When Lily nodded her agreement, Lucas gave her a weak smile. “I’m going to go home for the rest of the day. I think I need some time to…to think about things. I’m sorry. I just didn’t see this coming.” Picking up his briefcase, he blinked back tears and left the office.
One small part of her hated herself, but the greater part felt like a huge weight had been lifted. Despite her relief, one nagging little thought persisted. He took it a whole lot better than I expected, she thought uneasily.
Before the front door had even closed completely, Irena slipped into Lucas’s office. “Lucas just lit out of here like something bad happened. You two have a little fight or something?” she asked, concerned.
Lily shook her head and pushing past Irena announced, “I’m going to lunch” to no one in particular, grabbing her purse on her way to the door. She called Beth en route to the mall and then met her friend to commiserate the trials and tribulations of her love life over medicinal cafe lattes at Starbucks.
* * * *
At the Castle, the painting crew wisely gave Ian a wide berth. He painted in silence, absorbed in dark, brooding thoughts. He hadn’t wanted to kiss Lily like he had, but so afraid it would be the last one he was ever going to get, he had been powerless to stop. Christ, he never expected her to respond like she had. His balls tightened just thinking about the sweet moment when she surrendered completely to his kisses…
“Can’t think about that,” he said aloud, jabbing the paintbrush venomously at the wall. In London, he thought, I would have had her on her back before she knew what hit her. His inner voice mocked him. What’re you waiting for…want her to love you first? Thick bastard.
“Won’t. Think. About. That,” he amended, but knew he didn’t mean it. Something was different about Lily…his Lily. No, not his Lily, that was made abundantly clear last night.
The men’s whistles got his attention and he turned to see Beth standing with arms akimbo and a mischievous look on her face. “Hullo, Ian,” she drawled.
“Beth,” he said, nodding curtly. “Something I can help you with?”
“No, but I can help you,” she said with a mysterious smile. “Wanna see a magic trick?”
“Not much in the mood, sorry,” he said, turning back to his work. When he felt a tap on his shoulder he spun around with a ready curse on his lips, but stopped short when he saw Lily standing beside Beth.
“Ta-dah!” Beth announced with a bow. “And for my next trick…”
Lily gave Beth a playful push. “Nope, you’re done now. Off you go.” Sobering, she raised her eyes to Ian and met his gaze..
“I want to apologize…” she said at the same time as him, but Ian shook his head. “No, me first,” he insisted. “I’ve no right to make any demands on you and I’m sorry for the way I acted. I’ll be grateful for any time you can spare for me.”
Lily appeared to study him for a moment. “As of this morning, any personal relationship I had with Lucas is officially over. Period. Our relationship, on the other hand, has a matter which needs addressing immediately.”
“Which is?” He tensed, waiting for her to finish.
Her tone was imperious. “You, sir, had no right whatsoever to kiss me in such a fashion and leave. As punishment for said offense, I command you accept your just desserts for those unconscionable actions.” Bringing out a rose from behind her back, she offered it to him, eyes sparkling.
Ian accepted the sweet smelling olive branch, a slow grin spreading across his face. “I acquiesce to your decree, my lady. What would you have me do in recompense?”
She lowered her lashes and whispered, “Kiss me again.”
And to the delight of everyone present, he did.
10
Ian and Lily walked hand in hand back to her car. “Are you sure I’m forgiven?” he asked, “’cause if not, I’d be delighted to apologize some more.” He leaned in and gave her another kiss.
She laughed. “I should have been more honest with you to begin with, but in all fairness, it’s your own fault for sweeping me off my feet like you did.”
“I like hearing you laugh. So when can I see you…aw, damn it all,” he groaned. “In all the commotion last night it slipped my mind. Dan and Megs are having me over for dinner tomorrow night and asked if I’d invite you to join us. Just a casual evening in, nothing fancy.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Lily said, “and I can get all your deep dark secrets directly from your sister.”
“Em, wait,” said Ian “maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all.” They both laughed, but Ian made a mental note to have a long talk with Meg about what he considered to be acceptable dinner topics.
