Irish Dreams (5 page)

* * * *

“Maggie.” Chest constricting, Ethan stood.

“Ethan, where are you going?” Kara asked.

“I’m sorry.” He dug in his wallet then laid down several hundred-euro notes. “This should more than cover dinner. I must go. I’ll call you.”

“Wait. What about later?”

“I’m sorry, Kara. Thank you for everything.” He headed toward the entrance.

“Yes, run along after her,” Rick said. Ethan paused as the other man downed a glass of wine and grinned. “Remember whatever you get now is sloppy seconds.”

Heat seared through Ethan and he pulled his fist back before landing it squarely against Rick’s face. The crush of bone beneath knuckles gave him a moment’s satisfaction, even as a burn spread over the surface of his fist. Rick’s head whipped back, and he cupped the trickle of blood making its way over his upper lip.

Shaking out his hand, Ethan backed away. “Come near Maggie again, I’ll kill you. Are we clear?”

“Fuck. I think you broke my nose.”

Without waiting for any further response, he left the restaurant. “Maggie,” he called. The streets appeared lifeless. He turned full circle, searching out some sign of her. In the dim light of a streetlamp, a few reddish ringlets peeked out beyond an edge of a building alcove.

He approached slowly, wary of scaring her off. Beneath a brick and mortar arch, she leaned against a wall, supporting herself with both hands pressed behind her.

“Please.” She kept her head bent, her gaze downward. “Go back to your wife. I need…you…please, leave me alone.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not? Didn’t you get enough of a show in there?”

An ache spread within him at the pain evident in her voice. “Let me take you home. You’ll be waiting a lifetime, trying for a cab at this hour.”

“All this wasted time.” She lifted her chin. Thick tears hung from her lashes, spilled onto her cheeks. “I was blind.”

“Happens to us all.” At least she hadn’t made the mistake of marrying Rick. He tilted her chin up until her gaze met his. “You did the right thing by walking away from him.”

She glanced away and laughed. “Took me long enough.”

“It’s never too late. Besides, maybe now you’ll meet a man worthy of you.”

“I think I’m done with men. At least right now.”

“That there would be a pity.”

Glassy eyes widened, she braced for his kiss. Her soft lips yielded to him and her lashes fluttered closed. She released a small whimper. Down her narrow back over her flared hips, he worked his way with his hands then cupped her rear and pulled her against him. Could she feel the desire between them? “Maggie.”

She pushed at him. “Oh God. Stop.” She shoved hard. “I’m no better than him.”

Who was she talking about? “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not. You’re married. Rick was right.”

“Listen.” Ethan grasped her shoulders. “Rick is an ass. I’m not a married man.”

A line creased between her brows and she bit her bottom lip. “But the woman inside the restaurant...the other day, I thought when she came over...”

“Kara is my lawyer. We were celebrating my ex-wife finally signing divorce papers. I signed the final version.” Exhaling a long breath, he bowed his head. “The other day, yes, I made a mistake by kissing you. A wonderful mistake, but I was a married man. Today, however, I’m not. The kiss feels right. Don’t deny it.”

“Divorce?”

He leaned back on the wall. Exposing this much of himself frightened him, but the urge to soothe her ruled. “Yes. Turns out we have something dreadful in common. She cheated on me with a co-worker in her advertising firm.”

“I’m sorry. I caught Rick sleeping with a fellow professor. I should have suspected something. His criticism of her was always exaggerated.” She sighed. “It’s been hard. I don’t wish this experience on anybody.”

Ethan shrugged. The night Miriam admitted cheating he’d gone crazy, drank near a whole bottle of Jameson to kick off a week-long drunken stupor. Two years later, things were different. “At first, it was hard for me too. During our separation, I wondered if she ever loved me. My grandparents and parents enjoyed wonderful marriages. I’d always imagined the same for myself.”

“It still might happen. You’re only what, early thirties?”

“Thirty-three. Perhaps.” Or one could only hope. He held out a hand. “You ready to leave?”

She nodded, slipped her hand in his. A shock of electricity shot up his arm. Her gaze registered surprise, even as her fingers knotted in the front of his sweater. “I want you,” she said.

