Legends Lake

by JoAnn Ross

  She’d scrubbed her complexion clean before going to bed and with all that makeup she’d been spreading on her face like spackle now gone, she looked nearly as young and as innocent as the day when, dressed in a pink dress and ribbon-trimmed straw hat and carrying a white basket of rose petals, she’d served as the flower girl at her mother’s wedding.

  She’d been such a happy child that long ago sun-gilded afternoon, he mused as he straightened her sheet and retrieved the pillow from the floor. Zoe muttered a faint, inarticulate protest when he slipped it beneath her head, then rolled over with a muffled humph and buried her young face in the soft down.

  As he’d watched her making her way down the white satin runner, her smooth forehead furrowed beneath her blond bangs as she scattered her petals with such fierce concentration, obviously intent on performing her role perfectly, Alec knew that he never could love a child of his own blood more than he loved Liz’s daughter.

  He covered her with a quilt made up of fabric Celtic circles, then bent down and brushed some fluorescent hair off her smooth young cheek.

  Touching his lips to her temple, he whispered, “Love you, honeybunch.”

  As deep in sleep as she was, Alec didn’t believe she’d heard him. But needing some positive sign, as he watched her mouth curve ever so slightly as she snuggled deeper into the pillow, Alec allowed himself a moment of fleeting parental pleasure and hoped to hell that she wasn’t dreaming of that tattooed, pierced, Harley-riding felon he’d brought her across an ocean to protect her from.

  He’d just left the room, closing the door behind him, when Kate appeared in the hall. She was wearing a robe the warm rose color of sunrise. It was heavy flannel and tied at the waist, but as she walked toward him he caught a glimpse of bare leg that struck him as more erotic than any Penthouse centerfold could ever be. It also had him wondering if she was wearing anything beneath it.

  She froze like a startled doe. As they looked at one another in the muted nightlight illuminating the hallway, there was another suspended moment of awareness.

  “I was checking on Zoe,” he offered.

  “Isn’t that part of being a parent? I can never go to sleep without looking in on my children one last time.” In deference to the sleeping children, her rich voice was soft in the hush of the darkened house. “I had a thought.”

  Her seductive scent was stimulating a few vivid thoughts of his own. Alec wanted to touch her, to drag her into her room and untie that loose knot at her waist so he could feel her skin beneath his hands, taste her lips, watch those incredible blue eyes as he drove her over the edge.

  Because want was becoming dangerously close to need, he shoved his fists deep into his pockets to keep them out of trouble.

  “A thought?”

  “About Legends Lake.” Obviously flustered by what he suspected was an expression of sheer, unadulterated lust on his face, she lifted a slender hand to her throat. “Shall I make tea? Or, if you’d rather, coffee?”

  What he wanted was her. Hot, naked, and bucking beneath him.

  “Tea’s fine.”

  “Fine. I’ll brew a pot and we’ll share it as we discuss my idea about how best to test your horse.”

  Tea was definitely way down on his list of things to share with the luscious Mrs. O’Sullivan. But since she already had him too edgy to sleep, Alec decided he might as well take her up on the offer.

  He leaned back in the chair and watched her bustle around the kitchen with brisk domesticity. On the counter a blue bowl covered with a linen dishtowel held fragrant, rising dough. Outside, a soft rain was streaking down the windows, misting the insides and creating an intimate sense of being cut off from the rest of the world.

  “I haven’t decided which one I like best,” he murmured.

  “Which what?”

  “Which Kate O’Sullivan. There are quite a few of you, aren’t there?”

  “I wouldn’t be knowing what you mean.” The earthenware rattled, just a bit, as she took the cups down from a shelf.

  “Of course you do. There’s the horse breeder and businesswoman, who’s as hard a worker as I’ve ever seen and obviously well respected by all who work for her and those who bring their horses here to the stud for breeding.

