The Gallaghers of Ardmore Trilogy

by Nora Roberts

  “I needed to share it.” She held the stone firmly, and though she knew it was foolish, thought she gathered courage from it. “You’ve been so understanding, and very patient with me. My outrageous behavior, then the way I dumped all my neuroses on you. I don’t know how to repay you.”

  “I’m not keeping a balance sheet.”

  “I know. You wouldn’t. You’re the kindest man I know.”

  He managed not to wince. “Kind, is it?”

  “Yes, very.”

  “And understanding and patient as well.”

  Her lips curved. “Yes.”

  “Like a brother might be.”

  She managed to keep the smile in place. “Well, I . . . hmmm.”

  “And are you in the habit of throwing yourself into the arms of men you think of like a brother?”

  “I have to apologize for that, for embarrassing you.”

  “Haven’t I told you that you apologize too often? Just answer the question.”

  “Um, well . . . Actually I’ve never thrown myself into anyone’s arms but yours.”

  “Is that the truth then? Well, it’s flattered I am, though you were in some distress at the time.”

  “Yes. Yes, I was.” The stone felt like a lead weight in her hand now. She turned, grateful to have her back to him for a moment, and laid it on the mantel.

  “Are you in distress at the moment?”

  “No. No, thank you, I’m fine.”

  “Then let’s try it again.” He spun her around, and as her lips parted in surprise, captured them. Her body jerked, that instant of shock he always found so arousing. “Are you thinking I’m kind and patient now?” he muttered and bit lightly at the curve of her neck.

  “I can’t think at all.”

  “Good.” If there was anything more potent than a woman stumbling over her own passion, he’d yet to come across it. “I like you better that way.”

  “I thought you’d be angry, or—”

  “You’re thinking again.” He nibbled his way up to her temple. “I’ll have to ask you to stop that.”

  “All right. Okay.”

  Her breathy agreement made him yearn. “Mavourneen dheelish. Let me have you tonight.” His mouth came back to hers and sent her already scattered thoughts spinning. “Let it be tonight. I can’t go on just dreaming of you.”

  “You still want me?” The stunned pleasure in her voice nearly dropped him to his knees. It humbled him, her complete lack of vanity.

  “I want all there is of you. Don’t ask me to go tonight.”

  She’d followed her heart to this place, and had found him. Now she would follow her heart again. “No.” She tangled her fingers in his hair, met his mouth with all the newly discovered love and passion in her. “No, don’t go.”

  He could have lowered her to the floor, taken her there and delighted them both in front of the fire. Neither of them was a child, and both were eager. But he remembered a promise made and scooped her up in his arms. When he saw the dazed surprise on her face, he knew it was right.

  “I told you that the first time it would be slow and sweet. I’m a man of my word.”

  No one had ever carried her before. The romance of it was stunning, an erotic fantasy with gilt edges. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears like thunder as he carried her up the steps, down the little hall into the bedroom.

  She was grateful for the dark. It would be easier not to be shy in the dark. When he sat her on the edge of the bed, she closed her eyes. Then they sprang open again when he turned on the bedside light.

  “Pretty Jude,” he murmured, and smiled down at her. “Just sit a moment, and I’ll light the fire.”

  A fire, she thought. Of course, a fire would be good. She linked her hands together and tried to settle the nerves, smooth out the needs. It would add atmosphere as well as warmth. He’d want atmosphere. Oh, God, why couldn’t she think of something to say? Why didn’t she have some wonderful negligee or lingerie to change into and dazzle him?

  Speechless, she watched him straighten from the fire once it began to flame, then begin to light the candles scattered around the room.

  “I was going to call you tonight and ask you to dinner.”

  The idea was such a surprise, such an intriguing one, she stared. “You were?”

  “That’ll have to wait for another time now.” He kept his eyes on her, seeing her nerves, enjoying them a bit, as he switched off the lamp again. And the room was washed in shadows and shifting light.

  “I’m not very hungry.”

