Her Irish Rogue

He set her down next to the bed, her arms still wrapped around his neck. And when she turned her face up to his, he did what he’d wanted to do all evening. Will covered her mouth with his, savoring the taste of her. She responded without hesitation, her tongue meeting his, silently offering more than just a kiss.

The attraction between them was undeniable and intense, yet Will wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. With any other woman, he wouldn’t have hesitated to crawl into her bed and make love to her all night long. But Claire O’Connor was a guest! And then there was Sorcha’s little love spell. If that had anything to do with this attraction, then Will wasn’t about to let it affect his judgment.

Still, he couldn’t resist enjoying just a few more moments with her. His hands skimmed over her body, slipping beneath the silk shirt to touch bare skin. She leaned closer, inviting further exploration, and there didn’t seem to be anything standing in his way.

Will slowly worked at the buttons of her shirt, opening them one by one and bending to kiss each inch of exposed skin. When he reached the soft tops of her breasts, he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled her into the space between his legs.

His lips found her belly, so smooth and warm, and he spanned her waist with his hands as he kissed her there. Claire ran her fingers through his hair, guiding his head until he reached the lacy fabric of her bra. Will nuzzled at the soft flesh, then reached up to tug the lace down to reveal her nipple.

Claire tipped her head back the instant his lips teased at the hard peak and a heartbeat later, they tumbled onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. All good sense seemed to vanish and Will focused on pleasure, the wonderful act of exploring her body with his lips and his fingers, inhaling her scent and listening to the tiny sounds that escaped from her throat with each tantalizing caress.

He twisted his fingers around hers and gently drew her arms above her head, gazing down into her face. “Are you sure you want this?”

She didn’t open her eyes, but merely smiled. “Yes.”

“Look at me,” he said.

Claire opened her eyes and he stared down at her. “Would you like to go to sleep?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied.

Will rolled to his side, then stood next to the bed. If he was going to spend his pent-up passion on Claire O’Connor, then it was going to be a night both of them remembered, a night that went on far longer than the next hour or two. He reached down and drew the covers back.

“You’re going to thank me for this tomorrow morning,” he muttered as he took off her shoes. “Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy a good roll in the sack, but I can control my impulses. Not that it isn’t killing me to walk out of this room.” Will carefully rebuttoned her shirt. “I sure won’t be getting any sleep tonight.”

He pulled the bedcovers up over her and tucked them under her chin, then bent down and brushed a kiss onto her lips. “We’ll take this up another time,” he said.

“Another time,” she whispered, a tiny smile curling her lips.

He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him, then made his way through the quiet hallway to the stairs. On his way through the parlor, he grabbed the wineglasses and empty bottle before heading back to the kitchen.

Though it was late, he wasn’t tired. In truth, he was so wound up, he wondered if he’d sleep at all. Or if he’d spend the entire night thinking about the beautiful woman in room three, knowing she was just upstairs, knowing that if he really wanted to, he could walk into her room and crawl into her bed. He’d been invited.

“Was she wild for you?”

Will spun around to see Sorcha standing in the doorway. She was dressed in a long white robe with a jeweled belt cinched at the waist and a wreath of holly leaves on her head. “Jaysus, what the hell are you doing here?”

“I was curious,” she said, crossing the room to stand in front of him. “I wanted to see if my spell worked.”

“No,” he lied. “Did you really expect that it would?”

She frowned, staring into his face as if she could read his mind. “Why don’t you believe in my powers, Will? They’re real, you know.”

“Sorcha, it’s late and I need to get some sleep. Go home.”

“I can’t. I have to go out to the stone circle and do an incantation. Maggie Foley wants grandchildren and she’s paying me for a weekly fertility ritual on behalf of her three daughters.”

“But you’d rather come here and bother me?”

“If you don’t believe in the magic, it won’t work.” She reached into her bag and withdrew an old bottle, stopped with a cork. “Here, you might as well have this. You need all the help you can find.”

“What is it?”

“Water from the Druid spring. Use it. If you don’t have a woman soon, I think you’re going to go right round the bend. It’s not good for a man to have all that unreleased sexual energy. It’s not healthy.”

