“No,” Colleen laughed, patting his hand for assurance. “It’s all made up for the movie.”
When at last the credits began to roll, she yawned and stretched as she rose from the couch. “I’m pretty tired. I think I’ll call it a night.”
Rising with her, he pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. “Good night, Princess. Pleasant dreams,” he said, his voice mild. Without another glance in her direction, he plopped back down on the couch, turned off the TV with the remote and picked up a book from the end table.
Thrown quite off balance by his coolness, Colleen glanced back over her shoulder as she walked to the bedroom. Already engrossed in one of her history books, he didn’t seem to notice her departure. “Well, good night, then,” she called again.
“Night,” he mumbled absently, not looking up from his book.
“Humph,” she snorted, closing the door behind her. Her shoulders sagged with unexpected disappointment. With a regretful sigh, she slipped into one of the silk gowns and climbed into bed, turning out the light before she rolled over and punched the pillow in her pique.
She laid there for a moment staring up at the ceiling before realizing she hadn’t locked the bedroom door. Could that be due to a subconscious desire for him to join you? her inner Freud questioned. “Oh, shut up,” she said aloud, then flinched when she heard Faolan moving around in the living room. Her gaze darted over to the door and knew that there was no way she’d be able to get up, lock it and get back into bed without making at least a little noise. Realizing that either he would join her or he wouldn’t, she made up her mind to stop fretting about it. Instead, she waited to see which it would be.
After a half hour of waiting, she gave up and had just started to doze when she felt the side of the bed dip. She smiled a secret smile when the large warm body molded to her back. “I thought I heard thunder,” Faolan whispered, wrapping one of those big arms around her and pulling her close.
Colleen melted against him and gazed out the window into the clear, cloudless Florida night. “Yeah, me too,” she said.
6
By the next morning, Faolan had decided how he was going to be of use to Colleen. “I’ll cook for ye,” he beamed. “I can tend to things for ye while yer away.”
Colleen wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that so she just nodded, said a silent prayer and crossed her fingers. As it turned out, between the few cookbooks she possessed and The Cooking Channel on TV, he proved to be an apt pupil. He started off simple but after a week graduated to more complex dishes, presenting her with daily shopping lists at breakfast for the various common and occasionally exotic items he required.
There were a couple of rough spots, of course. The day she came home and found the vacuum cleaner in at least a dozen pieces. “I doona wish to speak of it,” he had snapped. A scary moment involving the attempted exorcism of the dryer, which Faolan insisted had been “infested with a full horde of wee demons” because of the strange thumping noises it made. She extricated the sneaker that had found its way into the mounds of wet clothes, and biting the inside of her check to keep from laughing assured him she would do the laundry from then on to save their souls from the threat of eternal damnation.
It was hard to say who was more surprised by what happened next–they became friends. Not to say he stopped trying to seduce her–he didn’t–or that she didn’t continue to ignore his covert advances–she did–but their relationship became comfortable. Over the following weeks, they spent every moment they could together. She got creative thinking up things to do that would be new and exciting for him. Fortunately, it wasn’t hard.
They went to the movies often, and once the initial panic wore off over the size of the immense screen, Faolan loved them. He liked sci-fi and action, but didn’t care much for what she called “chick flicks”, telling her that he’d “rather be doing than watching” the love scenes. Whether by accident or design, he always managed to be positioned just right to slide an arm around the back of Colleen’s seat to share his warmth or take her hands to rub between his own when the theater grew chilly.
They spent one lazy afternoon parked at the end of the airport runway on Hillsborough Avenue. Hands clasped, they lay side by side on the hood of her car to watch the enormous airplanes take off and land over their heads. They went to malls and flea markets, the blues music festival at the pier, and the aquarium downtown. As Colleen suspected it would, the library held a special place in Faolan’s heart. He spent hours just wandering up and down the rows, trailing his fingers across the spines of the books. Occasionally he’d pull one down and read for a moment, then add it to the pile he always ended up leaving with.
