by Mary Morgan
“Or worse, close the bookstore,” added Roger.
“Nonsense. I happen to love books, so owning a bookstore is perfect. I’ve also noticed how important this place is for the village of Glennamore, too.”
“Who’s the furry sham?” Roger nodded to Ivy’s new friend perched on one of the chairs.
“Sham?”
Nan laughed. “Your friend, Ivy Kathleen.”
Ivy rolled her eyes. “I must order a dictionary of Irish slang.” Strolling over to the cat, she picked up the purring animal. “Rescued her from one of the trees by the cottage. One of her paws was tangled in a fisherman’s netting.”
“She’s a beauty,” commented Nan, stroking her head. “A perfect mascot for the store. Have you named her?”
“Not yet.”
“Give her a name soon, or she’ll return to the forest,” teased Roger. “I’ve written down my information. I hear there’s a wake tomorrow, so if you need any help, I can come in the afternoon.”
Ivy placed the cat back on the chair. “Perfect, Roger. I’m going to open the store at five for the wake. It’s more a celebration of my uncle’s life in the village. The Seven Swans is catering.”
“Ooo…great food,” stated Nan. “Do you need help setting up the place?”
“I would love some. Thank you both for stopping by.”
“Good. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Walking them to the door, she watched as they made their way across the street. Grateful for her unexpected visitors, Ivy realized just how important this wake was going to be—not only to honor her uncle’s memory, but for the people. In only a short time, she was finding that Thomas O’Callaghan had been a central part of this village.
****
When the clock in the office chimed five-thirty, Ivy couldn’t believe the hour. She’d spent all afternoon organizing and familiarizing herself with the Celtic Knot. Her new part-time helpers were true to their word, since she found records of their hours and pay; including the books that each would choose. Her uncle was a kind and generous man, and Ivy was determined to keep the tradition ongoing.
“Well, Miss Ivy Kathleen, you’ve got the food, drinks, music, invites, and help all done. In addition, the store is in perfect order and ready to open. Are you ready to face an entire village?” She chuckled softly and scooped up the cat into her arms. Holding the animal in front of her face, she asked, “What are we going to name you?”
The furry feline batted playfully at her nose.
“Ahh…but it must be a noble name. For you were brave to not only face me, but the giant man.”
Suddenly, Ivy recalled her evening ride with Conn and bit her bottom lip. “I shouldn’t pester him for a ride. He’s most likely exhausted from everything.” She tucked the cat against her body. “We’ll send him on his way. In truth, I don’t have time for silliness. Or men.”
Bolting the door to the Celtic Knot, Ivy made her way slowly to her cottage. Perhaps the man had already left for the day. For a brief moment, sadness engulfed her thinking he would have gone. When she turned the corner and saw his motorcycle parked to the left of the cottage, Ivy’s heart started to beat faster.
The light by the cottage door was illuminated, basking the place in a soft, welcoming glow. She noticed the new window panes had been installed and smiled. Tossing her worries aside, she entered the place. A candle burned on the hearth.
Placing the cat on the floor, she continued to move throughout her cottage. Everything was tidied and the place cleaned from Conn’s work in the kitchen, but his looming presence was missing.
Frowning, Ivy went out the back kitchen door in search of the mysterious man. There in the fading sunlight, Conn sat in silence on a fallen log. The man appeared in a trance with his head lifted toward the last light of the day and his eyes closed. A magnificent male specimen.
Ivy remained motionless where she stood. Caught in the same mesmerizing spell of the early evening.
A breeze brushed her cheek, and Conn opened his eyes and turned his head toward her. With that one look, Ivy believed he knew everything about her.
Who are you Conn MacRoich?
“Are you ready for your ride?” The soft burr of his voice caressed her, and Ivy shivered as if he touched her with his words.
Tossing aside her worries, the bookstore, and all else, Ivy nodded. “Let me go change out of my dress. I’ll be right back.”
