The Fire and the Earth: Glenncailty Castle, Book 2 (6 page)

He shrugged. He’d done no more than any other man would have, and less than he should.

“Is that where you live?” he asked as they came around the trunk of an old tree. There was a cottage in a little clearing of sorts. Someone was trying to keep the forest away from the whitewashed stone walls and thatched roof. There was a belt of mowed grass all the way around, and the trees had been trimmed back. There was even a stone path leading away from the iron-bound wood front door, though the path soon disappeared as the underbrush thickened. They moved out of the trees into the clearing, the stone path firm under his feet after the soft vegetation.

“Yes, this is my little house. There’s about ten cottages, and we’re renovating them. Eventually they’ll be guest accommodations.” Sorcha pursed her lips and stopped to contemplate the cottage. “Well, that was the plan. I guess it doesn’t matter.”

Séan hated the sadness in her voice, and the fact that he’d indirectly put it there.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s me and Seamus who should be sorry. You tried to warn us years ago.”

“I wish I’d been wrong.”

“So do I, though Caera says she wouldn’t have let herself love Tim if it wasn’t for what she’d seen.”

Sorcha opened the door and Séan frowned at what she said, not sure what she meant. He was prepared to ask her as he followed her in and closed the door behind him, but then the reality of where they were and what they were doing hit him.

The cottage was old, both in stones and style. The large central room was a kitchen, lounge and dining room, with a turf-burning oven and a little grated fireplace. It was warm enough this time of year, so the fireplace was bare. He was a tall man, and was aware that there wasn’t much clearance. He felt large and powerful in the little, feminine space. It made him want to grab her and kiss her, as he had all those years ago.

“Would you like a cup?” She motioned to the kettle that waited on the counter.

“I would like something.” He closed the space between them in a few steps. “But it’s not tea.”

Sorcha met him halfway, her fingers twining in his hair. She came up on her toes, her lips only millimeters from his. When she exhaled, he felt her breath on his face. She smelled good, not any scent he could name—it was expensive and feminine, making her seem exotic, though she looked as pretty as the rose of Tralee with her red hair and blue, blue eyes.

He lowered his face to hers, ready to kiss her. He was stopped by her fingers on his lips. He pulled back and raised a brow in question.

“This time, let me,” was all she said.

Sorcha’s fingers dropped from his lips. Keeping one hand threaded through his hair, she placed the other on his shoulder, steadying herself. Séan cupped her hips, resisting the desire to move his hands to her ass.

Tipping her head to one side, she brought her face to his. She held for a moment before dipping in for a quick, dry brush of lips. She paused, their breath mingling.

This time the kiss was longer, and hard enough that he felt the swell of her lips. When she pulled back, he grunted in frustration.

“Not enough?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.

“Not nearly enough.”

“What do you want?”

“This.” Taking firmer hold of her hips, Séan pulled her hard against him then bent his head to hers and kissed her. His was no gentle kiss but a fierce possession. He nipped her, slipping his tongue between her lips to taste her.

They held each other, mouths fused, the pleasure mounting with each moment.

When he broke the kiss, they were both breathing hard.

“I’ve been waiting for that,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“For you to kiss me again. No one has ever kissed me the way you do.”

“I want to be gentle.”

“I’m glad you’re not.” Sorcha pulled his hands off her hips and took a few steps back. She stepped out of her shoes, kicking them to the side. Next she carefully took her nametag off her lapel and placed it on the counter. Séan stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep himself from walking across the room and grabbing her. This felt almost surreal. He’d longed for this woman for years, and after the disaster of their first meeting he’d never thought he’d be this close to her again.

The button of her blazer slipped free under her slender fingers. The jacket fell open revealing the green dress she wore. When the blazer was gone, draped carelessly over the heat guard of the fireplace, Séan got his first good look at her. The dress showed off her legs below the knee and her slender arms. A belt around the middle highlighted the swell of her hips and breasts.

He’d thought she was beautiful since the first moment he’d seen her. He’d wanted her since they danced, and now he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was the most perfect woman in the world.

She reached up and did something to her hair. The red waves fell around her shoulders, haloed by the golden light of dusk.

Dusk.

Séan jerked as if he’d been struck. His gaze darted from Sorcha to the window. The light was failing, and if he had to guess he’d say it was half six. Sorcha’s hands were on the belt around her waist, fingers working the buckle.

Hating himself, Séan closed his eyes for a painful moment before saying, “I have to go.”

Sorcha’s hands fell to her sides. “What?”

“It’s almost six.”

Sorcha crossed her arms and raised a brow.

“I have to go milking.”

Sorcha blinked. “Milking.”

“I have to milk my cows.” Séan rubbed his chin, feeling like a great country fool. Here he was with the woman of his dreams stripping off her clothes and he had to leave to milk his cows. “They have to be milked twice a day, and my girls know when they should be milked and they’ll be lined up at the parlor.” He winced at his garbled explanation. “There’s no one else to do it.”

That was it. Whatever chance he’d had with Sorcha had been destroyed by talk of cows.

“I’ll just…” He dropped his arms helplessly to his sides. “I’ll just go, then.”

He turned and had his hand on the door when she said, “Wait.”

Sorcha’s dress was loose around her shoulders, and she had her folded arms pressed to her chest.

“When you’re done milking—” Sorcha dropped her arms and her dress fell to her waist. She wore a black lace bra, with hints of creamy skin showing through. “Why don’t you come back?”

She pushed the dress over her hips, letting it fall to the floor. She wore matching black panties. Her body was all lush, touchable curves and velvety skin. Séan’s mouth went dry. He took a step, forgetting everything but his need to touch her. Sorcha held up a hand.