On one memorable afternoon she took him to Castle Wilde, the Renaissance festival theme park in Brandon. He spent most of the time walking around with a bemused smile, bewildered people actually enjoyed reenacting a period in history which, by his way of thinking, was so primitive when compared to the modern wonders they now enjoyed.
From high up in the stands, they watched a fencing show between dueling courtiers that had Faolan chuckling under his breath. “Neither of those young fops would have lasted an hour under my command,” he snorted, gesturing with the uneaten remains of a huge turkey drumstick. “Just look at yonder Frenchman there.” He pointed to the blond swordsman wearing a doublet adorned with the colors of the French flag, “Dropping his guard and giving his opponent a clear path to his gullet.” He shook his head. “He’s pretty enough to do well at court, but I’d wager good coin he’d be fair useless if he had to use that wee sticker for real.”
Colleen burst into peals of laughter. “It’s an exhibition, Faolan, they’re not really fighting. See, look.” She pointed to his black haired opponent wearing the red dragon of Wales. “That guy dropped his sword, so now the fight’s over.”
“If ye dropped yer sword in my time, it was over, all right,” he quipped. “Mayhap I should give them a lesson in proper warfare once this is over.”
When she didn’t answer, he turned to face her. Deathly pale, her luminous eyes were wide with alarm. “You can’t tell anyone where you’re from,” she said in a hushed whisper, “they’ll…” her voice faded.
“They’ll what, lass?” he asked, his voice growing quiet.
Colleen’s next words were so soft he leaned toward her, obviously straining to hear. “They’ll think you’re crazy and they’ll take you away and lock you up.” Away from me, she added silently.
He curled a finger under her chin and gave her a feather light kiss on her cheek. “And would ye miss me, Princess?” he gently teased.
“I guess so. Maybe a little,” she admitted. “I kinda like your…cooking.”
He flung his hands up in mock exasperation. “So there we have it then,” he said indignantly, “ye only love me for my mashed ‘neeps and tatties. And here’s me thinking it was this big, virile body that held ye in thrall.” He flexed his biceps to make the large muscles undulate and she laughed, grabbing his upper arm with both hands and giving the iron sinew there an ineffectual squeeze. “Wait until I make ye haggis,” he bragged. “Ye won’t be able to keep yer hands off me.”
Faolan’s ultimate undoing turned out to be an afternoon walk on St. Pete beach. Colleen decided late spring was the perfect time to go before it got too hot out, so they walked hand in hand from the public parking lot through the dunes to get to the wide beach. It was a picture perfect day–the Gulf of Mexico was a beautiful blue green, the cloudless sky blue as a robin’s egg, the sand white and soft beneath their bare feet.
“’Tis a glorious day,” Faolan said, pulling off his shades. Without another word he grabbed a handful of his t-shirt between his shoulder blades and tugged it over his head. Her mouth went dry at the sight of that rock hard eight pack undulating under the surface of his sun warmed skin. The boardshorts hugged his muscled butt to perfection, the material forming a little wrinkly smiley face with each long stride. It was becoming increasingly harder to come up with reasona
ble explanations for why she kept falling in step behind rather than beside him. She stifled a snicker. Oh, don’t mind me, she thought, I’m just ogling that gorgeous peach shaped backside of yours.
Behind her dark sunglasses, she glanced around at the open mouthed stares. And she wasn’t the only one watching, she realized, secretly enjoying the looks of raw envy on the women they passed. His ebony hair was twisted into one heavy braid, reaching almost to his waist. Colleen wore hers loose, flying and tangling around her face in the brisk Gulf breeze. She smiled when he reached up more than once to tuck a flyaway lock behind her ear.
At first Faolan was scandalized by the copious amount of female flesh so casually displayed. That wore off after a few moments and his shock turned into a mild interest. His interest, however, quickly turned to horror when Colleen slipped out of her own shorts and pulled the oversized t-shirt over her head, exposing her modest bikini. Dropping the excess clothing on the oversized towels she spread for them to sit on, she headed straight for the water, oblivious to the impending eruption of shock and disbelief.