Without giving him time to respond, Ivy dashed back into the cottage. Rummaging through her closet, she yanked out jeans and a pink T-shirt. Hastily changing into the clothing, she quickly stole a glance at herself in the mirror. Her hair had a mind of its own, so there was nothing she could do about the wavy, wispy mass. Pinching her cheeks to bring out some color, she dabbed some gloss on her lips. Satisfied, Ivy grabbed a brown velvet jacket from the closet as well as her boots.
Stepping into the kitchen, she narrowed her eyes at the cat sitting on one of the chairs. “Yes, it’s dinnertime, but you’re not allowed on the chairs.” Scooping the animal into her arms, she placed a kiss on her head and set her on the ground. “Until I can get to the market, you’ll have to be content with some left-over chicken and rice from the Seven Swans.”
The cat’s response was a deep purring. Ivy chuckled softly as she prepared the meal. Placing the food in a bowl, she set it next to the animal. “Don’t get used to all these fancy meals. Cat food is on the list for tomorrow.”
The happy feline rubbed against her leg.
“You’re so welcome.” Giving one final scratch behind its ear, Ivy put on her boots and jacket. Making sure to blow out the candles, she reached for her keys out of her purse, and locked the back door.
Making her way around to the front, her steps slowed. Conn stood leaning against his bike. Excitement flared within her as she moved toward him. “You won’t go too fast?”
Conn held out his hand to her. “Never with you, Ivy.”
She slipped her fingers within his—warm, strong—filling her with peacefulness and a promise of something else. He squeezed her hand and then smiled.
Releasing her, Conn got on the motorcycle and gestured for Ivy to sit behind him.
As Ivy settled in, he turned partway. “Wrap your arms around me. Tight.”
Nodding, she complied. Conn was a massive muscular rock. She snuggled against his back, inhaling his scent. Oh my goodness! The man smelled divine—woodsy mixed with leather. She was too close. Her senses were spinning. Lights danced before her eyes.
“Ivy?”
“Yes,” she mumbled in a strangled voice.
“Breathe.”
Grateful he couldn’t see the embarrassment on her face, she let out a long breath.
The rumble of his laughter made her want to smack him. “Stop,” she chided, though started to giggle over her own behavior.
Conn started the engine and leisurely maneuvered the bike down the path and onto the main road. Slow and steady, he drove toward the fading light glinting off the hills. Ivy inhaled the crisp air, relishing the sensation. Glancing upward, she could see the first star of the evening. Smiling, she hugged him more tightly. Joy infused her spirit.
The ride was exhilarating—a quite tranquil journey on an Irish road.
True to his word, Conn made no attempt to speed up. Instead, his pace slowed as they weaved their way around the hills, taking them farther away from the village. The only time she’d experienced the same rush of adrenaline was on a horse. Yet, someone else was guiding her now, and she treasured the brush of the wind on her face and the heat of the man in front of her.
Onward they traveled, the sun finally sinking in the west behind them, leaving the glow of the motorcycle’s light in front of them. She had no idea where they were headed, but in truth, she had no worries. Being with Conn felt safe—a new concept for Ivy to ponder later. Why him? Why now? Perhaps it all had to do with the magic of the land. Ireland was steeped in myths and legends. Her mother had told her the stories often—a ritua
l at bedtimes. She could recite them all to this day.
Sadness weighed on her heart. You should have shared more, Mama.
Approaching a stone bridge over the river, Conn slowed the vehicle and brought them slowly to the top of the bridge. Turning off the engine, he turned his gaze eastward. “She rises to greet the evening. Would you like to get off and watch?”
Ivy leaned her head to the side. She gasped and got off the motorcycle. Clutching her hand to her chest, she gazed at the glorious sight in front of her. The moon was slowly rising over the tops of the trees—big and full. “I’ve never witnessed it so close,” she uttered softly. “It’s huge.” Lifting her hand, she could almost touch the light coming forth from the giant mass.
“Truly a magnificent sight when you are away from the city lights,” stated Conn.
“My mother and I would always watch the full moon rise each month. It was our quiet habit.” Ivy smiled at him. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
He leaned his arms on the stone wall, but his gaze stared outward. “There is magic everywhere, Ivy. On the dew of a flower, in the scent of a rain shower, even in the gifts we all possess.”