“I blame that on you and every other person who lives on Trall. You were the eedjits who put my name up for that bachelor story. Thought it might bring more publicity to Trall. Well, it didn’t. But it ruined my social life.”

“The water could change all that,” Sorcha said.

“There is no Druid spring,” Will countered. “You probably drew this water right from the tap at your flat.” He pulled out the stopper and dumped the water into the sink, then handed her the empty bottle.

She shrugged. “All right. Suit yourself.” Sorcha turned for the door.

“Are you going to remove the spell?” Will called.

She slowly faced him again, a satisfied grin curling her lips. “You do believe, you just can’t admit it. My work here is done. The rest is up to you.”

With that, she spun around, her robes billowing out as she left the room. Will chuckled to himself. So maybe there was something to Sorcha’s spell. He’d give Claire tonight to sleep off her jet lag and the wine they’d drunk. But tomorrow, he’d get down to the bottom of this crazy attraction between them. And then he’d know for sure if Sorcha’s Druid powers had any effect on him at all.

CLAIRE SLOWLY came awake, opening her eyes to the soft sunlight in the room. At first, she wasn’t sure where she was. She closed her eyes again, certain she was dreaming, but then realized she wasn’t asleep. Pushing up on her elbow, she looked around the unfamiliar room. It wasn’t her bedroom—but then, she was in Ireland, wasn’t she? But this wasn’t the room she’d been put in, either. Her luggage wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Slowly, the events of the previous night came back to her.

“Oh, no,” she murmured. Was this his room? Had they spent the night together in his bed? Wincing, she sat up and peeked under the covers. A sigh of relief escaped her lips. She was still dressed, though her blouse wasn’t buttoned right. “I didn’t do anything stupid.” Claire frowned. “Why didn’t I do anything stupid?”

A soft knock sounded on the door and Claire crawled out of bed. She smoothed the wrinkles in her shirt and ran a hand through her hair before she opened the door. Will stood on the other side with a tray. “I made you some coffee,” he said. “I thought you might need it.”

Claire rubbed her temple, suddenly aware of the ache there. “What time is it?”

“Noon,” he said. “Which is about six a.m. Chicago time. I can bring the coffee back later, if you like. Your bags are out here in the hall.”

Claire stepped away from the door and motioned him inside. She sat down on the edge of the bed and he placed the tray on a small table and set it in front of her. Then he poured her a mug of coffee. “There’s milk and sugar,” he said, pointing to the tray.

“Black is fine.” She took a sip, watching him over the rim of the mug. “What happened last night?”

“You don’t remember?”

“Parts of it are a little hazy. I didn’t have that much to drink. Just a few glasses of wine.”

He walked out the door and returned with her luggage, setting the bags at the foot of the bed. “I think you were more tired than drunk,” Will said. “You got sleepy and I brought you up here and—”

“And?”

“And put you to bed.”

“That’s all?” Claire asked.

“Yes,” he said. “Well, not entirely. We did mess around a bit before you fell asleep.”

“Define messing around,” Claire said. “I don’t want to mistranslate here.”

Will reached out and took her hand, toying with her fingers as he spoke. “We kissed and touched and that was about the end of it. And you invited me to spend the night, but I didn’t want to take advantage.”

“That was noble of you,” she said.

“Not that noble. Believe me, I considered taking you up on your offer. I spent most of last night kicking my own arse because I hadn’t. I live on a damned island. Beautiful women don’t come along every day.”

“I’m sorry,” Claire said.

“For what?”

“Leading you on. I—I really didn’t come here for—Well, even though I find you very—” Claire quickly took another sip of her coffee. Why was she having such a difficult time telling him she didn’t want him? Claire groaned inwardly. Maybe because she wanted Will Donovan more than she’d ever wanted a man before?

“You came here for a vacation,” Will said. He slowly stood. “If you’d like, I’ll take you out today and show you some of the sights.”

“Thank you. But I thought I’d walk into town and do a little shopping.”

“Well, be sure to put on something warm. There’s a chill in the air.”

