Читать книгу Irish Dreams - Toni Kelly - Страница 5

2

Maggie woke with a dull pulsing at the front of her head. Ugh, no more violin practice for Rick. If he wanted to learn such a complexly noisy instrument, he could rehearse somewhere else and at someone else’s expense. Reaching up, she felt along her face and winced. A bandage covered the whole right side of her forehead. Why? What had happened? Her skull vibrated as if someone had taken a rubber hammer to it.

A wooden, rectangular coffee table stood several inches from where she lay and beyond that, a stone fireplace crackled. Landscape paintings complimented stucco walls and the exposed beams of the ceiling gave the room a rustic yet cozy feel. Where was she?

“Mmm, don’t touch. Balm must work its magic. Fortunately your wound is along your hairline. After the swelling goes down, it shouldn’t be too noticeable.”

She jumped at the sound of the accented baritone. The voice didn’t belong to Rick, and what did he mean by magic? That her surroundings were not familiar was now clear but the chilly air hitting her chest brought on a new realization. “Where are my clothes?” She pulled a quilted cover up to her chin in hopes of covering her nearly nude form.

“In the dryer,” he replied, his words followed by the crisp crunch of him biting into an apple. “You hungry?”

She glanced over to see who he was and found herself momentarily speechless. With eyes the color of evergreens he watched her from beneath his thick black brows. His full lips twisted, tightening an angular jaw shaded by a couple days’ stubble. “Lose your tour bus?” One black brow lifted.

What was he going on about? “Who are you and why did you remove my clothes?”

Taking a bite of apple, he moved in close and sat on the sofa’s arm. “I removed your clothes because they were soaked. I didn’t want you to catch cold. If you’re worried I’ve seen you,” he grinned, “you needn’t worry. I’ve enough experience removing female garments without looking. As for the rest of it, my name is Ethan Moore and this here is my cottage.”

Heat flooded her neck and face. “I see.” She didn’t, but the man was a flirt and his brogue beyond charming. This must have been what Elsie meant when referring to gorgeous Irishmen all around the island. “Mr. Moore–”

“Please, call me Ethan.”

She nodded and took a deep breath, hoping his mind was as sane as he appeared. “Look, Ethan. I truly appreciate your hospitality, but I must be going. I’m honestly not even sure how I got here.”

“I brought you here. I apologize if I’ve frightened you. I thought maybe you could tell me what happened,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“With Misty Eyes, my mare.”

Horse…how could she have forgotten? “She was trapped. Is she okay?”

“Didn’t walk away with a good-sized bump on her head, that’s for sure. Do you remember how you ended up on my property?”

“I climbed the fence to free her.”

“Foolish thing to do. You could’ve been killed.”

Jerk. Least he could do was thank her for saving his horse. “I couldn’t leave her there. She would have hurt herself.”

“Well if she had, it would be her own fault. Stubborn female.” His brow wrinkled as he took a last bite of apple.

Did stubborn female reference her or the horse? Afraid she wouldn’t like the answer, she didn’t ask. “Mr. Moore–I mean Ethan, do you think I can have my clothes now?”

His lips parted slightly, as if he’d suddenly realized their conversation had continued while she stood wrapped in a blanket. Tossing his apple into a trash bin, he ducked behind a wall, returning a moment later with her jeans, white shirt and lace bra. “What’s your name?”

Biting her lip, she shifted in place. He’d gone out of his way to help. Such an act required a certain amount of decency, didn’t it? “Maggie. My name is Maggie.”

“Well, Maggie, you can change there.” He pointed beyond her to an open doorway.

“Thank you.” She accepted the clothes and dashed through the doorway, into a bathroom which instantly reminded her of Christmas. Burgundy, green and gold pin-striped wallpaper covered the walls. Matching plush, burgundy rugs cushioned her feet from the tiled floor and gold trimmed towels lay in a basket next to a gold soap dispenser. To top it all off, the bathroom smelled like cinnamon and cloves. Either Ethan had spectacular taste or he’d hired someone to decorate his cottage. She twisted her lips. Or, he wasn’t the only one who lived there.

