Fire Down Below (32 page)

“I’m sure it will be fine. I sleep
better if the room is on the cold side.”

“Me too,” she says confidingly. “I
can’t stand a stuffy bedroom. I’d never survive in a hot climate. I always say
it’s a good thing I was born Irish, otherwise I’d have spent my whole life miserable.”

I laugh. “I don’t think I’d make
it in a hot climate either, now that I think about it.”

“We’ll have Declan give you a tour
of the house later. I’m guessing you want to rest now. I know it’s a long
journey to get here.” She pauses, lingering in the doorway. “I’m glad you’ll be
joining us for Christmas, Kate. Declan always speaks very highly of you.”

“Thank you.” I feel touched. “It’s
kind of you to have me.”

When she leaves I look at Declan.
“All right, what the heck have you been telling these people about me?”

He pretends to be confused. “I
have no idea what she’s talking about. Hang on—I
did
mention you once—oh
wait, that was somebody else.”

“Shut up,” I say with a grin. “You
know you worship me, admit it.” I walk over to the bed, kick my shoes off, and flop
down. Exhausted doesn’t even come close to describing how tired I am. I don’t
think there’s a word in the English language that describes it adequately.

“Shall I go and let you sleep?”

I turn to Declan who’s still
standing by the dresser. “I’m really sorry for that business in the car. I know
you’re still involved with Nina. I feel embarrassed.”

He comes over and sits down on the
bed beside me. He doesn’t say anything for a moment as if he’s thinking it over.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I wanted to kiss you. We’ve been dancing
around this for a long time now. Too long.”

“What about Nina?”

He shakes his head. “We’re not
involved anymore. I broke it off with her before flying out here.”

“Really? She’s not your
girlfriend?”

“No. The truth is I never even
slept with her. She wanted more from me than I was willing to give.”

I feel relief wash through me so
strong that if I had the energy I’d get up and do an Irish jig.

 “What did she say?” I ask, curious
how a woman like that deals with rejection. I’m guessing it seldom happens to
her.

“She accepted it. Nina’s kind of
cold. She seems very self-centered. Suzy’s not that way is she?”

“No, not at all.”

Declan nods. “Anyway, the
situation amounted to nothing.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t want
her. She’s so beautiful.”

“There’s somebody else I want.”

“Who’s that?”

He smiles and puts his hand out touching
my face. “I think you know.”

I smile shyly and neither of says
anything more. This time when Declan leans over to kiss me there’s no one to interrupt
us and his lips feel tender as they brush over mine. I sense the heat between
us, simmering below the surface. When he pulls away, he doesn’t move far, but
gazes down at me.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says.

I wake up from
a dream where
I’m sleeping in a room filled with flowers, and that’s when I remember I’m in
Ireland. Yesterday comes back to me in a miasma of surreal images, but what I
remember most is that wonderful kiss. We kissed a few more times after the
first one, but I finally sent him away. I didn’t want our first make-out
session to take place while I was exhausted and sick to my stomach from jet
lag. I figured I’d take a short nap and then go join everyone downstairs, but it’s
obvious I slept longer than that.

I squint at my wrist watch in the
dark, trying to make out the time. It says nine o’clock and after doing the
math in my head I think that means it’s five o’clock in the morning in Ireland.
Declan was right when he said I should have tried to stay up longer.

I close my eyes in an attempt to
fall asleep again, but my mind is too busy. I keep thinking about one of the
things my mom said after I told her I was coming here—how she thought Declan
would be good for me. I haven’t been with many men who are good for me. Nearly
all the guys I’ve dated since Ben have been inconsequential pretty boys.

As I’m pondering this, I hear movement
in the house. I listen quietly and when I hear footsteps walking downstairs I
figure it’s safe to get up. I grab some clean clothes and my toiletry bag. In
the hallway I notice all the other closed doors and wonder which room is Declan’s.
Eventually I find the bathroom and then head downstairs, where to my utter
delight, I can already smell coffee brewing.

As I wander around searching for
the kitchen I admire all the Christmas decorations. Holly is strung up and there’s
a slender robed St. Nicholas figurine sitting on a side table. In the living
room stands a large tree with an angel on top and gifts beneath it. The house
is gorgeous. I had no idea Declan’s family was so well off.

“Good morning, Kate,” Marion says,
when I finally find the kitchen. “Would you like some coffee? Or there’s tea if
you prefer.”

“Yes, coffee please. That smells
wonderful.” I try to get it myself, but she shoos me away and tells me to have
a seat at the table. She brings me a cup and I mix in a heavy dollop of cream. “You
have a beautiful home.”