  “There’s the druid who stands up to the Irish roadway department in order to save a faerie tree. Then there’s the loving mother and homemaker, who’s created a warm and inviting atmosphere where her children can feel safe and protected.”

  “I’m afraid it wasn’t always so.”

  “Bygones. What’s important is that Jamie and Brigid are obviously well adjusted, and the fact that it hasn’t always been easy for you makes that even more of an accomplishment. I wish I’d been able to be half as influential on Zoe.”

  “Your situation is a delicate one.” The kettle whistled. Kate pulled it off the flame and poured the water over the tea leaves she’d spooned into a pot painted with Celtic animals. “Although I’m not one to be telling tales, you should know that she feels guilty about an argument she had with her mother shortly before her death.”

  “Hell, I didn’t know that.” But it explained a lot, Alec considered. Including why Zoe had seemed so determined not to allow herself to enjoy anything since he’d brought her home. “It doesn’t say much for our relationship that she’d share her concerns with a virtual stranger and not say a word about it to me.”

  “Isn’t it often easier for a child to talk with someone who isn’t family? It was certainly that way when I was a girl. My parents tried to warn me about …”

  Her voice drifted off as she reached into a jar and took out some shortbread cookies which she arranged on one of the small plates she’d placed on the table.

  “About what?”

  She shrugged and went over to the refrigerator to retrieve a small pitcher of milk. “The typical teenage things parents fret so about. Drinking, late nights, boys.”

  Despite what she’d said about Father What-a-Waste being afraid to kiss her, Alec decided that there had probably been a great many teenage boys from the village her parents would have been wise to worry about.

  “It’s a bit different, being a teenager in a small town like Castlelough,” she said mildly. “Where everyone lives in each other’s pockets and the boys and girls all grow up together. There’s not so much mystery involved in courtship.”

  He wondered if she’d grown up with her husband. Wondered if the now absent Mr. O’Sullivan had stolen kisses on the beach. Had he sat in this very chair, enjoying the sight of her fixing him a late-night snack?

  Had he ever noticed how sexy her bare feet with their high slender arches could be? Did he get hard as a stallion just watching the movement of her body beneath her robe? Had he ever taken her here, on this table, with the moonlight silvering her flesh and the homey aroma of burning peat tangling with her rich, womanly scent? That idea conjured up images that caused his already rampant libido to spike.

  When she bent to place the cup of tea in front of him the robe gaped open just enough to allow him a glimpse of milkmaid pale flesh. Alec snagged her wrist and pulled her down onto his lap. The robe parted, revealing smooth bare thighs.

  “The children—”

  “Are all tucked away safely in their beds.” He brushed a kiss against her temple and drew in her scent. “It’s time for the grown-ups to relax.”

  Kate laughed at that and surprised him, just a little, by settling more comfortably on his lap. “No offense intended, Mr. MacKenna, but I find very little about you that’s relaxing.”

  “No offense taken, Mrs. O’Sullivan.” He ran his lips along her jawline, nipped at her chin. “Since I’ve been churned up since I saw you standing on the edge of that cliff, facing down that highway crew.”

  “I was afraid.”

  “You damn well should have been. If the lightning bolt hadn’t hit when and where it did, that bulldozer might have rolled right over you.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “There was no reason
to be afraid of Brian. It was you who worried me.”

  “Me? I’d never hurt any woman.”

  Kate knew Alec honestly believed that. But she also knew that he was bound to hurt her before he returned with his daughter and Legends Lake to America.

  Oh, he wouldn’t strike her with his fists, or toss hard, hateful words at her like a shower of stones, the way Cadel had. No, his way would be unintentional, but harm her he would. As she looked deep into his eyes, Kate rashly considered that the reward could well be worth the risk.

  “If I were to be telling the absolute truth, I suppose I was more afraid of myself. Of how you make me feel. I’m a married woman,” she reminded them both.

  “You’re a legally separated woman,” he reminded her back. “If you lived in any other country in the Western world, you’d already be free.”