A quick glance in the mirror showed off her newly earned bandage but she didn’t dare inspect further. The faster she changed, the faster she’d leave this charming cottage and most especially, its somewhat charming owner. Ethan Moore, an eyeful with black hair and broad shoulders. Despite her height–taller than average for a woman at five-foot-seven–he dwarfed her.

Leaving her shirt untucked, she brushed her curls away from her face with her fingers then exited the bathroom.

“Here, this will make you feel better.” He approached, holding out a mug.

“What is it?”

“Tea. It’ll warm you up.”

“Thank you.” She accepted the mug and leaned against the wall, sipping while he watched her. She suddenly wished she’d spent more time on her appearance. His gaze unnerved her, triggering a flutter in the pit of her stomach. Yet she couldn’t pull away.

“Forgive me,” he murmured so softly she thought she might have imagined it.

“For what?”

“This.” He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her close, touching his lips to hers. Soft, gently at first. Then deeper, more playfully.

Kissing a stranger. A man who smelled like soap, rain and clean mountain air all bundled together. Whose hands set her skin afire and made her bend to his control. The realization registered a moment but Maggie didn’t want to back away, couldn’t. She moaned as he slipped his fingers up between her tresses, caressing the base of her scalp. Tingles moved through her lower body. She used her free hand to grip his shoulder and steady herself.

In too short a time and with some obvious reluctance, he pulled his mouth from hers and released his hold on the back of her neck. “I shouldn’t have done that.” Ethan hung his head and braced one hand on the wall above her head. “I’m not sorry.” He met her gaze. “Yet I shouldn’t have laid my mouth on yours.”

How could she respond when he’d left her in a daze? Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed her senseless, but his words were still a light punch to the chest. Probably better than dealing with rejection later. She licked her lips, enjoying his taste more than she should, and trying for some composure herself. “What now?”

He nodded, took a deep breath and stepped back. “You tell me. Where’d you come from? A lost tour bus? A traveling college student?”

College? “I’m thirty.”

“You look younger. Doesn’t answer my question though.”

Uh sure, because she should definitely tell a stranger where she stayed. Although this stranger did save her. “The Kelley’s.” Oh God, Elsie would be worried sick. “What time is it?”

“Four. You telling me you’re staying with Bryan Kelley over at Rose Hill House?”

“Four? I slept too long. I’m late. They’ll be back from Dublin Airport any moment now, if not already.” She pushed a few curls out of her face and slipped by him. The intensity of his gaze warmed her back. Her hands grew slick and she wiped one along the front of her jeans. She didn’t dare look up. Instead, she busied herself by setting her mug in the kitchen sink.

“Hello?” someone called from outside.

Maggie turned toward the front door as a gorgeous brunette knocked and entered. “Ethan?” the brunette said. She glanced up, locking gazes with Maggie. Her eyes moved over Maggie’s face, pausing on her lips. For a moment her smile faltered. “And you are?”

Ah, this was why he shouldn’t have kissed her. And maybe why the inside of his cottage looked good enough to photograph. Grabbing her phone from the counter, Maggie started toward the door. “I’m leaving. Don’t mind me.” Shoot. She lifted a hand to her temple then winced as she brushed her bandage. How was she going to find her way back from here? “Um.”

The brunette turned, one manicured brow lifted. “Yes? Forget something?”

“Do you know the way to Rose Hill House?”

The brunette’s smile widened, her perfect white teeth dazzling. “Sure. You walk out and turn left. Once you go over a hill, you’ll see border fence.”

“Thank you.”

“Wait. Maggie.” Ethan hurried after her. “I’ll take you there.”

Please no. She just wanted out of there. Away from him and Ms. Supermodel Girlfriend. “No thanks, I’m fine.” She didn’t break stride and exited through the open door.

