mine for me?” Her fingers itched to wrap themselves around Simon’s skinny neck and squeeze slow and hard until his eyeballs popped out and rolled across the floor. “If he came here under false pretenses, I want nothing to do with him. I’m going out there and sending him packing.”
Simon tilted his head and looked at her. It usually meant he had one of his silly inspirations of his perceived genius. He was about to make her life even more complicated.
“Stop giving me that look.”
“This is your golden opportunity to have a little fun,” he said with an almost diabolical grin.
Muireann mentally rolled her eyes. She knew what was coming. Simon was more persistent than a Lisdoonvarna matchmaker in October. “I’m having all the fun I can stand.”
“How about if I dare you?” he taunted.
She felt the blood rise in her head. “You wouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Come on, Simon, I thought you were my friend.” He was and she knew she was trapped. “Don’t dare me. That’s not fair.” The whining edge in her voice grated on her ears and she hated herself for letting him push her there.
He wasn’t going to drop it. “I dare you to go ahead and seduce your Tynan.”
“Stop calling him my Tynan.”
“How long did you pine for this fella? Then he comes here and lies about looking for you.”
“No, Simon…no, no…not doing it…not on your terms. You can’t make me.” Yes, he can. Muireann started to cave. “He’ll be gone in a week.”
“That’s not much time for a decent seduction.” Simon threw his head back and laughed. “But then who said anything about decent?”
“You’re ridiculous. Tynan’s like any man. All I have to do is show up…naked.” Talk yourself out of this before it’s too late .”No, this is just wrong.” A hot blood rush throbbed in her ears. “You’re intolerable…do you know that?”
“Muireann…” Simon leaned over the table toward her. “You give yourself to every good cause in the interest of Ireland, your parents, this village, but you do nothing for yourself. This guy is gonna rip your dreams right out from under you unless you do something to stop him. You need to make him want to throw pearls at your feet. I dare you convince him any way you can.” He turned and walked to the door. “The loser buys the pints.”
“Then you better get a real job, because this is gonna cost you.” Let him think whatever he wanted. There was no way in hell she would finagle, trick, or wheedle favors out of Tynan, or any other man in her bed. “You just leave Tynan to me. I’ll make sure he never tells me any lies again.”
“Ah now, don’t hurt the man. Ya know that’s never worked in the past.”
“The past? What past? I’ve never laid a hand on anyone.”
Simon rubbed his jaw and hesitated. “Uh, are ye forgettin’ poor Liam Dooley?”
“Liam? He deserved what he got. And his eyebrows grew back after a time,” she declared in self-defense.
“But he still has to live with the humiliation of that tattoo of the Union Jack.”
“Jaysus, it’s on his arse.” She shook her head at his apparent cluelessness. “Who’s ever gonna see it?”
“Though honey is sweet, don’t lick it off a briar,” he said.
Muireann’s hands ached to hit him. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
Simon’s mouth screwed up as he thought. “I’m not sure really. Just seemed time for an aphorism.”
Muireann swallowed the irritation that choked in her throat. “Really, now?” Muireann stepped toward the door and opened it. “How about this one then? Don’t let the gate hit you in the bum on the way out.”
He did not argue.
She hoped the tightness in her chest was a sign of anger and not disappointment. Ty’d said he came to find her, revive old times. Yeah, she must have been crazy to believe that old saw. He’d come for his own personal gain.
Typical. Not of Tynan in particular, but the men in her life in general.
Well, this man wouldn’t go away without something to remember her by.
/> Any suggestion of whoring herself was out of the question. However, she and Tynan were consenting adults. If the time was right, and it certainly seemed to be, she wouldn’t deny herself.
No promises. No commitments. He would be gone in a week. This is just for fun. A little recreation. Payback for years spent wondering about him. Besides it was a dare. She’d never lost a pint to Simon and never would.
Muireann found lip gloss in her kitchen junk drawer and spread it liberally on her mouth. She loosened the knot on the scarf around her body and nudged it down a few millimeters to reveal the dip between her breasts. She ran a dishcloth over the stainless steel teakettle and checked her reflection.
Not bad.
