by Lila Dubois
“Why do you say that?”
“You’re strong and smart. It always seems as if there’s nothing you couldn’t do, even if the Devil himself tried to stop you.”
“Thank you, Séan Donnovan.” She could feel the tears in her eyes.
“Ah, don’t cry.”
“I won’t, but I’d better finish this sad tale.” She took a sip of tea, letting the heat melt away her tears. “A few months before the baby was born, I went to the doctor. They found a problem with his heart. It hadn’t grown enough, one of the ventricles wasn’t there.” She swallowed. “It’s called hypoplastic left heart syndrome.
“They said that I needed to make a choice—either he’d have to have surgeries once he was born, and even then might not make it past his fifth birthday, or we’d do palliative care, to make him comfortable until his little heart couldn’t do it anymore.”
“That’s a terrible thing to go through. I’m so sorry.”
“In the end, it didn’t matter. A few weeks before he was supposed to be born, I went in and his heart wasn’t beating right.” That was, and always would be, the worst moment of her life—watching the doctor’s brow furrow, listening for that little thump, thump, thump and hearing nothing. “The baby was dying inside me.”
“The doctors shocked the baby, got the heart pumping again and then gave me drugs to induce labor. When I went to the hospital, some part of me hoped they were wrong, that the machines were wrong and that my baby was fine. I went through labor, same as any other woman, but when the baby came out, he didn’t cry. He took one little breath and looked at me with his big blue eyes. Then his eyes closed and his heart stopped.”
“Ah Jaysus, you poor girl.”
“We buried him, and my mother told Peter, who knew about the condition. He came to the grave, sent me enough flowers to drown in. I refused to see him.”
Silence fell, and finally Sorcha couldn’t hold back her tears. And she’d thought that she’d cried all she could cry for her baby.
Séan leapt to his feet and pulled her from her chair, hugging her tight to his chest. She cried on his shoulder, taking the comfort he offered. When she’d calmed enough to pull back, Séan clumsily wiped her cheeks with a paper napkin.
“And this is why you think you don’t deserve to be happy, because your child died?”
Sorcha touched his chest. “The doctors don’t know exactly what caused the heart condition, but it could be genetic, meaning it could happen again.” She dropped her hand from his chest. She had no right to be touching him, leaning on him…wanting him. “I cannot have a child, and I won’t trap a man into a relationship with a woman who can never give him children.”
Séan’s gaze searched her face. “Sorcha, if that’s all—”
“Stop.” She raised her hand. “I know how silly this must sound to you and I know marriages are about love more than making babies, but I cannot imagine…I think that eventually the man would come to hate me.”
“Sorcha…”
“Please.” She didn’t—couldn’t—bear to hear him tell her it was all right, that he wanted to be with her even if she couldn’t have a baby. If she wanted a child when she was older, she could adopt, or maybe when she was much older she’d meet a man who already had children and he would not resent her. Those were things she would look into in the future. For now she was still mourning the life she could not have, and had wanted. “I will not fall in love with a man only to have him come to hate me when he sees other couples with their children. I won’t put myself through that. I already lost someone I loved—I won’t put myself in a position to lose another.”
Finally Séan nodded, seeming to accept what she’d said. He pulled her toward him. She resisted at first, not wanting him to comfort her or touch her. He didn’t give in, drawing her in until she was pressed to his chest.
“Stop being so kind to me,” she whispered. You’re making me fall in love with you.
“No.” He guided her from the kitchen to the living room, pulling her down to sit beside him.
*
Séan kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back. The woman he held in his arms was the soft, vulnerable Sorcha he’d seen only once before. Usually he felt like a bumbling country fool around her, but when she was like this, he felt strong—and determined to protect her.
She finally relaxed against him, her arms going around his waist.
They sat together, doing nothing more than breathing, for what felt like hours. Séan couldn’t imagine not having this woman in his arms, and life.
He knew that what she needed now was comfort more than anything, but his body reacted to her closeness, the smell of her skin and hair. He shifted, hoping she wouldn’t notice that his cock was stiff as a pike in his trousers.
She sighed again, but the sound wasn’t sad, it was almost…
Their gazes met and he could see the desire in her eyes. He touched her hair, her cheek.
“I want you, but I don’t want to take advantage.”
“You wouldn’t be. You’d make me happy.”
“Ah, woman, the things you do to me.”
Séan kissed her, their tongues touching and sliding over each other. She tasted like tea and butter, seemed softer and more fragile in his arms than she had before.
He pulled up the back of her dress until he found the hem, sliding his hands under the skirt to cup her ass, lifting her onto her toes and pressing her hips against his aching cock. He flexed his hips against hers, the friction just enough to keep him from going mad.
“Séan, we shouldn’t. Your hands…”
“My hands are fine enough.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“And I want to do things to you that are probably sins.”
“Oh yes, oh please…wait, Séan, shouldn’t we go upstairs?”
He looked at her blankly.
“What if your mother comes—?”
“Ah Jaysus.” His cock shrank at the mention of his mother. “Woman, why are you trying to scare me?”
She laughed as he let her go. Taking her hand, he led her up the stairs to his room. She stopped in the doorway.
