A Mighty Quinn Seduction (The Mighty Quinns) (3 page)

Claire nodded, risking a glance over at him. “I know I’m acting like a bloody lunatic. I mean, I can feel myself spinning out of control here.”

“You’re not a lunatic.”

“Oh, yes, I am. I’m stark raving mad. All I can think about is ripping off my clothes and shagging you silly.”

“And that’s bad because?”

“Because, I’ve made so many stupid mistakes when it comes to men. And I don’t want to make more. So...”

“So, you want to forget all about that shagging me silly idea?”

Claire met his gaze. “For the present.”

He nodded. “All right. But may I pose one question?”

“Sure,” Claire said.

“How long will the present last? Just curious.”

“I don’t know. I suppose we’ll have to come to some type of agreement on that.”

“An agreement? How would that work?”

“We’d both agree that we’re not going to do anything...rash before a certain date or time.”

“That seems to take some of the spontaneity out of the whole process, doesn’t it?” He grabbed the door and opened it. “Come on, let’s go get some dinner and we can discuss this over a meal.”

“You can’t kiss me anymore,” she warned.

“That’s why we’re going to eat. I’ll find it easier to control myself. But I’m not going to make any promises.”

They walked to a small pub near Claire’s flat and found a table in a quiet corner. She ordered a beer and a bowl of soup from the waitress and Ian ordered the same. He watched her from the opposite side of the table, concerned by the change in her demeanor. What had happened to the free-spirited, audacious woman he’d met yesterday? “You don’t have to be frightened of me,” he murmured. “I would never hurt you.”

“You say that now, but in my experience no one ever really plans to hurt the person they love. And yet there are heartbroken people all over the world.” She paused. “Not that you’re going to fall in love with me. I’m off my nut. You’d be a fool to fall in love with that.”

“You’re entirely loveable,” he said. “But I understand how you feel.”

“You do?” She gave him a hopeful smile. “How? Did someone step on your heart, too?”

“Is that what happened to you?”

Claire drew a deep breath. “His name was Simon and I should have known from the start that he was out of my league. Wealthy, handsome, a bit older than me and looking for a summer girlfriend. I fell madly in love, he went home and that was the end of it.”

“All the better for me,” Ian said. “We wouldn’t be sitting here if you were happily married to Simon, would we?”

She giggled. “No. You are right about that.”

The waitress brought their soup and drinks and Ian held out the plate of bread and watched her as she grabbed a slice. “Tell me about this plan.”

“We need to focus on work,” she said. “So I think we should stop talking about sex and talk about the film.”

“All right.” Ian sat back. “Let’s talk.”

“I—I spoke with my brother today and he wants me to find more information about the orphanage that Aileen lived in. But I noticed that you didn’t identify it by name in the manuscript. Why was that?”

Ian shrugged then reached out and hooked his finger around hers. “That’s the way she wrote it. It’s her autobiography, so all I really do is edit it. And I assumed she wasn’t really interested in talking about the details.”

“Well, it’s a major part of the story and Dex wants some visuals to use and I can’t find photos unless I specifically know what I’m looking for.”

“I suppose I could ask her,” Ian said.

“That would be good,” Claire replied. Her gaze fell to the table, to their linked fingers. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. Ian resisted the urge to pull away. He needed to touch her, to maintain this powerful connection between them. Was she going to make touching against the rules as well?

He smoothed his fingers over the back of her hand, his touch so soft that he barely thought it was having an effect. “How many days are we going to go on like this?” Ian asked. “I’m going to need to know so I can pace myself.”

“I’m not certain,” Claire said. “How long do you usually wait until to you take a woman to bed?”

Ian chuckled softly. “I don’t think I’m a good example to follow.”

“How long?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes months.”

Claire groaned. “Months? You wait months? But how can that be? Don’t you get...impatient?”

Frowning, Ian shook his head. “No. Of course, I don’t think about it much. When it happens, it just happens. There’s never really a plan. One thing leads to another and there it is. There’s nothing much left to do except...do it.”

She considered this revelation for a moment. “Months?”

“Don’t you think we’re taking the wrong approach? This seems entirely too academic for something so natural.”

Claire reached for her beer and took a slow sip. “So you’re saying we should just let nature take its course?”

“Yes.”

“Even if nature takes its course immediately after we finish our supper?” she asked.

Ian had never talked so frankly about sex before. But it was rather liberating to just be honest and upfront about his desires. All of this negotiating before hand was an intriguing part of the seduction. Should they or shouldn’t they? It made an tantalizing subject for discussion.

