Secrets of the Lighthouse (30 page)

‘So, you
did
miss me,’ he laughs, cupping her face in his hands and gazing at her lovingly.

‘Yes, I did,’ she replies.

‘I’m glad. I missed you, too. These last few days have been so long, I thought today would never come. Now, get in the car because I don’t want to waste another
minute.’

They drive to Reedmace House, holding hands all the way across the gearbox. He can barely take his eyes off her and she keeps telling him to watch the road. The air between them is charged, as
if it is made of threads of electricity, pulled very tight. They laugh and talk at the same time then laugh again. Flushed with desire and impatient, they are scarcely able to control themselves.
When they reach the house, Conor leaps out and unlocks the door. He takes her hand and leads her upstairs at a run. She hurries after him, laughing at his enthusiasm. But soon she isn’t
laughing. His mouth is on hers and he’s peeling away her clothes like the petals of a flower.

I cannot watch any more. It is beneath my dignity to witness their intimacy. I retreat to the garden where I pace up and down beneath the apple trees, waving my arms at the birds to shoo them
away. I wish I could wave my arms and scare Ellen away.

The feeling of Conor’s bristly face against her neck was quite different from the feeling his beard had given her. She shivered and let out a sigh of pleasure as a warm
wave rippled over her skin, from her head to her belly. Closing her eyes and lifting her chin she nuzzled her cheek against his hair and let him devour her neck like a friendly lion, his gentle
mauling leaving her legs weak and trembling. ‘Your skin tastes so good,’ he breathed, pulling away. ‘I want to taste every inch of you.’ He grinned down at her, anticipating
the feast to come, and peeled away her cardigan, dropping it to the floor. Then he slowly unbuttoned her dress and slipped it over her shoulders so that it hung loosely from her hips, revealing her
naked stomach and pretty lace bra. He smiled appreciatively, tracing his eyes and his thumbs over the generous swell of her bosom, lingering in the valley just above the lace where her skin was
warm and damp. Her chest expanded and her breathing grew hoarse. Dazed from the sensual pleasure of his touch and more agitated than she had ever been, she could only follow her instincts because
experience hadn’t prepared her for this.

He pressed his lips to the sensitive place just below her ear, running his fingers over her collarbone and shoulders and around to her back, where he unclipped her brassiere, exposing her
breasts to his touch. She let out a gasp and closed her eyes. She could hear his breathing, shallow and heavy beneath her ear, and her own thumping heart, sending the blood pulsating into her
temples. Then he hooked his thumbs over the waistline of her dress and panties and with one deft movement removed the last of her clothes. She stood naked and unashamed, her desire having burned
away all that remained of her reserve.

‘Now you are all mine,’ he laughed, lifting her into his arms and carrying her over to the bed.

She laughed, too. ‘With pleasure, Rhett Butler,’ she replied, hoping she wasn’t heavy.

‘The pleasure is all mine, Scarlett.’ He placed her on the bed and knelt over her, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal the toned body of an athlete. Conor might have spent the last five
years letting his hair and beard grow long and unkempt, but he hadn’t neglected his body. He tossed his shirt onto the carpet and unbelted his jeans.

‘You’re a fine-looking man, Conor Macausland,’ she said, running her eyes over his muscular stomach.

‘Not bad for a forty-two-year-old,’ he replied.

‘Not bad at all. Come here and let me get a closer look.’

He made to fall on top of her, but stopped in a press-up just before crushing her. ‘No, let me get a closer look at
you
,’ he said, and before she could reply he was kissing
her again, deeply and passionately, in the way that had at first alarmed her.

He began to devour her, inch by inch, agonizingly slowly, until she was crying out with impatience. ‘Why rush? We’ve got all afternoon!’ he murmured as he ran his lips across
her belly, just beneath her tummy button.

‘Because I can’t stand the suspense,’ she gasped, her belly giving a sudden shudder.

‘But I’ve only just started,’ he replied. His breath was hot against her skin as he parted her legs and ran his tongue up the inside of her thigh. As he reached the top she
threw her arms above her head and lifted her chin, abandoning herself with the greatest delight to the most sensual of rides.