He could feel himself leaning forward. Closer. Her mouth was hot when she kissed him, and on her tongue, the fruity flavored wine she’d drunk tickled his senses. As he pulled her closer, she slipped her hands beneath the thick sweater’s material, ran them along the surface of his chest.

His body trembled at her touch. “Christ, Maggie. I want you.” He gripped her sides and lifted, pressed her against the alcove wall. She whimpered and hugged his hips with her thighs. Beneath her sweater, her skin felt like silk. He pushed the material up, exposing a black lace bra, which encased small, rounded breasts. “Damn, you’re beautiful. Why you buried yourself in this sweater is a mystery to me.” With a downward tug of lace, a rosy nipple popped over the edge of the demi-cup. Bending, he took the nipple into his mouth and rolled it with his tongue. The skin constricted further, hardened into a rounded peak.

She undulated her hips between him and the wall. Her moans heightened in pitch.

He slipped a hand past the elastic band of her skirt, underneath her satiny underwear. “You’re wet.” With a finger, he found her nub, flicked it back and forth, and switched to pleasure her other breast with his mouth. What he’d give to be inside her, stroke every inch of her. She bucked against him, thrust her breasts forward. He groaned, squeezed a nipple between his lips. Spreading the slick warmth of her sheath with two fingers, he pumped in and out of her and rolled her nub with his thumb, catching a rhythm. “Come for me,” he whispered.

Her cries grew louder.

“That’s it.” He kissed her hard, swallowing the sounds as her body stiffened against him. Her head rolled back, lolling sideways. The limbs within his grasp relaxed. “Ethan.”

“I’m here,
a thaisce
.” Treasure. He kissed her lightly on the forehead, cradling her. This couldn’t possibly last forever, could it? As he adjusted her clothes, he bent and kissed her one last time then pulled away. “It’s late. Let’s get you home.”

Chapter 6

Like a cat which had drunk her fill of milk, Maggie stretched out on the sofa and yawned.

“I’m not sure why you’re tired,” Elsie said. “You must have slept nearly ten hours. My guess is you needed sleep after these adventurous past couple days. So spill the beans. What happened with Rick last night?”

Ugh, Rick. She didn’t like remembering anything about Rick. “He behaved as his typical ass self. I should have listened to you.”

“I’m sorry, honey. What happened? Please tell me you didn’t get back together with him.”

“I didn’t get back together with him, but the fact you think I would tells me a lot.”

“I didn’t mean–”

“No.” Maggie held up a hand. “You’re right. Deep in the back of my mind, I think I hoped everything would work out okay. Truth is, I’d be surprised if he ever wanted to see me again.”

“Why? Are you okay?”

Maggie took a deep breath. “Actually, I feel amazing, liberated somehow.” That was one way of putting how Ethan made her feel.

“Wow, we should celebrate.”

She wouldn’t object there. “What did you have in mind? Anything on the books for today?”

“Riding.”

She sat up and faced her friend, who wore a grin a mile wide. “Riding, as in horses?”

“Yep. We’ll go riding on Ethan’s land.”

Ethan. His name alone made her stomach flip. The thought of seeing him excited and scared her at the same time. After all, she’d acted the complete wanton last night. “Um, wedding stuff?”

“We’re doing fine with wedding plans.” Elsie waved a hand in a nonchalant manner. “My dress fits, your dress fits, and we’ve got rings. Everything will be here. Staff will set up seating and prepare food. We’ve booked a band. Nothing major is needed and if anything happens, it’s only Tuesday. Wedding isn’t until Saturday.”

“What about falling off the horse.”

“We’re going for a simple ride, not off to the races. Besides, I’ve ridden for years.”

“I didn’t mean you,” she said from between clenched teeth. “Need I remind you?” She pulled back several ringlets, pointing at a fading bruise on her hairline.

“Oh, yeah. Don’t worry, Ethan offered to ride with you. He’s excellent with horses.”

After last night, she could imagine he’d be excellent with nearly anything.

“Besides,” Elsie continued. “That divorce I mentioned is finally over with.”