“Yes,” he said after a long pause.

He was getting better at this negotiation as he went along. And what was the harm of telling her exactly what he wanted? After all, he’d never needed to possess a woman as much as he did Claire. There was some instinct, an overwhelming desire that seemed to be driving forward, toward the inevitable.

“Suppose we make an agreement,” he said. “Suppose we say, no sex for three months.”

“Three months?” Claire cried.

“All right, four months?”

“No! Not that long.”

“How long? Make me an offer and I’ll consider it.”

“A month?” she said. “Three weeks. Or maybe a fortnight.” Claire groaned. “I don’t know.”

Ian shoved his chair back and held out his hand. “Come with me.”

He gently drew her out of her chair. The place was nearly empty and they walked toward the rear of the pub. A small alcove held a public phone and Ian pulled her into the shadowy interior and swept her into a long, deep kiss.

A tiny cry of surprise slipped from her lips but he covered the sound with his mouth, his tongue eager to taste her. He’d never been quite so bold with a woman, but there was something about Claire that made him impatient with all polite behaviors. In the past, he’d always been so polite, but where had it gotten him. Now was the time to be perfectly clear about what he wanted.

Ian smoothed his hand along her hip, then moved higher to her waist and then to the soft swell of her breast beneath her blouse. She groaned as he caressed her, his thumb teasing at her hardening nipple.

“A week,” his murmured, his lips brushing against hers.

“A week,” she agreed. “From today.”

“From the day we met.” Though it didn’t seem like much, Ian wasn’t even sure he’d be able to wait that long, but then he’d never been waiting for a woman like Claire Kennedy.

3

C
LAIRE
SLAMMED
THE
book shut and looked up at Ian. “This is bloody ridiculous.” She shoved her papers into her bag and stood up. “No one should have to spend a perfectly lovely Sunday afternoon in a smelly old archive. We are getting out of here.”

They’d been working together for the last few days and on the whole, had been getting along quite well. But there was always “the week,” that agreement they’d made, standing between them.

They hadn’t discussed their attraction to each other since that night at the pub. But that didn’t mean it hadn’t disappeared. They still touched and even kissed each other good-bye, but Ian was careful to stop as soon as it felt as if one them was about to lose control.

Claire had never known a man like him. He respected her and sensed that she’d reached a turning point in her life. And he was giving her the time to work through all her doubts and insecurities about men in the hopes that they could share something special.

She had to wonder at her good fortune in stumbling across a man like him. In years past, she never would have given him a chance. But from the moment they met, she felt as if she could trust him with her heart.

“What?” he murmured, his nose still buried in an old book.

“We need to get out of here. It’s a beautiful day and I don’t want to be trapped inside these musty old stacks. Let’s take the day off and have some fun.” She held out her hand and wiggled her fingers. “Come on, we’re going to enjoy a little holiday. If you don’t get some sun, you’re going to just fade away into nothingness.”

“I—I’m English,” he muttered as he got to his feet. “We don’t usually spend a lot of time in the sun.”

Claire dropped a quick kiss on his lips. “I suppose you’ve never shagged in the great wide open, then?”

Ian gave her a crooked smile. “Of course not.”

“Then you’re in for a treat,” Claire replied.

“It’s only been four days,” he warned.

“I am up to ninety with that bloody agreement,” Claire said.

“I made a deal and I intend to stand by it. However, if you’d like to convince me differently, I’ll certainly listen.”

This had turned into a silly game between them and though it had been a laugh, Claire was growing impatient. She wanted more than just a flirtation. But four days was nothing. It wasn’t even a week. It was too fast, too soon.

They gathered up their things and Ian followed her to her car. “Where are we going?” he asked.

“First we’re going to grab some lunch at the grocers and then I’m going to take you to one of my favorite places. We’ll have a picnic and pray that it won’t rain.”

After stopping at the grocery store, they headed out into the countryside, following the coast road on the north shore of the Iveragh peninsula.

When she pulled the car over to the side of the road, Ian glanced over at her. “Here?” he asked. “Right by the side of the road?”

“No,” she said. “We’re going over there. Just over that hill.”

“What’s over there?”

“You’ll see,” she said.

Though neither of them was really dressed for a hike, they set off over the field, Ian carrying the paper sack that contained their lunch and Claire carrying a picnic blanket. She smiled to herself as they slowly came over the rise and the ruin of the old priory came into view. Somehow, she knew he’d love this and that it was something she wanted to share with him.

Ian stopped and took in the landscape, then sighed.