Somewhere on the internet she had read the scent of baked goods had an aphrodisiac effect on a man. Too late to start baking. A dab of vanilla extract behind each ear and a drop on her belly would have to suffice.
She grabbed the Baileys from the cupboard and a tumbler from the dish drainer.
She was ready.
She was determined.
Muireann shook out her hair, set a sexy smile on her lips and pushed through her kitchen door.
Ty Sloane, brace yourself for the ride of your life.
As Tynan strained to hear the hushed conversation from the kitchen, he pushed down the sense of voyeurism that cinched around his chest.
Muireann had a life and Simon was obviously part of it. Were they lovers? He couldn’t imagine that. In any case, an old ghost of a feeling shrouded Tynan’s enthusiasm for his and Muireann’s activities before Simon’s intrusion.
He’d completely lost his mind. What was he doing in Muireann’s bedroom? Ty felt sickened by his lack of self-control. This was not part of his plan. The timing was all wrong.
Even if he’d allowed himself a dalliance, this woman was worth more than a quick shag. The only way to put a stop to the inevitable was escape.
Tynan had shrugged into his jacket and fished for his car keys in the pocket. When he looked up, Muireann stood in the doorway of her kitchen. His breath left him in a whoosh and judgment tried to run for cover.
She was still wrapped in the table scarf and it barely covered her breast to hip. Cú was at her side. The scene was reminiscent of a painting he’d seen by Waterhouse…a fairy princess, a changeling, a nymph. He held his breath for a moment too long and felt dizzy.
The trip his hands imagined taking across her satiny skin stirred a part of his brain over which he had little control. If he took one step toward her, he was lost. He imagined himself picking her up in his arms, carrying her to her bed, and loving her until she gasped and shuddered against him.
“Going somewhere?” she asked.
“Muireann…I…” Sloane, you’re insane to leave now. “I’ve got to go.”
Her eyes scanned him, possibly looking for signs of complete insanity. “Oh.” She reached up and started to loosen the scarf. “Are you sure, now?”
A molten rush shot straight to his cock. Even a saint would fight his conscience over this temptation. He took one step in her direction. The intention, he lied to himself, was to kiss her and be gone.
That one step dislodged his resolve. In a maelstrom of time and space where desire left logic in the haze , he found her lips with his. Her soft, slippery mouth opened to him, allowed his intrusion with abandon.
Muireann moved against him, twining one long leg around him and pressing him closer. A dreamlike otherworld enclosed him. Pure sexual craving fogged his mind. All that broke the silence was a rush of blood, waves crashing in his ears, and Muireann’s gasps of pleasure.
Cú growled.
Muireann stiffened.
Tynan pulled away.
“I’m leaving. Muireann, I really have to leave now,” he was able to say though indecision had a strangle hold on his throat.
“I understand,” she said, but he didn’t think she sounded convinced.
He put his hands on her shoulders. She snugged the scarf up…a filmy coat of armor to his hot advance.
“If I don’t leave, I’m going to have to make love to you.”
“What’s so terrible about that?” she whispered and he saw her throat work as though she fought back tears.
Ty closed his eyes to regain his equilibrium. “What’s terrible about it is that it won’t be terrible. It would be… perfect. But it wouldn’t be right.” Her hand went to his chest and his heart pounded against her fingertips. “You want it to be right, don’t you?” he asked.
Muireann didn’t speak and in her demur he had his answer.
She took his hand in hers and walked him to the door.
Tynan wanted in the worst way to kiss her, just one more time. He couldn’t. It would not end with one more kiss.
She looked down. “Where are your shoes?”
“I took them off.” A rush of dumb-ass warmed his face. He scanned the room for the shoes and remembered they were in Muireann’s bedroom. So much for a quick, painless exit.
The split second of uncertainty was his downfall. Cú barreled toward the door, a shoe between his teeth. Muireann and Ty grabbed for the hound, but he was too fast for them.
“Cú,” Muireann yelled by reflex but knowing he wouldn’t hear, she bent to pick up a clod of turf and hurled it at the backside of the retreating hound.
She missed.
Ty spun around and ran after the beast.
“It’s no use, Ty,” Muireann called.