A long while later, they lay entwined, worn out and dazed but deeply satisfied, as if their lovemaking had righted every wrong in their world. Nothing else existed but the two
of them, alone in the house in the middle of the wild hills of Connemara; they might as well have been on a cloud, far above the cares and concerns of daily life, for everything but their desire
for each other seemed so unimportant now. They softly ran their fingers over skin still tingling with the reverberations of their pleasure, greedily taken, and murmured the sweet nothings of lovers
drunk on love.

Ellen had never before experienced the practised hand of a man, for William was just a boy in comparison to Conor. Everything about this Irishman was intensely masculine, from his weathered skin
to his powerful physique, and there was something dark and unfathomable in his eyes which drew her to him like the curious hand of a child to fire, because as much as she knew he could love her,
she knew he would never belong to her, nor would she ever tame him. He was too old to change and had been too long in the wild.

She knew she should tell him about William, but she quickly convinced herself that owning up to her engagement would give it an importance it no longer had. From the moment she met Conor, she
had known in her heart that, even if nothing ever came of it, she could never go back to William. Not after he had been so diminished by the comparison. She realized now that there was an
unconventional side to her that William would never understand, and for which, one day, he would most likely end up resenting her. It was in her attraction to Conor that she recognized that part of
herself, because it was reflected in him. Conor had not only peeled away her clothes but he had peeled away her pretences. She knew now who she was and what she wanted.

Ellen resolved to deal with William kindly but swiftly. The ramifications would be tremendous, but she’d have Conor and the Byrnes and she’d be strong enough to cope. She lifted
herself onto her elbow and ran a finger down Conor’s face. He turned and frowned up at her. ‘What are you thinking about, Socrates?’

She sank into his deep blue gaze and smiled softly. ‘You.’

‘What about me?’

‘How I found you up there on the hills.’

‘Correction,
I
found
you
, and if I hadn’t you’d still be up there.’

She laughed. ‘But
I
stumbled upon
you
.’

‘And nearly threw me from my horse.’

‘You’re far too accomplished to allow that.’

He caressed her cheek and sighed. ‘I knew you were special, even though you looked a sight.’

‘No, you didn’t.’

‘If I hadn’t, I’d have pointed the way and left you to your own devices.’

‘I don’t believe that for a second. Beneath your rugged exterior, you’re an old-fashioned gentleman.’

His gaze grew tender. ‘But your eyes were welling with tears and your face was all red and you looked so lost and frightened. I sensed you’d stumbled into my path for a
reason.’

‘And what reason might that be, do you think?’

‘As a ray of light into my dark world.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s dramatic.’

‘But true.’

‘You’re very sweet, Conor, but I’m no angel.’

‘Angels come in many guises.’ He grinned wickedly and the lascivious glint had returned to his eyes. ‘But I’m doing my best to bring you down to my level.’

It was dark when he drove her back to Peg’s. They had feasted on the cottage pie Meg had left in the fridge and Conor had opened a bottle of wine. Later, Conor had gone
over to the stable block to fetch Magnum, whom Robert had taken out for a long walk over the hills, and the dog had lain on the floor at the end of the bed while his master and his new girlfriend
fooled around beneath the sheets. Conor had asked her to stay the night and Ellen had wanted to, very much, but she knew Peg would disapprove and she didn’t want her uncles appearing in the
morning for an impromptu breakfast to find that she wasn’t there.

So, they drove down the lanes, holding hands over the gear-stick. ‘I’ll be lonely in my bed tonight,’ he said, dimming the lights as a car appeared around the corner ahead of
them. He turned to her, his eyes twinkling momentarily in the glare, and Ellen thought how incredibly handsome he was and how lucky she was to have found him.

‘I’d like to stop you feeling lonely,’ she replied softly. ‘And I’d like to wake up with you in the morning.’

‘The invitation stands. I could turn the car around now and we could go back.’

‘No, I can’t do that to Peg. It’s just not right.’

He chuckled. ‘You’re not a girl any more, Ellen.’

‘I
am
in my aunt’s house.’

‘All right. I won’t try to persuade you. But I’ll come and get you tomorrow and we can spend the day together.’

‘I’d like that.’

‘Did you finish
The Age of Innocence
?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Then I’ll wait until you have before we watch the movie together.’