“I know,” Claire said.

He glanced around. “You’d never know it was here. You can’t see it from the road.”

“It’s not on any of the tourist maps, so there are never any people about. It looks like we’ll have it all to ourselves.”

As she started toward the old priory, Ian grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him. Slipping his arm around her waist, he drew her into a long kiss, his tongue tasting deeply as their bodies molded together in an erotic dance.

Claire moaned softly, then drew back. “What was that for?”

“For showing me this,” he murmured.

“It’s nice to see and touch history sometimes,” she said. “It isn’t all in musty old books.”

As they walked down the hill, Claire explained what she knew of the history of the priory. They walked through a ruined doorway, the pointed gothic arches still standing above them, then wandered through the interior. There were still arched doorways left, some with remnants of the religious decoration.

“Dex and I made one of our first movies right here,” she said. “I wrote the story and we played all the parts ourselves.”

“I would love to see it,” Ian murmured.

She laughed. “We were a pair of queer hawks. It’s a wonder we turned out as well as we did. And I would be mortified to show you that film.”

“Then I’ll have to ask Dex if he’ll show it to me,” Ian countered. “I’d like to know what you were like as a girl.”

“What about you?” Claire asked. “What were you like as a lad?”

“Exactly like I am now,” he joked.

“No, tell me.”

Ian wandered over to one of the walls, examining it closely. “I don’t think I’ve told you that I was adopted, have I?”

“No,” she said.

“I don’t really talk about it. My parents were a bit older when they got me. I can’t be sure why they decided to adopt because once they had me, they didn’t really seem as if they wanted me. And it turns out that they didn’t. I overheard them talking one night and my mother was saying that they adopted me so they’d have someone to take care of them when they were old.”

A tiny gasp slipped from her lips and Ian forced a smile. He’d never once said that out loud, keeping it tightly locked inside him for nearly twenty years. But now that he’d let it out, it felt like a weight had been lifted.

“I’m so sorry,” Claire said. She stepped up to him and took his hand, then pressed her lips to his fingertips.

“There’s no need to be sorry,” Ian said. “I’ve come to grips with who my parents are and I realize that I can’t really change how they feel. I tried for a very long time, hoping they’d see me as the perfect son, but in the end, they just couldn’t truly love me. They have each other and that’s all they really need.” He slipped his arms around her waist. “So what was this film about? Tell me more.”

He’d deftly changed the subject and Claire decided to follow his lead. When he wanted to tell her more, he would. And when he did, she’d do everything she could to assure him that he deserved to be loved. After all, she’d fallen in a little bit in love with him already.

“I don’t remember the details, but it had to do with a hole in time. We were very much into science fiction, the two of us. Dex thought he wanted to make big Hollywood movies and I was sure I’d become an actress. But things didn’t turn out quite as we’d planned. I suppose that’s what life is all about.”

They continued to explore the ruins and when they were finished, Claire spread the blanket out on a patch of grass growing inside the walls of the priory. She plopped down then patted the ground beside her. Ian handed her the sack and sat down, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

“Do you ever wonder what Ireland would look like today if Queen Mary had given Henry the Eighth a son? Your entire history would have been rewritten. England could still be Roman Catholic, Cromwell wouldn’t have wrecked the priories and abbeys and this place might still be standing.”

“He might still have fallen in love with Anne Boleyn,” Claire said.

“But he wouldn’t have married her. He wouldn’t have needed a male heir. And all that turmoil suffered over the years might never have happened.”

She opened one of the beers and handed it to him. “But then, I guess something else would have come along to bollocks things up.”

“Passion is a powerful force,” he murmured. “Wars have been fought over the love of a woman.”

“Men can be so foolish,” Claire said.

“I don’t know,” Ian replied. “I guess I never understood it until now.”

“Now if women had been running things back then—”

“Men would spend their time eating picnic lunches in ruined priories and shagging in the out of doors?”

“A much better use of one’s time than waging wars and pillaging the countryside, don’t you think?”

She took a sip of her beer and tiny burp slipped from her lips and Claire smiled. “Sorry.”

“No,” he said. “Don’t ever apologize for being you. I like you exactly as you are.”

“Cursing and belching and saying inappropriate things to you?”

Ian nodded. “I’ve never met anyone quite like you. You’re very...unconventional.”

“I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not,” Claire said.

“Oh, it’s most definitely a compliment,” Ian said.

“Yeah?” She gave him a devilish smile, then set her beer down and crawled across the blanket to kneel in front of him. “And what would someone so unconventional do next?”