Claire watched as he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. She let out a tightly held breath, then flopped back on the bed. In truth, she would have been perfectly happy to spend the entire day with Will, curled up in front of a blazing fire, sipping wine, getting to know each other…more intimately. But she’d come to Trall specifically to find the Druid spring. And if she hoped to accomplish her goal, then she’d have to do some investigative work. And the first person she’d go to see was that Druid priestess that Captain Billy mentioned. If anyone knew about the Druid spring, she would.

When she’d finished her coffee, Claire unpacked. She followed Will’s advice and picked out a warm wool sweater and a pair of corduroy pants. Then she brushed her teeth and ran a comb through her hair, deciding to forgo makeup. There was no use attracting unwarranted attention from the innkeeper.

She found Will sitting at the dining room table, a pile of papers spread out in front of him. She watched him, unseen, from the doorway, admiring the handsome features of his face, the strong set of his jaw and the sensuous mouth.

His hair was thick, an indistinct color somewhere between brown and black, and long enough to brush against his collar. Her fingers twitched as she recalled the feel of it. His profile was almost aristocratic, a perfectly straight nose, a high forehead, a strong chin. She’d always thought Eric the most handsome man she’d ever met, but he seemed rather ordinary compared to Will.

So how had a man like Will remained unattached? Surely, one of Ireland’s most eligible bachelors had had his choice of available females. He had a charming personality; he was good-looking, polite, with just a hint of bad boy thrown in. And he’d managed to nearly seduce her, a complete stranger, without even trying. Surely there was one attractive, single woman in all of Ireland who’d wanted him for her own.

Claire cleared her throat as she walked into the room and Will glanced up. He slowly stood, his gaze fixed on her. “Hi,” he said.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Claire said. “I hoped that you might give me some information.”

“About?”

“The captain of the mail boat was telling me about a Druid princess—no, priestess—who lives on the island. I’d like to meet her.”

Will was silent for a long moment. “You want to meet Sorcha? Why?”

“I don’t know. She sounds…interesting. Does she have a shop in town?”

Will nodded. “It’s called The Dragon’s Heart. She makes jewelry and little Druid trinkets. But, she’s really a bit—” He paused. “Eccentric. She sometimes has a tendency to promise more than she can deliver. If you’d like to see her, I could take you.”

“No, I’m just curious. What else would you suggest? I thought I might make a list to be sure I saw everything before I left.”

Will chuckled. “You don’t need a list. There’s not that much to see. There’s the church. There are some beautiful relics inside and some interesting Celtic crosses in the graveyard. There’s a small museum about the island just back of the post office. And there are some lovely shops along Parsons Street, antiques and such. There’s a tour of the island that leaves at noon from the market square in a horse-drawn carriage. Most of the tourists enjoy that.”

“And what about the things you find interesting?” she asked.

“There’s the stone circle,” Will said.

“Like Stonehenge?”

“Not nearly as grand. But interesting. I can take you if you’d like. I’m finished here. And after we go, we can stop in town for lunch.”

Claire considered his invitation, then nodded. What harm could it do? Despite wanting to keep her distance, spending the day with Will would be infinitely more interesting than wandering about the island on her own. And in the light of day she could certainly control her impulses around him. “All right,” she said.

He held out his hand and she hesitantly placed hers in his. The instant she touched him, Claire regretted accepting his offer. His fingers were warm and strong and she imagined them skimming over her naked skin, raking through her hair, touching her in places far too intimate to contemplate. She tugged her hand away and fumbled with the buttons of her jacket.

“I just need to grab a coat and we can go,” Will said.

They walked out the kitchen door to the carriage house. Will helped her into a Range Rover, then circled around and got in the driver’s side. As they bumped down the lane, Claire risked a glance over at him. She smiled to herself. She could look, but touching was a bad idea. Looking couldn’t possibly get her in trouble, could it?

They drove away from the village, winding around through the barren, windswept hillsides at the center of the island. Once, they had to stop and wait for a flock of sheep to meander across the road. Will pointed out the old stone cottages along the way and the remains of a castle keep that was now nothing more than a pile of rocks.

They came to the crest of a hill and a moment later, Claire could see the ocean again. Will pulled the Range Rover to a stop. “We’ll have to walk from here,” he said. “It’s not far.”