“Ethan,” the brunette objected. “This is important.”

“I’ll be back, Kara.”

“No.” Injured head or not, Maggie would not be held responsible for some broken relationship. “Please don’t inconvenience yourself. I can find my way if I get lost,” she waved her cellphone, “I’ve got a phone.”

* * * *

“I believe I found the woman with whom I’ll be walking down the aisle.” Ethan grinned as Maggie marched–arms swinging–toward the neighboring estate, her bright red ringlets glistening in the afternoon sunlight.

“Given certain circumstances, do you think that’s a good idea?” Kara asked.

“Oh, Kara. Ever the lawyer. I didn’t mean it in a literal sense. She said she came over by way of the Kelley estate. Not to mention, the woman’s got an American accent. I bet you she’s Elsie’s best friend and maid-of-honor.”

“Ah, I see.”

“You have the papers?”

“Yes.” Kara rustled through her leather briefcase, pausing with a sigh. “Damn it. I thought I did. Appears I forgot them.”

“What? You came here with the intention of having me sign them.”

“I know. I must have left them on my desk. I’ve a lot on my mind.” She pursed her lips. “I’ve an idea. We’ll meet up for dinner in town in a couple nights. You sign the papers and we’ll have champagne in celebration of this being complete.”

Ethan frowned. “Bryan’s wedding is in a week. I’m sure he’ll need my help. You picked a really bad time.”

“I know, and I’ll make it up. I promise. Come on, you’re finally gaining your freedom back.”

Sometimes he swore Kara did these things on purpose, but he wasn’t in any mood for an argument. She had a point. A divorce from Miriam deserved a celebration. “Fine. You set up reservations and tell me a meeting place.”

“Great.” She lifted her briefcase. “By the way, have you a date for the Kelley pre-wedding party tomorrow night? I’ve heard it’s a formal event.”

Bryan hadn’t mentioned bringing a date. “No, although considering I’m not yet officially divorced, bringing another woman probably wouldn’t be the best representation.” Neither was the kiss with Maggie, but he’d leave that out of the equation right now.

“Yeah, right. Well, have a good evening.”

Ethan guided Kara to the door and let her out, releasing his breath in a sigh. She wanted him. Fair assessment or not, Kara reminded him of Miriam. Both were calculating, manipulative. Kara had more class.

He threw a couple logs into the fireplace, then lit them. Wood and newspaper scraps crackled, the embers burning sunset orange. Like Maggie’s fiery hair. He’d only spoken with her for a blink in time and yet he’d bet his life her personality would prove itself as fiery. A corker, as grandfather was fond of saying.

Ethan sat on the rug before the fire and smiled. Grandfather would get all worked up with the reliable Moore temper, but one of grandmother’s smiles was enough to have him sitting like a docile puppy. Even after grandmother passed, the old man refused other women’s invitations, and there’d been plenty. “I’ve loved the only woman who will fill me in this lifetime,” he’d say.

Ethan wanted the love his grandparents shared, or at least, he’d wanted it at one time. Now, life seemed to have chewed him up and spit him back out. Marriage to Miriam had been a fool’s desire, wishful thinking. He wasn’t sure she’d ever loved him.

Tossing one last log on the fire, he stood up and dusted his hands off on the front of his jeans. Marriage didn’t agree with him. Bachelorhood sounded far more appealing.

He opened a kitchen cabinet, pulled out a bottle of Jameson. Hell, two years with Miriam and he could accept life as a hermit. Amber liquid spilled over several ice cubes. Lifting his glass, he relished knowing she didn’t approve of drinking at home alone. “To life without a woman and impending freedom.”

He downed the entire glass, and enjoyed the burn coating his throat. Even as he set the empty tumbler down, his grandmother’s voice echoed, scolding him. She would have been right too. It was one thing to live as a bachelor, another, as an idiot. “Christ. I shouldn’t have let her go alone.” He grabbed his coat and Blackberry then headed out after Maggie.