  “That’s true enough.” She sighed and allowed her head to rest on his shoulder as she remembered that day walking back from the beach with Jamie and Brigid when she’d been buffeted by the winds of change, little knowing that they’d be bringing this man to her doorstep. And into her heart.

  “Have you ever been tempted to do something you know you shouldn’t?” she asked quietly.

  “How do you think I ended up here? I knew punching out Douglas Wellesley wouldn’t be a real wise career move. But it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “Isn’t that the way of it?” she murmured. “Yet ideas that may seem appealing at the moment often end up being something we regret.”

  “I don’t regret my actions for a minute. I’ve never been one for wallowing in the past. Besides, if I hadn’t lost my temper, Wellesley couldn’t have effectively blackballed me in the horse world, which means I wouldn’t have been so desperate I had to take on the training of Winnie’s crazy horse, which, following that line of reasoning, means I never would have ended up here, in a kitchen that smells of rising yeast, peat, and very sexy woman, about to kiss the luscious witch of Castlelough.”

  She closed her eyes as he skimmed his thumbs along the sensitive skin of her jawline. “We shouldn’t be about doing this.”

  “Give me one reason why not.”

  “Because,” she moaned softly as one of those treacherous thumbs skimmed across her lips, creating a trail of sparks, “I’m not ready for such things.” She drew in a long, steadying breath, opened her eyes and found herself drowning in his. “I’m not ready for you.”

  “I’m not real sure I’m ready for you, either, sugar. But here we are.” He touched his lips to hers, rewarded when she shivered. “The peat’s still glowing in the fireplace.” He trailed a fingertip down her throat. “And your skin is warm.”

  She had to press her lips together to keep from moaning when the tantalizing touch skimmed down the triangle of flesh framed by the lapels of her robe.

  “Yet you shiver when I do this.” His lips followed the trail his fingers had made. “And your nipples harden when I do this.” There was a rasping sound as he brushed callused fingertips against the decidedly unsexy flannel covering her breasts. Taking hold of her waist, he shifted her a bit on his lap in a way that revealed she wasn’t the only one affected.

  Even as much as Kate wanted him—and by all the ancient gods and goddesses she did—she couldn’t quite overcome that final mental barrier. “You don’t understand.” Her brows knit. “Once, a very long time ago, I allowed myself the luxury of mindless pleasure. And paid dearly for it.”

  “I’m not looking for mindless pleasure.” He took hold of the hand she was pressing against his chest. “When I make love to you, I want your mind fully engaged, so you’ll be aware of everything I’m doing to you.”

  He touched the tip of his tongue to the center of her palm and made her heart skitter. “With you.” His lips cruised up her cheek and set her trembling.

  “Sex would complicate things.”

  “Things are already complicated.”

  She felt herself melting as he nibbled on her earlobe. Her head fell back, offering even what she kept insisting she did not want.

  “You don’t understand,” she repeated weakly.

  “I understand that I want you.” When he touched his mouth to hers again, once, twice, a magical third time, she allowed herself to sink into the kiss. “And unless every instinct I’ve got has gone on the blink, you want me.” He combed his fingers into her hair, pushed it back from her face and took the kiss deeper. Darker. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  His mouth was hot and certain. His hands, strong and sure. Oh, the man was good at this, Kate thought as he pulled her closer. Their bodies were pressed so tightly together she could feel his heart beating, in a hard and fast rhythm that matched her own.

  “No. You’re not wrong.” She shifted, straddling his thighs. “I do want you. But it’s not safe.” In so many complicated ways.

  He drew back and gave her a long, measuring look. “Let me worry about that. It’s probably the most overused line by men trying to talk a woman into bed, but you really can trust me, Kate. I wouldn’t put you at risk.”

  She knew he was talking about her body, about sexually transmitted diseases, which even here in Catholic Ireland, she’d heard all about. Or leaving her with a child, something she knew about firsthand.

  “I do trust you.”