“Am I the first girl you’ve had in your room?”
“Yes.”
“Then we’d better make this special, hadn’t we?”
“Any more special and I won’t last.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage.”
She stepped away from the door, looking sweet and soft in her dress with her hair around her shoulders. But her eyes were wild and dark, and now that he knew her story, he could see the pain in them.
She closed the door, leaning against it in a way that made her breasts press hard against her dress.
Séan grabbed her, pulling her to him so hard that she gasped. “I want to be gentle, but you tempt me.”
“I’ll do more than tempt you.”
She flicked open the top button of his shirt and kissed his neck as her hands slid down to his pants. As she unfastened and pushed them down, he tried to do the same to her dress but couldn’t find the zip at her back. Her hair hid it from his trembling fingers.
She slipped to her knees and Séan sucked in a breath. In his darkest fantasies, he’d imagined pushing her to her knees, her pretty lips wrapped around his cock.
“Unfasten your shirt, please,” she said calmly.
With trembling fingers, he did, shrugging it off and throwing it aside as she pulled down his pants and boxers.
“You’re a big man, Séan Donnovan.”
Any reply he might have made was lost when she grabbed his cock, holding it steady as her tongue swirled around the crown, her fingers squeezing the shaft. She took the head in her mouth and Séan had to fight not to come right then. The sight of her on her knees before him, the feel of her mouth around his cock, and the touch of her hands on his shaft and balls, was the most arousing thing he’d ever seen or felt.
She took him deep into her mouth, until her lips met her hand. As she
pulled back, her tongue caressed the vein on the underside of his cock. Séan gathered handfuls of her hair, pulling it away from her face so he could see her. She started moving faster, her mouth working up and down his shaft, her tongue teasing the head every time she pulled back.
“I won’t last much longer,” he warned her between gritted teeth. He tried to ease away from her, not thinking she’d want him to finish like this.
Her free hand reached around, grabbing his ass. Her nails dug in, keeping him still so she could suck and nibble his cock. He looked down, her gaze met his, and Séan stopped fighting his desire.
Grabbing her head in his hands, he pumped his cock into her mouth, moving faster than she had. He paused, making sure she was okay, afraid of choking her, but she slapped his ass, urging him on. He pounded his cock into her mouth, the sight of her on her knees driving him, the feel of her warm, tight mouth like heaven on earth.
The orgasm built within him, his balls pulled tight to his body, and he thrust hard and fast into her mouth. He came then, pressing himself deep into her mouth, her tongue caressing him as his cock jerked once, twice, a third time.
He pulled out, looking down. Her lips were shiny and pink, her eyes wide and dark. As he watched, she swallowed, then delicately wiped her chin.
“I’ve imagined doing that,” she said. “This was better than my imagination.”
“You’ve imagined it?”
“Yes, have you?”
“I’ve done plenty of Our Fathers in penance for my lustful thoughts about you.” He drew her up, then scooped her in his arms, depositing her on the bed.
“You confessed to your thoughts?”
“I did, but if I’d know you were thinking the same thing, there would have been no stopping me from having you.”
“There doesn’t seem to be much stopping you now.”
“And I plan to keep it that way.”
Reaching under her skirt, he grabbed her knickers and pulled them down and off.
“Séan, what are…oh!”
Pushing her skirt up, Séan spread her legs and settled between them. He didn’t care to waste time dealing with her clothes. He wanted to taste her, now.
He stroked the folds of her sex, parting them to find the proof of her arousal.
“Oh yes, please, now,” she begged, hips rising off the bed.
“No, I’m going to take my time. I want to know you.” He kissed her thigh. “Every inch of you.” He kissed her other thigh.
He spread the lips of her sex, exposing her core to his gaze and mouth. He rubbed her labia, stroked the smooth warm skin before letting one hand venture up to brush her clit.
Her whole body reacted, her hips lifting, her fingers fisting on the duvet.
He wanted her moaning and writhing in pleasure. He wanted to make her feel something no man before had—to ruin her for everyone but him.
He lowered his mouth to her sex, tracing the folds and hidden places with his tongue. With her taste on his tongue, he settled his mouth over her clit. Taking it carefully in his teeth, he sucked the tiny nub, switching to delicate licks every so often. Her hips rocked against his face, and her fingers were fisted in his hair.
He shifted position and slid one hand beneath his chin, pressing two fingers into her. He released her clit from the prison of his teeth, instead licking it with short hard strokes in time with his thrusts. She was moaning and thrashing, making sounds that might have been words but were too breathless to be understood. He raised his head for a moment, pressing his whiskered chin against her as he looked up her body to her flushed face.
“I love the way you taste,” he said, fingers still working in and out of her tight body.
She hissed out a breath. “When you talk…your beard…”
Séan rubbed his chin against her, and Sorcha’s whole body trembled.
With a wicked grin, he bent his head to her slit once more. Pulling his fingers from her, he replaced them with his tongue, pressing it into her, then pulling out and tracing the path of her body up to her clit.