“You never told me about any divorce.” If she had, it would have saved Maggie a world of grief. “You mentioned Ethan’s marriage was a technicality. Big difference.”

“Oh yes.” Elsie fumbled with a bow on her lacy blouse. “I can see how such wording could come across. Now you know.”

Yes, now she knew. Only she didn’t know how she would handle it. Sighing at Elsie’s crestfallen expression, she swung her legs off the sofa. “Okay, what do I wear? Jeans? I don’t think I brought anything else for riding.”

Elsie’s eyes sparkled. A dimple flashed to the left of her mouth. “That’s okay, I have the perfect breeches. You’re a bit taller than me, but with boots, it won’t make a difference.”

* * * *

Elsie and Bryan’s footsteps crunched along behind Maggie as they walked the trail to the Moore Estate. Despite her nerves at seeing Ethan again, she couldn’t help but admire the forest along the trail. The trees there were gnarly and old. Filled with leaves, they shaded them from the sun’s rays, giving the day a crisp feel. Up ahead, the fence where Ethan’s mare found herself trapped still needed to be repaired.

Maggie smoothed a hand over her tan leggings. They fit a bit tighter than she preferred, and although many people in Arizona wore riding jeans, Elsie had insisted these so-called breeches would be more comfortable.

“Stop fidgeting with your breeches.” Elsie reached across and tugged her hand away from the front of her riding pants. “You look great.”

“Did you see Ethan’s home the first time you took this path?” Bryan came up behind them and cupped a hand around Elsie’s hip.

“Do you mean the cottage?” Maggie asked him.

“No. The estate’s house portion is much larger but Ethan prefers the cottage. Stables and woods are more accessible. There are quite a few riding trails through the forest.”

He paused as they mounted the crest of a hill, pointing off in the distance. “Over there is Moore Estate.”

“Oh.” How could she have missed it? The beige, stone house was huge, surrounded by lush, manicured lawns and an array of trimmed bushes. Calling it a mansion wouldn’t do it justice. Forest cupped both sides and a large pond covered in lilies lay in front of the entrance. “He has statues in the pond. It’s gorgeous.”

“That it is. You should see the gardens in the back. At one time, Ethan allowed tour groups. When Miriam was here, she stopped them. Since she’s gone, perhaps he’ll start them back up again.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Maybe three years ago. For those who live here, not long enough.”

Miriam must be crazy, giving this up. “Where’s the cottage?”

“Down there.” Bryan pointed to the right of where they stood. It stood near the hill’s base, tucked into an edge of forest.

“You’re late,” Ethan said. He walked up the hill toward them, handsome in loose gray breeches and a black polo shirt. Her stomach flexed as he rested his gaze on her then swept it away. “Bryan, Elsie.” He kissed Elsie briefly on the cheek. “Hello again, Maggie.” As he brushed her cheek with his lips, she could have sworn he sucked in a deep breath before he pulled back. “Are you ready?”

“I’d say yes, if you don’t give me one of your tired horses.” Bryan grinned. “I’m ready for a run today.”

Maggie raised a hand. “I’ll take a tired horse.”

“You’re with me.” Ethan slipped his hand around hers and led them down the incline past his cottage. Her heartbeat fluttered in her chest. She cleared her throat. It might have been wishful thinking on her part, but his words had held a possessive note.

Up ahead, three horses stood with a short, older man who wore a tweed cap and polished riding boots. Based on how calm the horses stood, she guessed the man knew a thing or two about animals. As they approached, he looked up and smiled, his blue eyes twinkling in a round, pink face. “And who have we here?” he asked.

Ethan released her hand and rested his palm on the small of her back. The action was subtle but intimate. “This is Maggie. Maggie, meet my groom, Ian.”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” She smiled and walked around him to study the horses. The space she put between her and Ethan allowed her to release a shaky breath. She couldn’t tell whether her reaction was due to him or the horses. And speaking of the latter, none of the three appeared tired to her. One was a reddish brown, another, creamy white and the third, a dark gray. The brown and white horses wore saddles. The gray, which stood several inches taller, only bore a rope-like bridle.