“No. You have to go.”

“I’m coming back.” His voice was low and rough, and Séan was afraid he’d scare her away, but she only smiled.

“I know.”

Ignoring her hand, he grabbed her, pulling her nearly naked body against his. God, she felt good in his arms. He kissed her quick and hard.

“Wait for me.”

Séan let her go and backed towards to door, worried that if he didn’t go now he never would.

As he opened the door, he thought he heard Sorcha whisper, “I will.”

Sorcha went to bed. She’d planned to stay up and wait for Séan, lounging sexily in the main room, but she’d started work early that morning and soon even anticipation wasn’t enough to keep her up. It was either go to sleep or sit up and start making lists of what they’d have to do to close down the hotel. She wasn’t ready for that yet.

She didn’t know if Séan really was coming back. She didn’t doubt that he wanted to, but she also knew enough about farming to know that anything could and would go wrong. She’d grown up in a small village much like Cailtytown and had gone to school with kids whose families grew grain or raised cattle.

She’d brushed her teeth, and then applied some pink lip stain—just in case—before crawling into bed.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been asleep before a touch on her hand woke her. She frowned, mind slow to pull away from the sexy dream she was having. Something soft and warm was moving up her arm. She stretched in her sleep and a hand took hers, lacing their fingers together. That was enough to wake Sorcha, though she didn’t open her eyes.

“Awake?” a gruff voice asked.

“Either that or I’m having a wonderful dream.”

“What’s happening in your dream?”

“A sexy man is in my bedroom, and he’s about to do very sexy things to me.”

“Then you are awake.”

Sorcha opened her eyes. Séan was kneeling beside her bed. His hair was wet and his beard was trimmed, making him look much less rumpled than he had only hours ago. His gaze moved over her face, and his expression was serious.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

Sorcha was used to compliments and flirting, but this didn’t feel like flirting—it felt like the truth.

“Don’t say that.” She cupped his cheek in her hand.

“Why?”

“Because I’m not beautiful.”
Not on the inside.

Now a small smile quirked Séan’s mouth. “You are, but maybe you’re not so smart if you think you’re not.”

“Ohh, wretched man,” she whispered as she drew him towards her.

They kissed, long and deep. Cold air washed over her as Séan pushed the covers off her.

“Mary and the saints bless me,” he whispered as he looked at her. Lip color wasn’t the only thing she’d put on. She wore a green satin and black teddy. The lacy cups barely covered her breasts. A matching thong showed off more skin than her bathing suit.

Séan sat back on his heels. Grabbing her around the waist, he swung her up to sit on the side of the bed, her legs spread on either side of him. His gaze lingered on her breasts and the strip of black lace that was the only thing protecting her sex from him.

A shiver of arousal went through Sorcha and she was surprised by how strong the feeling was. She liked sex, liked how it made her feel, but this was more intense than normal.

Séan’s hands on her ribs inched up until his thumbs nudged the underside of her breasts. Now she wished she hadn’t put on the teddy, because she wanted to feel his hands on her bare skin.

“I’ve imagined touching you,” he whispered. Séan leaned in and kissed her breastbone, the whiskers on his chin scraping the soft swell of her breasts.

“I always wondered what might have happened that night.” She threaded her fingers though his hair and resisted the urge to guide his head to her nipple.

Séan lifted his head from her chest. “I did more than wonder.”

He hooked his fingers in the lace bra cup and dragged it down, exposing her right breast. Cupping it, he took the nipple into his mouth, while his other hand kneaded her left breast.

Sorcha arched her breasts into his face and hand. She wrapped her legs around his torso, pulling him tighter against her.

He rubbed his hands over her belly, breasts and back, pressing the satin and lace against her skin. Catching the straps, he pulled the teddy down so it bunched around her waist, completely baring her breasts and dropping to his knees beside the bed. She watched him looking at her. His hunger was a palpable thing.

He reached for her, but she caught his hands, moving them away and trying to stand. He was so close to the side of the bed that she was forced to straddle him, her pelvis close to his face.

Before he could grab her thong, Sorcha reached down and tugged at the neck of his jumper.

“Isn’t it time I see a little of you?”

With jerking movements, he leaned back and pulled off the sweater, pulling at the buttons of the shirt he wore underneath until it too was off, tossed aside without a second thought.

His shoulders were thick with muscle. She wanted to touch him, taste him.

“Let me see you,” she said, reaching down to tug on him, urging him to stand so she could press herself against him.

He refused to move, looking up at her from his position on his knees before her.

“I can’t wait anymore. I’ve wanted you for too long.”

Before she could scramble away, Séan grabbed her bare ass, fingers strong and rough. She gasped and steadied herself by holding his wrists, which only served to arch her body, pressing her sex closer to his face.

Séan took full advantage of her position.

His teeth nipped at the fabric of her teddy where it still covered her belly. She felt the hard edge of his teeth. He kissed his way along the hem, finding bare strips of flesh to tease. Each touch of his broad, wet tongue was electric. The muscles of her legs trembled as his teeth caught the side string of her thong. He tugged it away and then let it snap back, the sound loud in the hush of her bedroom.

“Séan, you don’t have to do this, let me...” Her voice trailed off as his tongue dipped under the fabric of her thong.

He whispered against her belly, words as hot as his breath. “I want to do this.”

Then his head dipped lower, mouth angling up to press against her sex. Sorcha couldn’t stand anymore and collapsed down onto the bed. She gasped as his lips touched her core, the fabric of her panties still separating them. He kissed and licked her, the sensation muted but enough to drive her up to the edge. His mouth moved lower, his beard abrading the insides of her thighs.