  Slipping free of his embrace was one of the more difficult things she’d ever done. She began to pace, afraid that if she didn’t keep moving to use up some of the energy that was sparking beneath her flesh like lightning, she’d throw caution to the wind and fling herself back into the MacKenna’s arms.

  “I trust you and I want you. And if it were only the two of us involved, I’d probably take the risk. But I’ve the children to think of.”

  “There’s no reason for them to be involved. I’m capable of control. I don’t have any intention of ravishing you in front of them.”

  The thought of being ravished by this man set rivers of flames coursing through Kate’s veins even as she struggled to resist the primal urges battering away at her.

  “Of course you wouldn’t. But Jamie can be wiser than his years, and I believe Brigid has inherited The Sight. If either of them were to have even an inkling that we were …”

  She struggled for the word. “Together in such an intimate way, they could be hurt when you went back to America. Haven’t they already lost their father—”

  “Which, from the little I’ve been able to gather, was the best thing that could have happened to them.”

  “Aye. That’s true enough. So far as it goes. But to be a child of divorce is not a common thing in Ireland, as it is in your own country. I know it’s difficult at times for Jamie. It’s all too obvious that the lad is relieved his da is no longer living with us, yet there are times, when there’s an event at school, like the annual father and son trek, or a football game, when it’s so very difficult for him.”

  She was pacing like a nervous cat in an electrical storm. Sensing that it was important to let her state her mind, he managed to tamp down his hunger. For now.

  “Michael or Quinn always volunteer to play the part of a da, but it’s not the same thing for a boy, is it?”

  “No,” he agreed, thinking back on how many events his own father had missed during his childhood. “It’s not.”

  She shook her head, shoved her hands through the heavy silk of her hair and pushed it back from her face. “I adore my children. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for them.” Her hand fisted against the front of her robe, over her heart. “I’d kill for them, if need be.”

  She was a mother lioness defending her cubs, and Alec had not a single doubt that she’d do exactly that. “They’ve been harmed enough because of my poor and foolish choices,” she said. “I’ll not be risking them falling into a trap of desperately hoping for something that won’t happen.”

  “Believe it or not, I know something about having childhood hopes dashed.”

  He thought back to his long ago seventh birthday when he’d
waited for his mother to return to the theater, as she’d promised she would when she’d dropped him off to see The Exorcist. When they couldn’t find his father, who turned out to be on a drinking and gambling binge in Hot Springs, he’d spent the night with the sheriff and his plump, motherly wife, who’d done her best by putting a small blue candle in a Twinkie and wrapping up one of her own son’s Hot Wheels cars in hot pink Barbie wrapping paper, the only kind she’d had in the house.

  “There’s no way I’d hurt your kids, Kate.”

  “I do believe you mean that. But …” She shook her head, turned away.

  She’d wrapped her arms tightly around herself in a gesture of self-protection. She no longer appeared to be the determined druid witch who’d stood up to an entire road-building crew. She looked as delicate as spun glass and unexpectedly vulnerable. Alec wanted to go to her. To hold her, not to seduce, but to soothe. But sensing emotions he couldn’t quite decipher, not wanting to make things harder for her, he forced himself to remain where he was.

  “’Tis so complicated,” she said on a sigh. “I’m not exactly saying no, mind you. Because there’s a very strong part of me, that, despite my own past experience, still believes that we regret most of the things in life we never risked doing, rather than things we did. Even if they do turn out to be mistakes.”

  “You sure as hell won’t get any argument from me on that one.”

  “But I take intimacy very seriously. And while I’m working things out in my own mind, I’m asking that you be patient with me.”

  “I’m not exactly known for my patience. But I also believe that some things—and one lovely Irish druid in particular—are worth waiting for.”

  She smiled at that. Then relaxed: her face, shoulders, spine. “Thank you.”

  The tense mood lifted, like morning fog. Kate O’Sullivan might appear to be calm personified, but Alec realized that she was far more mercurial than she’d have people believe.