He settled in there, rubbing and licking, using his fingers when his tongue was tired and his teeth when he wanted to feel her jump and jerk against him. When her body went tense, as if waiting, he pulled back, stroking her sex with his fingers but avoiding her clit.
“No, don’t stop,” she hissed, raising her head.
“I’m not done with you.” He pinched her clit, twisting it slightly before the wet flesh slipped from his fingers.
“Please, Séan, please.”
He brought her to the brink twice more, until she was begging him with each breath, shaking with the need to come.
Only then did he slide three fingers into her, stretching and filling her. Pressing his tongue flat to her clit, he rubbed it, keeping up a steady, rhythmic friction until she came.
She screamed her pleasure, her legs vising around his head. He felt her body clamp down on his fingers.
He kept his tongue moving, extending the orgasm as she begged him to stop.
He pulled away and she lay shuddering on the bed, her legs spread, her skirt bunched around her waist.
He was hard again, his cock rigid against his belly. He rolled her onto her side and finally found the zip of her dress, jerking it down. She turned onto her back, still gasping for breath, as he jerked down the front of the dress and then her bra, exposing her breasts. He swooped down, sucking her nipples in turn as he positioned his cock at the entrance to her body.
With one hard thrust, he buried himself within her. She was tight from her orgasm and her body was hot around his cock. She cried out and lifted her hips against him, little shudders racing through her.
“Oh, oh Séan. I…I…”
He pressed his lips to her neck, feeling the hard pebbles of her nipples dance against his chest as he thrust, her body shuddering under him from the force.
Her nails scored his back, her legs wrapped tight around him. He rolled so she was on top—he wanted to see her.
She was disheveled—her clothing and bra pooled at her waist, trapping her hands to her sides. She braced her palms against his belly and rocked her hips forward and back, her eyes bright, her lips flushed pink.
Séan toyed with her nipples as she rode him. She came again, shuddering and falling forward over his chest. With his own orgasm tight in his belly, Séan slid out from under her, put her on her hands and knees and grabbed his cock. Holding her hips with one hand, his cock with the other, he positioned their bodies and thrust.
He grabbed her ass, her hips, as he thrust into her hard and fast. Reaching forward, he took a handful of her hair, pulling her head back so he could see her flushed face as he fucked her.
“Yes, more,” she whispered.
Yes, he thought, this and so much more.
He lifted her upper body, helped her free her hands from her clothes and urged her to hold the headboard so he could pound into her harder. Her breasts jiggled below her and he reached forward to tweak her nipples.
He couldn’t hold back any longer. Séan thrust in a final time, holding himself still as he came. Reaching under her, he rubbed her clit as his cock pulsed within her.
With a thin, high cry of pleasure, Sorcha came too.
After an endless, perfect moment of joined pleasure, they fell to the bed, a tangled, sweaty mess of arms and legs.
Sorcha rolled to face him, pillowing her head against his shoulder. Séan pulled her closer. It had been a long and troubling day, but in this moment Séan knew what was really important—and what he wanted.
Chapter 9
The Scientist
Seamus stood at the end of the hallway, hand on the head of Finn, one of his two Irish wolfhounds. The Garda Siochana—the Guards, or police force—were giving him and the dogs a wide berth, but he wouldn’t make the mistake of going somewhere without them again. The dogs were more sensitive than humans and could feel when something wasn’t right.
He only wished he’d had them with him earli
er.
The guards were down at the end of the hall. Besides the bits of cleaning Liam and Elizabeth had done before they’d opened the door, everything was still a mess and rapidly becoming more so as the guards stomped across the ruin of the false wall he’d put up.
Had he made a mistake?
When he’d returned home to Glenncailty, finally willing to accept and deal with his heritage, he’d explored every inch of the castle. Both the buildings and the grounds held secrets. He knew that not just from his explorations, but from the stories and legends he’d grown up with.
But this room, the lost room of the west wing, was the most obvious of those secrets. When they’d cleared away the ivy that covered the door, pulling down the vines that had found their way in through cracks in the walls, he’d seen the door for the first time—or more precisely, the bricks where the door should be.
He’d chosen to respect the choices of the past and to keep Glenncailty’s secrets. He’d had the wall erected to hide what was there, hoping it would never need to come down and the secrets behind the door would remain safe.
“Mr. O’Muircheartaigh.” A detective sergeant in the Guards, a burly older man named Oren who Seamus didn’t know, approached him. “Let’s go over this one more time. When did you close up this room?”
“As I’ve told several of your colleagues, I didn’t close up the room. It’s been closed off for years.”
“And why did you open it now?”
With a mental apology to Séan, Seamus told the truth. He believed that there were times when a lie served as much good as truth, but at this moment, he didn’t know what lie he needed to tell and so resorted to truth—or at least as close as he thought prudent. “It was Mr. Séan Donnovan who decided we needed to take the wall down. He thought he heard something.”
“Séan was in the castle?” Oren seemed to know Séan.
“Most reluctantly, I assure you.”
“And where is he?”
“I believe he went home. He was a bit dusty.”
“And you said it was…” He checked his notes, “Sorcha Kerrigan, who found the bodies?”
“Sorcha, Séan and I went into the room. Sorcha was the one who found the skeletons.”