* * * *
The following evening, Ian swept through Lily’s door in faded jeans and cable sweater, bearing a single red rosebud. To pass the time, he lavished attention on his feline admirer while her owner finished getting ready. “I just need to feed Bella before we leave,” she said.
He tagged along behind her into the kitchen. Noticing the herb jars lined up on the countertop, he struck up a quiet conversation with himself and inventoried their contents. “Hmm…orange blossoms, rose petals…what’s this one?”
He opened the unlabeled bottle and sniffed. “Ah, mugwort. Now there’s something you don’t see in your average kitchen spice rack.” He waited, but there was no response. He tried again. ”Let’s see…what is that used for again? It’s too nasty tasting to eat or drink, must be some other purpose.” He stifled a snicker and appeared to mull it over. “Of course,” he said, smacking his forehead. “Astral travel.”
The banging around at the counter behind him abruptly ceased. Lily had gone quite pale and stood staring at him, mouth agape. Ian barely suppressed a triumphant smile. “Ready to go?”
* * * *
On the way to Dan and Meg’s, Ian remarked, “I have a bottle of wine for Megs chilling at home. Would you mind if we stopped by my apartment for a moment to pick it up? It’s on the way. We’re in the same neighborhood.”
Lily shook her head. “Not at all,” she assured him. “You’ve seen what my apartment looks like. I’m curious to see the dragon’s lair.”
“Dragon, am I?” he laughed, giving her a sidelong glance.
“Yes,” she said with a firm nod. “One of the fire breathing variety, no doubt.”
Ten minutes later Ian turned off into a gated community, the wrought iron sign proclaiming it to be Olde Towne. “This is amazing,” she said in awe as they drove by expensive homes and condominiums, some of which advertised a starting monthly rental rate over three times what hers was.
“Thank you,” Ian said, nodding in greeting to the uniformed guard at the parking garage. He escorted her through the elegant lobby past another security guard, taking the glass elevator to the third and top floor.
My God, there are security cameras everywhere. “How many apartments are in this building?” Lily asked.
“Six,” he answered, taking her hand when the doors slid open. There were only two doors on this floor, one on either side of the large anteroom area.
Six? Just six? They must be freaking huge, she thought.
Pushing open the door, Ian used the security pad to deactivate the alarm. then stepped aside to allow her to enter. “Welcome to my lair,” he said.
Oh. My. God, she thought. As she had surmised it was immense, but her imagination did not prepare her for the apartment itself. It was like stepping into another world. The sections of walls not adorned by ornate tapestries had been painted to look like castle stone. Skylights scattered amongst the exposed rafters in the cathedral ceiling lit the room naturally. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured, enchanted. The plush carpet was the color of ripe wheat and the overall impression was of a great hall in a medieval castle.
“You’re far too kind, but I like it,” he said modestly. “Please, make yourself at home. Drink before we go?” he asked. At her nod, he disappeared into the next room. Her gaze drifted over the overstuffed sectiona
l couch, the gas fireplace with two lethal-looking antique swords and shields displayed over the mantle, the ornate polished wood bar with shelves lined with glasses of sparkling crystal, the huge flat screen TV and…oh my, look at all the books. She ran her fingers over the spines, browsing the varying titles arranged in an eclectic but artistic manner throughout the immense wall unit. There must be hundreds here, she thought, and so many different subjects–art, history, music, botany…so that’s how…she thought, and then horrified, wondered if he had figured out. She shook her head, denying the thought before it could fully form. Moving on, a framed picture propped against a stack of paperbacks caught her eye. Taken in what looked to be a spring garden, an old woman with an elfin face and long white hair sat at a small wooden table across from a gangly boy. From the expressions on both faces, she was explaining the…are those tarot cards he’s holding? With a shock, she realized it was a young Ian in the picture.
“I didn’t know you knew anything about the tarot,” she called out.
He reappeared a moment later holding two glasses of wine. “Didn’t come up, I suppose. Would you like to see the rest of it?” he said quickly, indicating the apartment.