“I’m sure she’d kiss me again,” he said, his gaze falling to her lips.

“And then?”

“And then she might strip off some of her clothes,” he continued.

“And then?”

“And then I’m sure she’d remove some of my clothes, too.” He nuzzled her neck. “But then, I suppose we’re dealing entirely in hypotheticals, because you and I have an agreement.”

Claire cursed softly, then crawled off his lap. “You’re a very cruel man, Ian Stephens, and I can’t think why I even fancy you.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it all out in a few days,” he teased.

* * *

I
AN
GLANCED
AT
his watch. He’d been counting down the hours until this moment. Last Thursday evening, he and Claire had met at the pub and at midnight tonight their agreement would expire. Now that the clock was ticking down, he wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

They hadn’t seen each other yesterday, but he’d rung and they’d made a date for dinner the next evening. Claire had requested that he pick her up at her flat at six, but now that the time was at hand, Ian was beginning to wonder if they ought to wait just a bit longer. Expectations were high and he was beginning to feel the stress of the moment. And it had only been a week.

Though they hadn’t known each other long, he found it so easy to talk to Claire, to tell her whatever might be on his mind. He ought to just explain how he was feeling now. After all, he wanted their first time to be memorable. “Relax,” Ian murmured to himself as he got out of his car.

He jogged up to the door and rang the bell, then waited. A few seconds later, the door swung open and Claire grabbed his hand, yanking him inside.

“Come on,” she said. “Hurry, hurry. I have something to show you.”

Ian wasn’t sure what to expect, but when he stepped into her apartment, it didn’t look any different than it had the day before—except for more papers and books scattered across the table. “I rang you earlier. Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“I forgot to charge it.”

“Look at this. Remember when we were talking about Aileen’s time in the orphanage and you said she wasn’t specific about where the place was? I think I’ve figured it out. In the manuscript, Aileen mentions learning to read and a nun named Sister Bernadette. And I remember coming across a book on the Magdalene laundries in Ireland when I was doing some research for my master’s degree. It was written by a nun who used to live at the Good Shepherd convent in Cork. She was known as Sister Bernadette. Aileen’s Sister Bernadette. She even talks about Aileen in her book, but doesn’t mention her by name.” Claire pulled him toward the table. “Here, let me show you.”

Ian sat down beside her and watched as she flipped through the book. Had she forgotten about their agreement? Or was she just so excited about her discovery that the though of sex with him got dropped down her “to do” list?

“Where did you get this?”

“I drove to Dublin yesterday,” she said.

“Didn’t you have to work?”

She shook her head. “I bunked. I called in sick. Here. Read that.”

Ian scanned the text and then went over it again. She was right. “I’m impressed,” he said. “But what difference does this make?”

“Well, now we have visuals that we can use to tell the orphanage story. Good Shepherd Orphanage.”

“But if Aileen wanted you to tell that part of her story, she would have told you the name of the orphanage. I asked her and she said it wasn’t important. I don’t see the point.”

“Of course you don’t. A book is just letters on a page and maybe a few pictures. But Dex’s film has to have images. And this will be very powerful.” She stared at him. “You have heard about the Magdalene laundries, haven’t you?”

Ian had read the stories. How girls and young women had been forced into servitude, how they toiled in the laundries under outrageous conditions, simply because they were poor or without family or deemed impure by society. The stories had recently come to light and it had caused quite a scandal—a scandal Aileen Quinn had deliberately chosen to avoid.

“Have you told Dex yet?” Ian asked.

“I told him yesterday. He and Marlie were visiting the orphanage today to scout the location. They’re going to talk to Aileen about filming her there and getting her recollections.”

“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Ian said. “You need to call Dex and tell him to hold off. Aileen does not need to deal with this. It would only bring back bad memories.”

She gave him an uneasy look. “But her omitting it doesn’t mean that we can’t use it. Our film has nothing at all do with her book.”

“Your film? It’s your brother’s film, isn’t it? You don’t really have a stake in it. You’re just helping out.”

Her forehead creased into a scowl. “I—I can’t believe you just said that.”

“I’m sorry, but I completely disagree with the need to include this information in the film. Never mind that I don’t think you should invade her privacy like this, but this is entirely her choice.”

Ian had grown very fond of Aileen. She’d given him an incredible opportunity in working with her. They had become friends and he’d learned to be very protective of her legacy. Though his instincts as a historian had always erred on the side of the truth, she was writing an autobiography and, as such, she was the only one who determined what would be included on the page.