  He laughed. “I’m after changing that, right quickly then.” To her complete shock, he crouched down and began to untie her shoes. “I’ve had an appetite for you since you first walked into the pub.”

  She swallowed. Hard. It was the best she could do. Then he ran a finger lightly over the arch of her bare foot and the breath strangled in her throat.

  “You’ve pretty feet.” He said it casually, with a laugh in his eyes as he lifted her foot and nibbled on her toes. The breath that had caught exploded out again, and her fingers dug like spikes into the mattress.

  “But I have to admit, after seeing them this morning all damp and rosy I have a preference for your shoulders.”

  “My—oh . . .” He gave his attention to her other foot and wiped her brain clean. “What?”

  “Your shoulders. I fancy them.” Because it was true enough, he rose, and lifted Jude to her now tingling feet. “They’re graceful, but they’re strong.” As he spoke, he unbuttoned the shirt she’d borrowed. To torment them both a little longer, he didn’t remove it, but only nudged it off her shoulders so he could do as he’d imagined and trail his tongue along the curve.

  “Oh, God.” The sensation drizzled into her system like gold dust until everything inside her sparkled. When she gripped his hips for balance, he worked his way up the side of her neck to her jaw, like a man slowly sampling his way through a variety of dishes at a banquet.

  His mouth brushed over hers, a teasing taste that stirred the juices of her own hunger. He heard it in her quiet moan and came back for a second, longer taste.

  Her hands slid up his back, and she moved her body against his in a dreamy rhythm as her head fell back in surrender.

  Slow, he said, and sweet. It was exactly right. With the candlelight dancing and the rain softly pattering and her own sighs filling her head, soft kisses grew longer, and deeper. It seemed her body was alive with the taste of him now, rich and male and perfect.

  When he tugged his shirt off she gave a low sound of pleasure and let her hands roam over his back, knead into the muscles.

  His heart leaped against hers. Those slow, hesitant strokes of her hands were maddening. Wonderful. Her mouth was so soft, so giving. And the way she shivered—nerves and anticipation—when he unhooked her slacks and let them slide to the floor flashed fresh heat into his blood. Gaelic endearments burned in his brain, tumbled off his tongue as he took his mouth over her face, down her throat, once again over those glorious shoulders until her shivers became shudders and her sighs gasps.

  Slow down, slow down, he ordered himself. But how could he have known that the need for her would rear up and snap into his soul with jagged teeth? Afraid he would frighten her, he pressed his lips to the curve of her throat and just held her until the rage of it settled again.

  She was floating, too tangled in sensations to note the changes of rhythm. Dreamily, she turned her head, found his mouth with hers and slid them both into the kiss. It seemed her bones were dissolving, and the pressure in her belly was glorious. Everywhere he touched, a part of her lit up.

  This was making love, was all she could think. At last, this. How could she have mistaken anything else for this?

  He had to have more. He slipped the shirt aside and found himself charmed by the simple white bra. To please himself, he trailed a fingertip along the top edge, circled the tiny mole.

  Her legs buckled. “Aidan.”

  “When I saw this little dot this morn
ing,” he murmured, watching her face, “I wanted to bite you.” When she only blinked at him, he grinned and flicked open the hook of her bra. “It made me wonder what other sexy little secrets you hide under those tidy clothes of yours.”

  “I don’t have any sexy secrets.”

  The bra fell to the floor. Aidan lowered his gaze, watched the faint flush work over her skin and found it sinfully erotic. “You’re wrong about that,” he said quietly, then cupped her breasts in his hands.

  There, that quick jerk of shock, and the glimmer of surprise in her eyes. Experimentally, he rubbed his thumbs over her nipples and watched those sea-green eyes blur.

  “No, don’t close them,” he said as he lowered her to the bed. “Not yet. I want to see what my touching you does to you.”

  So he watched her face as he enjoyed her, as he learned the secrets she’d claimed not to have. Silky skin and tumbled hair, all smelling of rain. Soft curves, subtle dips. When his workingman’s hands skimmed over her, she would quiver. And each secret he discovered was a pleasure to them both.