She stepped closer to him, startled by his declaration. Could he be unique? “Yes, but one must be careful, too.”
“Why?” he asked.
“People can be ignorant and naïve. Hate is generated for those that are different.”
Conn stood fully. His eyes blazed with that of the moon, but Ivy did not fear this man. “You cannot let others dictate who and what you are.”
“It’s difficult.” She swallowed, wanting to blurt out everything to him about herself. She was tired of hiding in the background, frightened what others would think of her gift.
However, her body swayed to a different rhythm. One as old as time. She didn’t care if they’d only met. All she could think of was the man in front of her. He oozed raw masculinity, even when he walked. Powerful. Intense. And Ivy desired him—to taste his full lips. Her only fear would be, if one kiss were not enough.
In the soft moonlight, Ivy reached up and touched his face.
Chapter Thirteen
“Intoxication can unleash the beast within a Fae.”
~Chronicles of the Fae
Conn fought the bolt of desire spearing a path throughout his body. Her touch spoke volumes—an invitation to taste. Never had he longed to kiss a human like this wee lass. His heart beat loudly, and he found himself unable to move. She was a goddess of the moonlight. It danced off her face and hair, and he trembled before her. Ivy’s fingers traced down his cheek and across his lips. He was helpless to contain the growl that escaped from his mouth.
The rush of passion overtook him, and Conn slammed the door on his mind. Grasping Ivy around the waist, he hoisted her up on top of the bridge. Her lips parted on a sigh, and he lowered his mouth to feast on something he dared not take. The first brush of her soft lips against his own ignited a hunger he could no longer contain. Taking her moan deep into him, Conn glorified in the sensation of her mouth—one filled with a honeyed sweetness.
The Fae warrior became just a man for the first time. Something primal burst within him. Emotions he had never felt left him dizzy, spiraling to a physical plane. He craved them all. His lips seared a course down her neck, to her throat, and then recaptured the velvet warmth of her mouth.
Ivy wrapped her arms around his neck, and he deepened the kiss. When her legs went around his waist, he was the one to moan. His body burned to delve inside her—give her all that he had by spilling his seed deep within her. He wanted to claim her for his own. Show her the moon and the stars with every kiss—every touch.
Their kisses were ones of seeking—each exploring the other. Conn slipped his hand under her shirt while his mouth continued to cover hers hungrily. With trembling fingers, he brushed them over her taut nipple through the lacy material. Breaking free from the kiss, he gazed deeply into her eyes. One to never ask—always taking, he surprised himself by saying, “I want to taste you here. Will you grant me this?” he asked while fondling her breast.
Her breathing was labored, but the smile she gave him was a moonbeam of promises. Removing her jacket, she placed it next to her. Lifting her shirt over her head, she undid her bra and dropped it onto the ground. Leaning forward, she whispered, “Kiss me anywhere.”
“Are you sure, Ivy? I may ask—demand more of you.” He trailed a finger between the soft mounds, pale in the luminous light.
Conn watched as lust infused her eyes. “For every kiss you take, I will give back to you on your body. And you can start by removing your clothes.”
His cock swelled even more with her brazen words. What would it feel like to have her lips on him? Stripping off his own jacket and T-shirt, his gaze raked over her body.
Arching a brow, he cupped her full breasts, heavy in his hands. Yet, he kept his eyes focused on her face. “You are a rare beauty, Ivy.”
Ivy shuddered from his touch.
Ever so slowly, Conn bent his head and feasted on the soft ivory flesh. She quivered beneath him, urging him on with her gasping pleas of more. He complied. His lust grew along with the size of his cock, straining to be released.
After grazing his teeth across one nipple, she curled into him and moaned. He inhaled her scent, filling him with a passion he’d never experienced in his lifetime. It was a mixture of the land—sweet and primal, and he ached to possess Ivy.
Lifting his head, Conn crushed her to his chest, recapturing her mouth with savage intensity. She speared her fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss and sending them on a spiral of ecstasy.
“You’re intoxicating, Ivy,” he whispered along the side of her neck.