“Thank you. It’s a bit large for
just Martin and me anymore, but neither of us can bring ourselves to part with
it.”

  “I don’t blame you. I’m sorry I
fell asleep so early yesterday. I meant to come downstairs and be more social.”

She puts a large frying pan on the
stove and shakes her head. “Don’t be silly. Obviously you were exhausted. Declan
always has terrible jet lag when he flies in. You should see the way he tries
to stay awake.” She laughs. “It gets so he’s practically walking into walls.”

“I can imagine. And he’d never
admit defeat and go to sleep either.”

She nods. “It sounds like you know
him well. He’s always been stubborn, even as a boy. Once he’s set on a course
of action, it’s difficult to persuade him otherwise.”

I pick up my coffee, holding it
with both hands. “It makes him both appealing and infuriating. Especially at
work—he used to be my boss,” I explain.

“Really? I didn’t know that. I
hear his new business is doing well. I know how determined he is to make it a
success. Do you still work with him?”

“No.” I explain my current
situation and she nods.

“Declan said you were a friend,
but I didn’t know how you two met.  He doesn’t like it when I pry into his love
life, but what can I say? I’m his mother.”

 “Uh oh, you two aren’t talking
about me, are you?”

We both turn to find Declan
standing in the doorway. He’s wearing loose striped pajama bottoms and a short
sleeved t-shirt, looking handsome in a sleep tousled sort of way. 

“Unfortunately we’ve barely gotten
started.” His mother winks at me. “Maybe you could go back to bed and give us a
chance for some real girl talk.”

He grins. “In that case I’d better
stay.”

“There’s fresh coffee.” She
motions to the side. “I’m getting ready to make a breakfast fry. Would you like
some? I thought Kate might enjoy it.”

“That’d be grand.” Declan grabs a
cup of coffee, and then comes over to sit next to me at the table. “Look who’s
awake. How are you feeling this morning?”

“A lot better.  Although I’ve been
awake since five o’clock.” I peer down at my watch. After doing the mental
gymnastics I figure it’s now almost six-thirty. “Are you guys always up this
early?”

“Not me,” Declan says yawning.
“But for some reason everybody else in my family is up at dawn.”

“You eat meat, don’t you Kate?” Marion
asks over her shoulder. “Declan never mentioned whether you were veggie or
not.”

“Yes, I eat meat. Do you want me
to help you with anything?”

“No, just relax. I don’t get to
cook like this very often, so it’s a pleasure.  

There’s a sizzling sound and then
the smell of bacon permeates the kitchen.

“What’s a breakfast fry?” I ask
Declan.

He chuckles. “You’ll see. Heart
attack on a plate is what it’s best known as.”

“So Declan tells me that your
parents are on holiday in Greece,” Marion says, coming over to stand next to the
table for a moment. “That sounds lovely.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’re having a great
time.” I tell her about my dad’s affinity with Crete and that my great
grandparents were Greek. She asks where my mother’s family is from and I tell
her they’re mostly French with some English thrown in.

“No Irish, huh?” she muses. “You
almost look Irish with your dark hair and fair skin. Do you have brothers and
sisters?”

“No, it’s just me. I think my
parents wanted more kids, but it wasn’t in the cards for them.”

“That’s too bad. What do they do
for work?”

Declan puts down his mug. “Ma,
stop interrogating her.”

I laugh. “I don’t mind. It doesn’t
feel like an interrogation.” I tell her that my mom is a psychologist and my
dad a retired city planner.

She nods in approval. Apparently
I’m passing the test, if there is one. Though something tells me it wouldn’t
matter if my parents were hippies living in a school bus, as long as Declan
likes me, she’d like me too.

“I thought I’d died and gone to
heaven, but you really are cooking rashers and eggs.”

We turn and there’s a tall older gentleman
walking into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Martin,” Declan says
and they nod at each other.

“Those aren’t for you.” Marion moves
back over to the stove. “I’m doing a fry up for the kids. Our guest, Kate here,
has never had a traditional Irish breakfast.”

Martin puts his hand out to me.
“Good to meet you, Kate. I’m Martin.”

We shake hands and I tell him it’s
nice to meet him too, realizing he must be Declan’s stepfather. He takes a seat
at the table and regards Marion pleadingly. “A few bites won’t hurt. It’s been
ages since I’ve had a decent breakfast.”

Marion sighs and then smiles. “All
right, but only a few. I don’t want to see your cholesterol go up again. You
remember what the doctor said.”

Martin smiles at us like a kid
who’s gotten away with something. “So how was your flight over?” he asks me.