Making a sharp turn at the garden gate, Ty slipped and fell full on into the mud slicked path. “Shit.” Kiss that quick and dignified exit goodbye.
As he glanced back at Muireann, she had her hand covering her mouth, but her eyes betrayed the laughter she tried to mask. “Sorry,” she called.
Tynan pulled himself to his feet. His socks were soaked and his clothes coated with a layer of good Irish mud. There was no graceful retreat. “No panic. Now I’ve a good reason to see you in the morning,” he said and made his way to the car.
“I’ll have the kettle on. Goodnight, Ty. Safe home, now.”
****
Ty’s stocking feet didn’t feel the chill as he walked to the B&B entrance. He prayed Mary Conneely was asleep. This strange attire would be hard, if not impossible, to explain: shoeless, unbuttoned shirt, and a good portion of Irish mud and turf smeared up his back and on his hands and face.
He put the key in the lock of his room with relief at not needing to explain himself to anyone. The respite from humiliation did not last long.
“Ah, Tynan, you’re…”
He jumped as though caught with his knickers down.
Mary stood with her hands on her ample hips, mouth agape. “Oh, my dear, look at you.”
Ty backed into his room. “No problem. Everything’s grand. We were…I was…”
“Yer missin’ yer shoes there.” Muireann’s aunt had a talent for stating the obvious.
Ty glanced at his feet to avoid Mary’s eyes.
“Right, yes.” He tried to smile. “A bit too much of the ‘black stuff’ down at O’Malley’s. No panic now.” He knew he didn’t sound or smell like he’d been drinking but couldn’t explain himself in any other way.
“Ah,” Mary said with a knowing grin. “O’Malley pours a mighty pint. Set yer back teeth afloat, did ya? I’ve got a cure for that. You’ll be feelin’ much the man again in the morning.”
“No,” he blurted. “No, thank you. See you in the morning. G’night.” Ty closed the door, leaned his head against the cool wood and cursed himself for his stupidity.
He stripped, turned the shower to hot, and stood blindly staring at his reflection in the fogged mirror. What had he been thinking? If Simon had not burst in on them, he would have had Muireann naked in her bed in the next five minutes.
If he wanted more than a short-term good time with Muireann, this was no way to start. They needed time. But even for a man like Tynan, this was counter-intuitive. He ached for her. The feeling was raw, physical, and not at all platonic.
Muireann was no help. She had thrown herself at him.
It didn’t matter. He had waited half his life for this.
He made a decision. Ty was going to show a level of restraint unheard of in the annals of Western civilization. Or at least in his lifetime.
He had no time to get to know Muireann properly. He had about a week. If he allowed his mind to get muddled by desire, he feared losing focus on his goal. First he needed a successful business. He needed O’Fallon’s.
Ty got into the shower and scrubbed the mud off his body. He tried to concentrate on something, anything, else. Useless. Muireann’s image came back to him. The deep sable of her hair as it fell over the soft honey and cream of her skin gave him a shiver even with the water beating a warm tempo on his back.
Damn. She was magical. She had enchanted him. If he didn’t watch his step, she would have him swimming away with her in the frigid water off her beloved cliffs.
The words repeated in Tynan’s mind, a mantra to force him back to single-mindedness. You came to Ireland with a purpose. If you’d wanted another one-night woman, you could have found her in Boston.
In a way, he had to thank Muireann’s intrusive friend, Simon, for showing up and interrupting. The rude wake-up call had stopped him before he turned this woman into another quick conquest.
The bedroom was chilly in contrast to the steamy little bathroom. Ty hurried and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. He found his mobile phone and turned it on. The power was low, but he thought he could get one call out of it before it died.
He would ring Muireann and apologize.
Whomp! Head smack. You flamin’ eegit. Apologize for what?
For kissing her, wanting her, burning to lose yourself in her warm, slick…tight… “Aagh!”
He had to stop this thought process or he’d be in his car driving down her road again tonight.
The house seemed quiet. The only sound was the loud thump of his own heart. Was Mary finally off to bed?
She would have a telephone directory. Muireann would be listed. Ty knew he should let this go, but need gnawed him. Ringing her might be a hollow way to resolve it, but no other options came to mind.