“I’d love to.” He led her past the double doors at the end of the great room, through the formal dining room and into the well appointed kitchen. She reached for the refrigerator door. “May I? You can tell a lot about a man by what’s in his fridge.”
He chuckled. “You may, although I don’t think you’ll get a lot of information out of there.”
It was full of bottled water, two bottles of wine, a carryout pizza box, a few covered plates and little else. She opened the freezer and slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a cry of horror. “Merciful heavens, you eat this stuff?”
The freezer was crammed full with frozen microwavable sandwiches. “I don’t like to cook for just myself,” he admitted with a shy grin, “and those keep me from the horrible fate of starving to death or worse, having to do dishes.”
Taking her by the hand, he led her down the hall into a large room resembling an IKEA showroom, boasting another flat screen TV and a dark oak desk with two computers, ledgers and files stacked in neat piles. There was a large drafting table scattered with pencil sketches, lit by track lighting overhead. “My office,” he explained. A full guest bath lay across from his office, but the smaller adjacent bedroom was empty save for some sealed moving crates stacked in one corner.
There was something unsettling about the arrangement of art prints throughout the apartment, almost like they were arranged around something that wasn’t there anymore. Each cluster of three or four framed a gaping space with an empty nail hole in the middle, the only hint of disorder in the otherwise immaculate apartment. “What’s in there?” she asked uneasy pointing to a partially open door.
“My studio,” he confessed, his cheeks flushing slightly. “It’s a bit of a mess. I’m not very neat when I’m working.”
“I’ve never been in a real artist’s studio before,” she said with a coy smile.
“Then perhaps you could come inside and look at my etchings.” Ian leered, pushing the door open, allowing the lingering perfume of turpentine and linseed oil to drift out. The walls in this room were stark white, the tiled floor covered in a paint-splattered tarp. A massive recliner stood near and half-facing the window, flanked by two small tables, one hidden by a light fabric throw. In the center of the tarp stood a covered easel alongside a workbench containing a plethora of paints, jars and brushes. “If you can keep a secret, I’ll show you what I’m working on,” he said.
Solemnly, Lily raised her hand. “I swear.”
He pulled the tarp from the unfinished canvas. “It’s done in the style of Sir Anthony van Dyck,” he explained. Dan and Meg had been captured in their king and queen ensembles, Meg seated on her throne with Dan standing attentively at her shoulder.
Lily gasped in amazement at the meticulous detail. “Oh Ian, it’s beautiful. They don’t know?”
“No, it’s going to be a Christmas gift if I can get it finished. I’m pretty close now, though.”
“They will surely love it. You are so talented. You could be famous one day,” she said.
Ian moved in behind her and slid a hand down her arm. “Artists aren’t famous until after they’re dead,” he said softly, “so I’m not in too much of a hurry. I’ve got a lot of living to do yet.” Taking her glass, he set both down on the workbench and pulled her close. Her soft, full breasts pressed against his chest as he lifted her face for a long, unhurried kiss, gently caressing her tongue with his. She was drunk with the kiss, the taste of the wine on his lips. “Your kisses are sweet, mo chuisle,” he murmured, “and now there’s only the one room left to show you.”
With every ounce of restraint he possessed, he relaxed his vise-like grip. “Unfortunately, we are expected elsewhere, so I shall have to show you that room another time.” He cupped her exquisite face with his hand, stroking the soft skin of her cheeks with his fingertips. “And I can promise you that time will not come soon enough for me.”
Taking her by the hand, Ian led her back out into the great room and her eyes widened when he paused in front of the closed double doors of the unexplored room. He reached for the handles then hesitated. He reached again then shook his head violently with frustration. “We need to go. Now. Right now.”
Lily placed a hand on his chest, gentling him. “You sister is expecting us. Perhaps you can invite me back again soon.”
He blew out a gusty sigh and walked to the kitchen to collect the bottle of wine. “Damnation, it’s a right bitch being responsible sometimes,” he muttered.