“Sweet bleedin’ Jesus,” Faolan exploded, snatching up the shirt and yanking it back down over her head in one fluid movement. “Do ye think to display yerself for every man on the beach? Ye doona allow me to look and I’m bloody livin’ with ye.” Throwing a fierce glare in her general direction, he lapsed into a different language entirely and continued his tirade as he stalked past her to the waterline, muttering under his breath with each step.
Realizing at once this was not his usual good natured teasing, Colleen ran after him and caught his hand, tugging to bring him to a halt. She gave him a warm, reassuring smile. “If you don’t want me to take my shirt off I won’t, but if you look around, you’ll see that what I’m wearing isn’t any different from any other women out here.”
“I care not what other women are wearin’,” he bit out, “Other men are looking at ye and I doona like it one bit.”
“As if anyone would come near me with that scowl on your face,” she teased. When he relaxed just a little, she smiled again. “I know it’s hard,” she whispered, his possessiveness touching her heart in ways she never thought possible. “You’re having to make some pretty big adjustments, aren’t you?”
With a long, speculative glance around Faolan considered the wide assortment of women on the beach, the majority of which had turned away to avoid being caught staring. He smiled sheepishly. “All right, lass. Ye win,” he said, and pulling the shirt over her head again tossed it back to the towel. “As long as I get to look too, I’m guessin’ that’s all right. I’m the one that needs to adjust, not ye.” His hungry gaze lingered long on the cleavage spilling out of the cups of her top and a wicked grin lit up his face. “And that’s just the sacrifice I’ll have to make,” he sighed. He jerked his head toward the Gulf. “Do ye swim, lass?”
“Better than you, I bet,” she boasted. Running into the water she dove under the waves, swimming out as far and fast as she could. When her head popped up again she was in deep water, well past the line of the slow breaking waves. She shook the hair out of her eyes and concentrated on treading water while she scanned the beach for Faolan. There was no sign of him. “Where’d you go?” she asked aloud, feeling the panic start to rise.
“Behind ye,” a soft voice murmured as his strong arms closed around her. “Yer a strong swimmer, lass, but mayhap I’m a bit stronger.” Faolan chuckled, dipping his head to nip playfully at her neck. “I’m thinking this yer best idea yet.”
“Why is that?” she gasped at his touch. He answered by spinning her around to face him and clasping her hands in his placed them on his broad shoulders. When he was certain she had a good grip, he reached beneath the water and lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist. “Mmmm,” he growled, “I’m liking this much, methinks.” Treading the dark water beneath them, his muscular thighs moved in a rhythm wreaking havoc on her senses, making his lower abs flex in just the right places and… Oh, my.
She squirmed when his hard shaft pressed against her bottom. “I can…tell,” she stammered, and he threw his head back and laughed. He arched an eyebrow and cupping her bottom pulled her tighter against him. A soft gasp escaped her lips and he took that opportunity to capture the second one in his own mouth when he ground his hips into hers.
“We could drown out here,” Faolan said in a husky whisper, “and ye’d die never knowing the pleasure I can give ye.” His lips burned a trail of salty kisses from her mouth down her chin, kissing and nibbling all the way down her neck to the sensitive area at the hollow of her throat. “But I will bide my time and wait for ye to want me as badly as I’m wantin’ ye.” He flashed a dark, arrogant grin and gave her bottom a playful squeeze. “And ye will want me. I’ll see to that.”
Colleen gave a little shriek of feigned outrage and tossed her head. “You sound pretty sure of yourself.”
“Aye, my Blossom. I am,” he laughed. “I’m planning a full on siege against yer formidable defenses. I’m going to drive ye stark raving mad until ye give over to me.”
At a loss for words over his blatant honesty, she laughed too but quickly changed the subject. “So…did you grow up swimming in Scottish lochs? Did you ever swim in Loch Ness?” she asked. “Is Nessie real?”