We discuss the current travails of
air travel. Martin seems nice enough and strikes me as the type of man that was
probably stuffy when he was younger, but has mellowed with age. From what I can
tell he and Declan get along fine, but I don’t get the impression they’re close.
After a short while Marion brings over a couple of plates filled with eggs,
bacon, sausage, tomato and some odd-looking fried items, placing them in front
of me and Declan.

“There you are,” she says. “An
Irish breakfast.”

“Thank you. Wow, this looks
serious.”

“Don’t worry. Just eat until
you’re satisfied. I don’t expect you to finish everything.”

“What’s this over here?” I ask,
pointing to the fried items I don’t recognize.

“You don’t want to know,” Declan
says, shoveling in a mouthful of eggs.

“I don’t?”

“Blood pudding.”

I get an alarmed expression on my
face and Declan laughs.

“Now you’re scaring her,” Marion
says. “Don’t worry. It’s all quite delicious.”

“I take it this isn’t what you
guys usually eat for breakfast?”

No,” Declan says. “It’s too much
for most people every day.”

“Though there’s nothing like a
good breakfast fry,” Martin says longingly.

“Yes, we know,” Marion puts her
hands on his shoulders. “Unfortunately Martin
would
eat it every day
given half the chance. He used to and that’s why he’s no longer allowed.”

“I have to eat grapefruit for
breakfast now,” Martin says in mock injury. “Isn’t that sad?”

We smile and I think about my
dad’s heart attack, how he’s always loved rich food like this too.

Marion comes back with a small
plate for Martin and some toast and fruit for herself. She asks what our plans
are for the day and Declan and I look at each other and shrug.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing the
Book
of Kells
,” I say.

“Really?” Declan seems surprised.

“I thought it looked interesting. Plus
it will be fun to visit Trinity College and give Lauren the lowdown when I get
home. I’ll bring my camera and take some photos.”

***

It’s another sunny, crisp day
outside as we walk around Trinity College. The architecture is beautiful with
stone buildings and cobblestone walkways. There are tree-lined areas and
benches to sit on. Because of winter break there aren’t many people, but it’s
easy to imagine how it would look filled with students bustling between
classes. I stop and take some photos from a few different angles.

“I guess you brought the sun with
you from Seattle,” Declan says, reaching down to take my hand as we continue to
walk around.

I laugh, trying to act nonchalant
about the hand holding. “I don’t think I’ve ever been accused of
that
before.”

“Me either, it’s usually the rain
I’m accused of bringing.”

 His hand feels good around mine,
and I have to admit, even that bit of contact between us is setting off sparks
in me. I think of all the ways I’ve fantasized about him.

The
Book of Kells
is in the
Old Library Building and there are a surprising number of tourists. We have to
walk through a bustling souvenir shop to get to the exhibition and once we’re
there it’s even more crowded. The exhibition is interesting; even though it
turns out they only display two pages of the actual manuscript. Unfortunately,
I’m not allowed to take photos.

“The details are amazing,” I say,
pointing at one of the large posters displaying a blown up page of the book.

Declan nods and slips his hand in
mine again as we shuffle through the exhibit following the queue of people.

“Just think how much work went
into all this,” I continue, “and how it was made so long ago.”

“It’s very intricate,” he murmurs,
running his fingers around my wrist and then down again, moving his thumb in
slow circles over my palm. My breath catches at the erotic way he’s touching
me. When I glance up at him, he seems indifferent though and only meets my gaze
briefly. I try to keep my outward appearance normal too.

We continue to follow the crowd winding
around each display and as we do, he keeps touching me in this intimate way.
His fingers sliding between mine—back and forth. I never knew holding hands
could be so sensual. I feel a slow warmth spreading through my body. It’s
difficult to even keep my breath steady. I’m still pretending to study the
exhibition when Declan leans down and whispers in my ear.

“I want to be alone with you.”

He stares at my mouth. This time when
his gaze meets my eyes it’s heated and I realize the indifference he showed
earlier was an act. As we walk through the rest of the exhibit, swallowed by
the crowd, I start to do the same thing to him that he was doing to me. Running
my hand under his coat sleeve, touching him, grazing his wrist with my nails,
and when I milk his fingers, I hear an intake of breath. He pulls his hand from
mine and slides it around my waist instead, drawing me in tight against him, so
he’s pressed directly behind me.

“You’re a bad girl,” he says in a
low voice. “I never knew that about you.”

I smile. “You started it.”

He pushes my hair aside with his
other hand so his fingers graze my neck. “I’m not complaining. I like bad
girls.”