  When he tasted her, the world slipped away until there was nothing but the rage of her own pulse and the hot glory of his mouth on her skin.

  Ripe for release, she arched against his hand when he covered her. Moved against him as the ache sweetened and the sweetness became unbearable. His mouth came down on hers, catching her cry of pleasure. He gave her more, more until her breath was sobs and her body molten.

  The eyes that so fascinated him were blind now, and her skin glowing and damp. It wasn’t only her world that had slipped away, but his as well. She was all that was left in it.

  He said her name once, then slid into her. Heat into heat, need into need, strong and deep. Holding there, holding, until she wrapped herself around him.

  Joined now, they moved together, long, slow strokes that fed the soul. Dazzled, she smiled. Light shimmered, like the brilliance of the diamond as his lips curved in response and met hers.

  This, she thought, was the real magic. The most powerful. And clinging to it, she leaped off the edge of the world with him.

  Candlelight fluttered. The fire hissed and rain pinged on the windows. There was a gorgeous, exciting, fascinating, and wonderfully naked man in her bed.

  Jude felt like a cat who’d just been given the keys to the milking parlor.

  “I’m so glad William’s having a baby.”

  Aidan turned his head, found his face buried in her hair, and angled it away again. “What the devil does William have to do with it?”

  “Oh. I didn’t realize I’d said that out loud.”

  “It’s no worse than thinking about another man when I’ve yet to get my breath back after loving you.”

  “I wasn’t thinking of him like that.” Appalled, she sat up, too mortified to remember she was naked. “I was just thinking that if he wasn’t having a baby, my mother wouldn’t have told me, and I wouldn’t have gotten upset and come down to the pub and—it all led to here, to this,” she finished weakly.

  He still had the energy for arrogance. Lifting a brow, he said, “I’d have gotten you here eventually.”

  “I’m glad it was tonight. Now. Because it was so perfect. I’m sorry. It was a stupid thing to say.”

  “You’re going to have to stop assuming every stray thought that comes out of your mouth is stupid. And since there’s a logic to the pattern you just mentioned, I say we drink a toast to the timing of William’s virility.”

  Relieved, she beamed at him. “I suppose we could, though he’s not half as good in bed as you are.” Instantly her cheery grin became a look of horror. “Oh, what a thing to say!”

  “If you think I’m insulted by that, you’re mistaken.” Chuckling, Aidan sat up as well, and kissed her soundly. “I’d say it’s worth another toast. To William’s stupidity in not recognizing the jewel he had so she could fall into my hands.”

  Jude threw her arms around him, hugged hard. “No one’s ever touched me the way you did. I didn’t think anyone would ever want to.”

  “I’m already wanting to again.” He nuzzled into the curve of her neck. “Why don’t we go down and have that wine, and a bit of soup or whatever. Then we’ll come back and start all over again?”

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea.” She ordered herself not to feel awkward as she climbed out of bed to dress. He’d already seen all of her there was to see, so it was foolish to be shy now.

  Still, she was relieved when she was covered in the borrowed shirt and her slacks. But when she reached for a band for her hair, Aidan laid a hand on her shoulder and made her jump.

  “Why are you tying it back?”

  “Because it’s awful.”

  “I like it wild.” He played his fingers through it. “Sort of rioting around in this lovely dense color.”

  “It’s brown.” And she’d always considered it as original as tree bark.

  “So’s mink, darling.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “What’ll we do with you, Jude Frances, if you ever take the blinders off and really look at yourself? I think you’ll be a terror. Come on now and leave it be,” he added and began to tug her toward the door. “I’m the one who’s looking at it, after all.”

  She was too pleased to argue, but took a stand once they were in the kitchen. “You cooked breakfast, so I’ll fix dinner,” she said and got out the wine. “I’m not much of a cook, so you’ll have to make do with my fallback meal.”