They took the elevator back down to the lobby but instead of going left to the parking garage, he guided her through the front door. “It’s close enough to walk, just over the way there,” he said, pointing to an identical apartment building on the other side of a picturesque pond, complete with a flock of Muscovy ducks enjoying the late afternoon sun on its banks.
“This is all so beautiful,” she said. “So…do you paint for the Castle full time?”
He ignored the unspoken question. “Working at the Castle does have its perks,” he said with a tight smile. Taking her hand, they walked across the wooden footbridge to the other side of the lake in silence.
* * * *
Looking a whole lot different in jeans and a Buccaneers t-shirt, Dan answered the door on the first ring and welcomed them into the great room. “Glad you could join us this evening, Lily,” he said, smiling broadly. The floor plans were identical but Ian’s apartment was dark and masculine, while it was apparent a female with very good taste lived in this one. Dan smiled when Meg poked her head out of the kitchen and waved. “Meg’s making Irish stew, the genuine article.”
Lily sniffed and sighed happily. “It smells wonderful. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Not really, but I’d welcome the company.” Meg winked. Lily headed for the kitchen, grinning impishly over her shoulder at Ian. He followed behind her, but Meg halted him at the kitchen doorway. “She’ll be just fine in here with me,” Meg scolded, shooing him back. “Find something to do with Dan until dinner’s ready. Go on, now.”
Ian opened and closed his mouth several times, then spun on his heel, stalked to the couch and flopped down next to Dan, who snorted with amusement at his friend’s plight. “You had to have expected this,” he said, “Meg’s been dying for the chance to get to know Lily better.”
“There’s no telling what sort of nonsense your fool wife will be filling her head with,” Ian grumbled.
Dan shook his head. “Little late to be worrying about it now, I reckon,” he said, motioning toward the dart board on the opposite wall. “Up for a diversion?”
“Can’t. My hand’s too empty,” Ian muttered. “I’m in dire need of liquid fortification, my brother.”
With a hearty laugh, Dan bounded up and over to the bar to pour them both a glass of claret. With a bow, he handed on
e to Ian. “Better now?”
Reluctantly Ian agreed, throwing baleful glares toward the off limits kitchen. His distraction allowed Dan to win two games and they just began a third when Meg called them to dinner. Lily laid out the silverware and set the glasses on the table while Meg fetched the steaming platters from the kitchen. “Meg, you have outdone yourself,” Ian said
“Behave yourself,” she ordered, “Company first.” Ignoring the men, Meg busied herself telling Lily about the different dishes on the table–the Irish stew, colcannon, and the homemade soda bread straight from the oven. She commandeered Lily’s plate and spooned her out a sample of each.
Ian finally was allowed to help himself and groaned aloud with the first bite. “Oh, this is good. I can see why you keep her, Dan.” He winked, eliciting a disdainful sniff from the cook.
“Don’t fill up, there’s cake for afters and since it’s so close to Halloween I made barmbrack too. Consider this an early birthday dinner,” Meg said.
Ian’s eyes rolled in sheer bliss at the mention of the traditional fruited bread, but before he could say anything about it Lily asked, “What do you want for your birthday?”
“I’m sure I’ll think of something,” he said, gazing deeply into her eyes, the corners of his lips curving up into a smile.
Lily returned his intense gaze and they sat mesmerized for several long moments before Meg cleared her throat. “Seconds, anyone?”
After dessert had been eaten and the barmbrack had been sampled to the delight of all, Ian poured another round of wine and proposed a toast to Meg for the wonderful dinner. Lily raised her glass. “Slainte,” she said, smiling.
Meg and Ian both jerked around in surprise as Dan roared with laughter. “Good Lord, you’ve caught the Irish,” he chortled as Ian and Meg joined in his amusement.
“What other words do you know?” asked Meg.
“Let’s see…I know slainte, and Eirinn go brach of course, and…” she paused a moment for dramatic effect, then with twinkling eyes and in a near perfect imitation of Ian’s soft brogue said “…and I know if someone calls you mo chuisle they’re not askin’ you how you take yer coffee.”
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