“And what are we going to do about
that?”

“Don’t worry, I have a few ideas.”

Some people jostle us accidentally
as we continue moving with the queue. Luckily we’re close to the end. There’s a
large mob huddled around the glass case that displays the actual pages from the
Book of Kells
.

Declan shakes his head in annoyance.
“This is ridiculous. I don’t care whether I see it, but I know you want to.
Come on.”

He presses his way through the
crowd, still holding my hand, clearing a path. Eventually we get to the front
and are finally able to see those glorious two pages. It is neat, but I have to
admit it doesn’t seem worth all the fuss. I’m reminded of viewing the Mona Lisa
years ago at the Louvre. It was like seeing a celebrity in real life and discovering
they’re much less attractive than you thought.

I notice a sign for something
called The Long Room and I motion at it to Declan.

“Let’s go check that out.”

We walk upstairs and discover a
library that consists of a long hallway with book cases on both sides. It
smells ancient and according to one of the signs, many of the manuscripts are
two hundred years old. Like downstairs, there are a lot of people milling about.
We poke around a bit and when we walk past a stairway with a small alcove,
Declan suddenly pulls me behind it.

I look at him in surprise, but he
doesn’t give me time to ask questions as he pins me against the wall and starts
kissing me. I wrap my arms around his neck and our mouths are a jumble of
tongues, lips, and teeth. His hand slips down, squeezing my waist while his
other hand reaches further, lifting my leg, so we’re pressed tightly against
each other. My blood is turning to fire and when I reach behind Declan and grab
him, pulling him to me, he groans into my mouth and then draws back, his breath
ragged, his heart beating fast like mine.

I try to capture his mouth again,
but he leans his brow against my forehead, trying to steady himself.

“Christ Kate, I’ve wanted you for
so long...this is difficult for me...I know I’m rushing you.”

“You’re not rushing me. I want you
too.”

“I’m not looking for a fast fuck.”

I let my breath out. “Me either.”

“I’ve thought about this so many
times. I want us to be together.”

I put both of my hands up to his
face and pull his head down so I can look into his eyes. They’re filled with
lust and longing just like mine. “I’ve thought about you a hundred times and in
a hundred different ways. I’ve fantasized about you even when I shouldn’t.”

“Is that true?”

I nod. “It is.”

“God...,” he groans and brings his
mouth crashing onto mine again. His hands reach down and grab my ass, lifting
me up, so I can wrap my legs around his waist. Squirming I feel the hard length
of him against me. My mind is so gone with lust I don’t even think about where
we are or what we’re doing and that we’re practically having sex in this tiny
alcove only steps away from hordes of people. It isn’t until one of those
hoards speaks in a British accent right around the corner that reality interrupts
with a rude slap.

“Where do you think these stairs
lead?” Some woman says.

Declan and I freeze. We’re both
panting and staring at each other like a couple of thieves caught in the vault.
I glance down at myself and notice that he’s managed to lift my sweater, pull up
my bra, and that one of his hands is on my exposed breast. For an alarming
moment I wonder if we could be arrested for public indecency.

“I think that’s closed,” a second woman
says. “There’s a chain across the top of the stairs there.”

The first speaker murmurs
something in agreement and then from what I can tell they both wander off.  

Declan has his head to the side
with his mouth open, listening. When he turns back there’s an incredulous expression
on his face.

“Shite!”

I swallow and nod, relief flooding
through me. When our eyes meet we both start to laugh. Declan buries his face
in my neck as we cling to each other, our whole bodies shaking with laughter.  

“I was scared we’d be arrested!” I
wail quietly and this only makes him laugh harder.

Finally we manage to calm down and
untangle ourselves. I readjust my clothes, while Declan watches with interest. “That
was close, but definitely worth it.”

We make our way outside walking
around again he asks me what I’d like to do with the rest of the day.

“Any more touristy things from
your
Best of Dublin
guide that you’d like to see? I have to admit going
to the
Book of Kells
was
a lot
more fun than I expected.”

I stop walking. “You know what I’d
like to do? I’d like you to show me your version of the city. The places that were
important to you—where you went to school, where you hung out. Would that be
okay?”

He studies me for a few seconds
and then nods. “Sure, you mean like where I lived? That sort of thing?”

“Exactly. Although didn’t you grow
up in the house we’re staying at now?”

He shakes his head. “No, I grew up
in the Northside. We didn’t move down here until after my mom married Martin. I
was nearly a teenager.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah...come on,” he says with a
grin, grabbing my hand. “I’ll give you the
real
tour.”