‘It’s a beautiful book. It sweeps me into another world. A fascinating world.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘You know, the novel belonged to my mother. It’s inscribed by
Dylan. It reads:
To my own Ellen Olenska, May you always be wild and curious, your spirit free. May your heart for ever belong to me. Dylan. July 1977.
’

Conor raised an eyebrow. ‘So he called her Ellen Olenska. That’s interesting.’

‘I know we . . .’ She was about to tell him of her walk to the little chapel but stopped herself in time, remembering that Conor’s wife was buried there. ‘We met in the
pub and had lunch together. He told me that he gave her the book. I never expected to find it in Peg’s library. I was astonished when he told me that she named me after his nickname for
her.’

Conor stared at her pensively before turning his eyes back to the road. ‘What does that tell you?’

‘That she still loved him when I was born.’

He nodded. ‘Yes, but don’t you think . . .’

Ellen cut him off with her own train of thought. ‘I wonder whether she regretted running off with my father? Whether she still held a candle for Dylan?’

‘If she didn’t, you’d be called Elizabeth or Alexandra.’

‘Then maybe she ran off against her will, like it was her only choice. God, perhaps she has always loved him and that’s why she kept her childhood in Ireland quiet, because she
couldn’t bear to go back here, in conversation or anything else. It was too painful.’

Conor smiled at her indulgently. ‘You’re very romantic, aren’t you, Ellen?’

‘Yes. But it
is
romantic, when you look at it like that. Believe me, my mother is the least romantic person I have ever met, or so I thought. I’m beginning to think I
don’t know her at all. She left when she was young. Maybe the life she chose has hardened her. Certainly, the woman Dylan described didn’t sound at all like the woman I know.’

‘You’re going to have to ask her all those questions.’

‘I couldn’t. I just couldn’t,’ she replied, shaking her head and turning away to look out of the window.

‘Then you’ll never know.’

‘Perhaps some things are best left alone,’ she said quietly. A sudden chill crawled over her skin. Conor was right, it was all much more complicated than she imagined.

Sensing her apprehension, Conor squeezed her hand. ‘You’re right, Ellen, it’s better not to know.’

As they approached the house they saw another car parked in the driveway. Ellen didn’t recognize it as belonging to her uncles. ‘It could be Ronan,’ she said.

Conor’s jaw hardened. ‘Then I won’t linger,’ he answered, pulling up beside it.

She bit her bottom lip. ‘What shall I tell them?’

‘That you spent the best part of the day in bed with me.’ He grinned at her mischievously.

‘You’re so bad, Conor. If I tell them that they’ll kill me.’

‘You won’t have to. They’ll read it all over your face.’

‘What’s wrong with my face?’ She ran her fingers over her skin. ‘Have you given me a rash?’

‘I’m not a horse!’

She laughed. ‘No, but you’re very bristly.’

‘I’m talking of your glow. I’m afraid your face is a blatant display of your lustful behaviour.’

She slapped his hand playfully. ‘Oh, you’re teasing!’

‘Only a little. Your reaction is priceless.’

‘No rash, then?’

‘None that I can see. But it
is
dark. So, what’s your verdict? Beard or no beard?’ he asked, obviously wanting to delay her departure for as long as possible.

‘I like you with and without, actually. But if I had to choose, I’d say no beard. I see more of you without it. You’re a handsome man. Why hide it?’

His teeth shone white as he smiled. ‘So, I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.’ He wound his hand around her neck and leaned forward to kiss her. His lips were soft and full,
parted to kiss her fully. She closed her eyes to savour it, forgetting her anxiety about the lights from the house that beamed on them as if they were actors on a stage. When he pulled away he held
her gaze for a long moment. Then he smiled incredulously, as if he, too, was astonished and grateful that they had found one another. ‘Sleep well, Ellen.’

‘I will. You’ve exhausted me.’ She laughed shyly, unable to bear the intensity of his stare without blushing.

He lifted her chin and kissed her again. ‘It’s a bit late for bashfulness.’

‘I know, you’ve stripped me of all modesty.’

‘I’m so pleased. I’d hate to have missed a bit.’

‘No, I think you just about covered everything.’ They laughed together. He kissed her again and finally, with great force of will, Ellen stepped out of the car and watched him drive
away.