“Who?” he asked faintly, staring openly at her tops of her breasts cresting the surface of the water. He dipped his head and kissed one of the plump bobbing mounds. “Mmmm…” he growled again, moving his head to kiss the other one while his fingers walked up her back, seeking the knotted tie of her bikini top.
She squirmed in his embrace to put a little more room between them. “There’s supposed to be a monster living in Loch Ness. She’s called Nessie. She’s famous. And quit that,” she admonished, her breath coming in short pants. “People can see us out here.”
“I doona care.” He ignored her directive, but loosened his embrace and gave her a cocky grin that said he wasn’t the least bit sorry. “What a fanciful notion. There’s no monster in Loch Ness.” He laughed.
“Right, see, I knew that,” she said, brushing her fingertips across his jaw in an affectionate gesture that surprised her as much as him. She blushed crimson to the roots of her hair and when she turned to swim back to shore, she almost missed his next quiet words.
“Technically speaking…she’s a water horse.”
* * * *
Watching the spring training baseball game wasn’t nearly as much fun as the impromptu entertainment up in the stands. Faolan balanced peanuts on his nose, then with a perfect toss of his head flipped them in up into the air to catch in his mouth. “’Tis a verra slow game, is it no’?” he asked, rolling his eyes in exasperation.
Colleen giggled at his clowning. “I guess it is,” she conceded, “but they serve great dogs here.” At his alarmed expression, she rose and took him by the hand. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
They settled back into their seats a short time later with fully dressed hot dogs, a dangerously overloaded plate of nachos, and plastic souvenir cups of cold draft beer. “I’d begun to believe there were no spirits in yer time,” Faolan sighed with relief, draining half of his in one big swallow.
She took a dainty sip of hers and dabbed at her mouth. “I’m not much of a drinker,” she said.
“And that’s as it should be,” he nodded sagely. “I doona think I’d fancy my woman being able to drink me under the table.”
Colleen turned in her seat and gave him a pointed look. “We’ve talked about this, Faolan. I am not your woman.”
He leaned back in his seat, folded his hands behind his head and draped his long jean clad legs over the empty seat in front of him. “Och, aye. Ye are. Yer just in a state of denial over yer true feelings about me, ’tis all,” he assured her. Closing his eyes, he tilted his face up to the sun and added with unmistakably masculine confidence, “I’ve no doubts ye’ll be coming around soon. It’s just a matter of taking ownership of yer emotions and acknowledging yer needs as
a woman.”
Colleen burst into laughter. “A state of what? What have you been watching while I’m at work?” she demanded, punching his shoulder playfully.
“Oprah,” he said defensively. “She’s a wise woman. She says modern lasses tend to fight what’s best for them. And we both know, my bonny wee hedgehog.” He looked at her over the top of dark sunglasses, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief, “That I’m what’s best for ye.” He drained the rest of the beer and tugged off his shades. Colleen turned a becoming shade of pink and Faolan took that opportunity to lean over and brush his lips across hers. “And I’m looking forward to proving that to ye, Beauty–all night long if need be.”
His voice was as rich as warmed whisky and twice as intoxicating. Colleen forgot to breathe, falling deeper into the eyes looking back at her with such open desire. Without thinking, her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip. Needing no further invitation, Faolan claimed her mouth, catching the back of her neck with his hand and holding it captive for his ravishing. She answered by entwining her arms about his neck while he teased her tongue into mimicking what was on both their minds.
Faolan placed his other hand on her bare leg, his thumb brushing her inner thigh while he toyed with the hem of her khaki shorts. An involuntary moan escaped her lips at the teasing contact and he smiled. “I would have ye in a more private place, lady,” he whispered, “ere this goes further. I intend to be hearing more of those sweet sounds from yer lips soon.” He gave her leg a gentle squeeze and picked up his empty cup, glaring down into it as if trying to scare it into refilling. “I’ll be needing another ale. Bloody wee cup has a hole in it,” he scowled, offering her his hand. “Come along, then, this watching baseball is thirsty work.”
Rogue on the Rollaway Page 10