She jumped out of the truck and joined him as he started off down a small footpath. He held her hand for most of the way and when the path grew rocky, he walked in front, turning to help her climb over stone fences, his hands firm on her waist as she made her way between rickety wood stiles. They trudged over another small rise and suddenly, a wide, lush green meadow appeared before them, the circle of pillars rising toward the sky.

Claire’s breath caught in her throat. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured.

Will turned to her and looked down into her eyes. He reached out, brushing his fingertips over her cheek, and Claire shivered at his touch. She waited, unsure of how to react, her breath coming in tiny gasps that made her a bit dizzy.

And then, he bent closer and kissed her, his mouth warm on hers. Claire parted her lips as the kiss deepened and she felt her mind spinning with desire and her body pulsing with wonderful sensations. But then the kiss ended as suddenly as it had begun.

Will glanced up at the sky. “We’d better hurry along. It looks like it’s going to rain.”

They walked down the steep hill to the circle of rough pillars. It was like a miniature version of Stonehenge, the stones no more than ten feet high and four feet wide. The diameter of the circle was at least fifty or sixty feet.

She slowly walked around the outside, touching each pillar as she passed it, surprised by the strange atmosphere. She could feel the magic all around them, like electricity in the air or a scent in the wind.

“It’s very powerful,” she said. “What did they do here?”

Will shrugged. “They say it’s like a calendar. The Druids celebrated at specific times of the year. At both solstices and both equinoxes. Beltane and Samhain and a couple others I can’t remember. In fact, Sorcha does her Samhain celebration on Friday, if you’ll still be here. The whole island comes to watch. It’s all very pagan.”

“Did they do sacrifices?”

“Like virgins?” He chuckled. “When I was a teenager we used to come out here with girls. We thought the magic would help us get lucky.”

“Did it work?” Claire asked.

“Sometimes. I felt a girl up for the first time right over there. I thought I was doing all right.”

“And do you ever come out here with women now?”

“I’m here with you,” Will said with devilish grin.

Claire chuckled. “And do you expect to get lucky with me?”

Will grabbed her by the waist and drew her over to one of the stones, trapping her against it with his arms. He pressed his hips against hers and stared down into her eyes. “Times have changed. Maybe you should get lucky with me.” He turned her around until he leaned back against the pillar, her hands now braced on either side of his hips.

“Will you let me get to first base?” Claire teased.

He frowned. “First base? As in, baseball?”

“Yes,” she said.

“You played baseball?”

Claire shook her head. “No. It’s just a way of saying how far you went with a boy. Actually, boys use it to discuss their prowess with girls. First base is kissing. Second base is hands under the shirt. Third base is hands in the pants and a home run is full-on sex.”

“No wonder Americans are so fond of baseball,” he said. “Much more interesting than cricket. So we’ve been to second base, then,” Will said.

“We have?”

“Last night,” he said. “There was some groping that went on.” He reached down and slipped his hand beneath her sweater, finding the warm skin beneath.

Claire shivered at his touch, then mimicked his caress, slipping her hand under his sweater and sliding her palm up his chest. “Yes, I suppose you could consider this second base.”

He cupped her lace-covered breast in his palm and ran his thumb over her nipple, drawing it to a peak. Claire sighed softly and closed her eyes and a moment later, his lips met hers in a deep, demanding kiss.

Suddenly, she couldn’t stop touching him. She shoved him against the pillar and pushed his sweater up, revealing the muscled flesh of his abdomen. Impatient, Will shrugged out of his jacket, then yanked his sweater and T-shirt over his head. The brisk wind caused goosebumps on his skin and Claire pressed her lips to his chest. She was still fully clothed and he’d made no move to undress her, his hand still hidden beneath her own sweater.

Slowly, she drew her tongue to his nipple, then circled it several times. It grew to a hard peak under her ministrations and Claire continued to tease at it. He groaned softly, and ran his fingers through her hair, tangling in the windblown strands.

Her hands drifted down his to belt and then lower, smoothing over the fabric of his jeans until she felt his growing erection beneath. Normally, she might have hesitated. But this mystical place made her feel bold and uninhibited, as if they’d stepped into another world where there were no rules, only impulses and desires.