“I’ve never felt this way. It’s almost like…magic,” she murmured as her body arched against him.
Magic? The human world crashed all around him. His mind screamed at him. What the hell was he doing? By the Gods, he was here to help the lass, not take her up against a stone wall. Her body was like a siren’s call—from her voice to the hands that roamed over his skin.
The sound of a lone wolf’s cry startled her, and Conn felt her shiver. “Nearby?” she whispered against his chest.
Conn glanced to the left. “Yes,” he lied, gritting his teeth. The animal was miles away and posed no threat.
She lowered her head against his chest. “You should take me back home.”
“Agreed,” he stated softly. Kissing the top of her head, he gently lifted her off the top of the bridge and onto the ground. Turning from her, Conn tried to ease the pain from his swollen cock, along with the one within his heart. Retrieving her shirt and bra from the ground, he silently handed them to her. Turning back around, he gathered his own clothing. The magic of the moment now shattered.
Raking a hand through his hair, he glanced over his shoulder to find her already dressed. Guilt at almost taking her left Conn frustrated and disheartened. He knew the lure of the full moon. Her power, especially with the Fae was one he had ignored. Buried. Warriors had no need for sex. Only in the Pleasure Gardens of his homeland.
Confusion settled within him as he climbed on the motorcycle. When he felt her arms circle around his waist, desire threatened to spill forth once again. Breathing deeply, Conn fully slammed the door on the emotion.
Starting the engine, he took off more quickly than intended, and heard Ivy’s gasp. His mood so foul, Conn could not fully utter the apology that formed on his lips.
The scenery passed by them in a blur and soon they were approaching the cottage. The moon shone brightly over Ivy’s home, enfolding it in a serene glow. Maneuvering the vehicle to the front, he turned off the engine. She quickly got off the bike.
Remorse riddled through Conn. He owed her an apology for his actions. However, the words remained frozen within all the other emotions. “Ivy,” he said in a hoarse voice.
She stood in front of him. Placing a finger on his lips, Ivy shook her head. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry for
what happened out there, Conn MacRoich. I have never felt so free in all my life. Thank you for the ride, though I believe we should only remain friends. Deal?” She extended her hand outward.
Stunned, Conn blew out a frustrated sigh. Grasping her offered hand, he reluctantly replied, “Deal, Ivy O’Callaghan.”
“Good.” She released his hand and added, “I’ll be at the Celtic Knot early, so I’ll leave the key under the mat for you.”
He followed her with his eyes until she softly closed the front door. Conn remained for several moments. The lass had surprised him once again, and he tried to reason why this mere slip of a human female had his guts twisted inside out.
Even now, her taste lingered on his mouth. “Good-night, Ivy,” he whispered into the darkness and started the engine.
By the time Conn reached the home of Sean Casey, he wanted to do only one thing. Parking the motorcycle, he bounded the steps. Pulling out his keys, he unlocked the door. Light glowed from the library as he made his way in that direction. Walking inside, a blazing fire greeted him, but no Sean. The man had most likely found the comfort of his bed.
Moving to a large cabinet behind Sean’s desk, he opened the maple doors. Sean had one of the finest collections of single-malt whiskey, and Conn was going to sample an entire bottle, or two. Reaching for a glass, he pulled down a 21-year old bottle. “Excellent,” he murmured. He strode over to one of the leather chairs and sank into its embrace.
Pouring a hefty amount, he downed the fiery-amber whiskey in one swallow. Refilling his glass, Conn continued to belt the drinks back. Nevertheless, the burning liquid did nothing to soothe the ache and longing he felt within his body. “I should have never touched you, Ivy. You’re now under my skin, and I don’t know how to get rid of you.” He gazed into the whiskey glass as if it held a solution to his current dilemma.
Tossing back the liquid, he continued to drink, hoping that numbness would overtake his senses. When he had finished the bottle, Conn wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Walking slowly to the cabinet, he reached for another bottle. Not bothering to refill his glass, he guzzled deeply. Wandering back to the chair, he sat and stared into the flames.