Sticks and Stone (13 page)

“Yes. But I won’t be staying long. I called my friend
Soibhan
. She’s watching my woods while I’m gone. She’ll
move into my cottage and take over the position so I can stay in America a
while longer.”

“You can live with me. There’s no better way to find out
how we really feel about each other.”

“I’d like that.” She favored him with another glowing
smile.

 
“But I’ve got to
know. Why? You were furious with me this morning when you left the limo. Why
did you go out of your way to make sure you could spend more time with me?”

“An
áit
a
bhfuil
do
chroí
is
ann
a
thabharfas
do
chosa
thú
.”

“Sounds lovely.
What does it mean?”

“It’s an old saying. ‘Your feet will bring you to where
your heart is.’ I knew this morning, when your refusal to acknowledge our
relationship hurt so badly, that my heart was here.” She shrugged. “So here was
where I needed to be as well.”

He couldn’t believe it. Everything was falling together
perfectly. Everything except the tabloid threat, that is. But after watching
how she handled herself today and listening to her responses to Sara’s
questions, he knew he had nothing to fear from her religion. The only possible
scandal was a much more prosaic one, and he had a simple solution for that.

“If you’re going to be living with me,” he warned her,
“people will talk. The easiest way to cut short the gossip is if we’re
engaged.”

She blinked. “Engaged? But the whole purpose for my
staying is to find out if it’s love.”

“So we’ll make it a long engagement.
Years,
if you like.”

“Somehow, I don’t think it will take that long.”

“However long it is, I’ll be here when you make your
decision.” He walked around the table and stopped in front of her, taking her
hands in his. “My feet have brought me to where my heart is, too. And I don’t
ever plan to leave.”

Looking deep into her eyes, Dermot knew he’d made the
right decision. The worst media frenzy would be inconsequential with her by his
side, and soon over, compared to the hell he would endure for the rest of his
life if he let her get away.

Slowly, reveling in the feel of her trembling body
beneath the soft velvet of her shawl, he glided his hands up her arms, to her
shoulders, then down her back. He moved forward, at the same time pulling her
to him, so that their bodies were pressed together from leg to chest.

Eileen’s hands slid under his suit coat, caressing his
chest,
then
slid down his ribs and around his waist to
cup and cradle his ass. His cock sprang to full and instant arousal, pressed
into the folds of her skirt, and he considered locking the door and making love
to her right there on the conference table. But that would mean he’d have to
break away from her in order to reach the door.

Instead, he bent his head and captured her lips in a
deep, soul-searing kiss. Everything he’d said, hadn’t said, or wanted to say
but had said incorrectly, was all expressed in that one perfect kiss.

Distantly, he heard a click.

“Mr. Stone, if you’re—” Sara began. “Oh. Excuse me.”

Dermot turned. “Sara. There’s one more thing you’ll need
to consider for your publicity campaign. Eileen has just consented to become my
fiancée.”

Sara’s eyes widened. “But this changes everything! We’ll
be able to book you on—”

“No,” Eileen interrupted. “He asked you to consider it,
in case the news would affect my believability as an independent authority. But
I won’t answer any questions about my personal life.”

Sara shook her head. “You’re wasting a golden publicity
opportunity. But fine. I’ll reshape a few things, and otherwise ignore your
engagement. Now I’ll let you two alone to finish your, mm, discussion.”

She slipped out of the room, closing the door softly
behind her. Dermot stroked Eileen’s cheek, admiring the fire in her eyes. She’d
have no trouble handling nosy questions from reporters.

“The tabloids will ask, you know,” Dermot warned softly.

“I think not.” Eileen slanted a smug smile at him.
“Neglecting to print gossip about our relationship could not possibly harm
them.”

Dermot stared at her in amazement,
then
began to laugh. She was everything he’d ever wanted in a lover, plus she had
the power to keep the tabloids away. The leprechaun truly had given him his
heart’s deepest desire.

Jennifer Dunne is the author of over a dozen novels and
novellas spanning the genres of fantasy, science fiction and romance. (She’s
either a unique individual who is difficult to categorize, or easily bored—you
decide.) Beyond that, there’s no point describing her hobbies or activities,
since they’ll have changed by the time you read this. (Score one for “easily
bored”.) She lives in upstate New York, where she happily plays the lead role
in her very own love story, thankfully with fewer explosions, occult happenings
and dire situations than in her fiction.
Although, there was
that one time…

Jennifer welcomes comments from readers. You can find
her website and email address on her
author bio page
at
www.ellorascave.com
.

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