Claire began to work at his belt while Will leaned back against the stone pillar. He watched her as she fumbled with the buckle, holding his breath as if her touch were enough to send him over the edge. Claire had nearly got it unfastened when she felt the first drop of rain hit her head.

A moment later, the skies opened up. She glanced up at Will to see him smiling…and shivering. “I guess the gods have spoken,” he said.

Claire giggled, then reached down and handed him his sweater. “Should we listen to them?”

“Just until we find someplace out of the rain.” Will grabbed his jacket and they ran toward the path, the downpour soaking them both. But Claire didn’t care. She’d never experienced anything quite so exciting as this. There was something between them, some force of nature, that couldn’t be denied.

Was it part of this magical place or part of this land? Where did these feelings come from? And why did she feel so compelled to act upon them? For a moment, she thought about stopping him, about lying down in the soft, wet grass and making love right here in the middle of the meadow.

But in the end, she decided that a warm bed and a crackling fire would be much more conducive to an afternoon of pleasure. And the only place to find that was back at the inn.

“I REALLY DON’T THINK it’s broken.”

Will reached out and gently pushed Claire’s jacket sleeve up to examine her wrist. On the way back to the Range Rover, Claire had slipped on a moss-covered rock and gone down hard. She now lay sprawled in a muddy patch of the footpath, her hair drenched, her clothes dirty.

“Wiggle your fingers,” he said. She winced as she did and Will sat back on his heels. “I think it may be broken.”

“It’s probably just a sprain,” Claire insisted. “Really. Just help me up. It’ll feel better once I put some ice on it.”

Will tugged his jumper over his head and fashioned a crude sling, then slipped into his jacket. He carefully helped her back to the car and once he’d settled her inside, got behind the wheel. As they drove the short distance back to the inn, Will glanced over at her. She was trying to make light of the accident, but it was clear from the tight set of her jaw she was in considerable pain.

Claire met his gaze and forced a smile. “It’s already feeling better,” she assured him.

Will turned his attention back to the road, navigating the bumps and soggy parts as carefully as he could. But every time the Range Rover took a hard bounce, Claire let out a tiny cry of pain.

When they reached the main road, he turned toward the village. “We’ve got a medical clinic here on the island.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he reached out and put his finger over her lips. “Humor me.”

Will reached into his jacket pocket for his mobile and rang up Annie Mulroony, the nurse who staffed the clinic on a daily basis, and Sorcha’s mother. “The doctor comes over from the mainland once a week,” he explained to Claire. “If we’re lucky, he’ll be in today.”

Five minutes later, they arrived at the small, white-washed cottage on the edge of the village. Annie was waiting at the door. She’d been the island’s nurse and midwife for the last twenty-five years and had patched up all manner of minor injuries and seen to the births of most everyone under the age of twenty. The patients she couldn’t handle were sent to the mainland, the serious by helicopter and the rest by the ferry.

“What seems to be the problem, then?” she asked as she helped Claire into the surgery.

“I think it’s just bruised,” Claire said.

Annie glanced over at Will as she settled Claire onto the examining table. “And where were you two mucking about? You look like you just crawled out of the sea.”

“I took her over to the stone circle,” Will replied. “She slipped on the path and fell.”

Annie gave him a disapproving frown. “You know what comes of that business. The gods don’t like it when you desecrate their holy place with hanky-panky.”

“We were just sightseeing,” Will said.

Annie glanced back to Claire. “Is that true, lass?” A flush of pink stained Claire’s cheeks and Annie shook her head. “I see. Well, let’s have an X ray of this, shall we? If it’s broken, we’ll splint it and wait for the doctor to put on a cast. He’ll be here tomorrow.” She glanced over her shoulder to Will. “Young man, you may wait outside.”

Will found a chair in the reception room and distractedly flipped through a copy of Hello! magazine. But the celebrity gossip didn’t occupy his interest and he got up and began to pace the width of the waiting area. He’d never believed in all the superstitions surrounding the stone circle. But Will had to wonder if perhaps he was being punished for taking advantage where he shouldn’t have.