  “And what might that be?”

  “Soup from a can and grilled cheese sandwiches.”

  “Sounds like just the trick on a rainy night.” He took the wine and settled at a chair at the kitchen table. “Plus I get the pleasure of watching you make it.”

  “When I first saw this kitchen, I thought it was charming.” She moved to the hearth and lit the fire with an ease that surprised Aidan a little. “Then I realized there wasn’t a dishwasher, or a microwave, or so much as an electric can opener or coffee machine.”

  Laughing, she got a can of soup out of the pantry and set to opening it with her little manual opener. “I was a bit appalled, let me tell you. And I’ve done more in this kitchen and enjoyed what I’ve cooked here more than anything I ever put together in my condo. And that kitchen’s state of the art. Jenn-Air range, sub-zero refrigerator.”

  As she spoke, she started the soup, ducked into the refrigerator for cheese and butter. “Of course, I haven’t tackled anything complicated. I’m gathering the courage to try to make soda bread. It seems fairly basic, and if I don’t mess it up too badly, I could work up to actually baking a cake.”

  “Have you a yen to bake, then?”

  “I think I do.” She smiled over her shoulder as she spread butter on bread. “But it’s rather daunting when you’ve never done it before.”

  “You won’t know if you like it unless you try.”

  “I know. I hate failing at things.” She shook her head as she heated the skillet. “I know it’s a problem. It’s the reason I haven’t tried a lot of the things I think about trying. I always convince myself I’ll muck it up anyway, so I don’t try. It comes from being an awkward child of graceful parents.”

  She laid the sandwiches in the skillet, pleased when they sizzled cheerfully. “But I make pretty good cheese sandwiches, so you won’t starve.” She turned and bumped solidly into his chest.

  His mouth was on hers again. Hot, a little rough and very exciting. When he let her breathe again, he nodded. “Nothing awkward about that, or the rest of you, as far as I’ve seen.”

  Satisfied, he went back to the table and his wine.

  Jude recovered in time to keep the soup from boiling over.

  He stayed through the night so that she could curl warm against him. At sunrise, when the light glided through the window to shimmer on the air, he reached for her again, making lazy love to her that left her steeped in dreams.

  When next she woke, he was sitting on the bed beside her, holding a cup of coffee and stroking her hair.
<
br />   “Oh. What time is it?”

  “Past ten, and I’ve ruined your reputation.”

  “Ten?” She sat up quickly, surprised and grateful when he handed her the coffee. “My reputation?”

  “Beyond redemption now. I meant to leave at dawn so my car wouldn’t be in your street. But I was distracted.”

  She sighed deeply. “I remember.”

  “There’ll be talk now, about that Gallagher lad cozying up to the Yank.”

  Her eyes glittered. “Will there, really? How wonderful.”

  He laughed, tugged on her hair. “I thought somehow you might enjoy that.”

  “I’d like it better if I ruined your reputation. I’ve never ruined anyone’s reputation before.” She touched his face, delighted that she could, and trailed her finger down over the narrow cleft in his chin. “I could be that loose American woman who’s stolen the owner of Gallagher’s from under the noses of all the local ladies.”

  “Well, now, if you’ve decided to be a loose woman, I’ll be back tonight after closing, and you can take unfair advantage of me.”

  “I’d be glad to.”

  “Keep a light burning for me, darling.” He leaned forward to kiss her, then lingered over it long enough to make himself uncomfortable. “Bloody paperwork,” he muttered. “I have to go deal with it. Miss me, will you, Jude?”

  “All right.”

  She settled back against the pillows when he left, listened to the sound of the door closing behind him, then of his car starting.

  For an hour she did nothing but sit in bed and hum.

  THIRTEEN

  I’M HAVING A love affair.

  Jude Frances Murray is having a passionate affair with a gorgeous, charming, sexy Irishman.

  I just love writing that.

  I can barely resist behaving like a schoolgirl and writing his name over and over again in a notebook.