Sisters of Colford Hall 01 - The Invasion of Falgannon Isle (15 page)

B.A. opened the door and offered Morag a smile. “Morn, lass.”

“Nice collar, Dudley.” Morag held up a jar of her green slime. “Figured your Viking prince will need this. Heard Innis got out the Stop-Breath to welcome him proper-like. I’m making deliveries to the eejits so the rest of us won’t have to put up with their moaning.”

Accepting the brew, B.A. kissed Morag’s pale cheek. “You’re an angel.”

“I’d let them come begging before doling it out, since they make fun of my goop, only tonight is the
ceilidh
. Whilst having eighty percent of the isle hungover gives Oona, you and me giggles, with the Yank lasses here it wouldn’t be a good first impression, eh?” Morag patted Dudley, then looked up. Those pale eyes, the shade of her cape, had always seen beyond the moment. “Sometimes we have to fight for what we want, lass. Remember that.”

And with that warning, she vanished into the falling rain.

B.A. took a tumbler from the cabinet. Pouring the thick green gel into the glass, she cut it with ice water from the refrigerator.

Upstairs, she nudged Desmond’s shoulder. “Drink this.”

“A love potion? Trying to turn me into your sex slave?” He yawned, then seriousness flooded his eyes. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

“Morag fetched you some of her goop. Drink it down and you won’t have a hangover. I’ll go undress.”

She paused to draw the curtains on the bedroom window. Rain, heavier now, hit the panes in a steady, soothing noise. Hoping it’d continue so they could get some rest, she went to the walk-in closet and changed into a nightgown—a flannel one.

Chicken,
Devil B.A. taunted.

“Hush!” she snapped aloud before she caught herself.

Desmond called, “You telling me or Dudley to hush?”

She flipped out the light. “Um… neither.” B.A. figured he already thought the islanders were nuts. If she told him about Angel B.A. and Devil B.A., he’d believe her around the bend, too.

Desmond lifted the duvet for her to slide in next to him and immediately pulled her close. Within minutes the tension left his body, his head lolling against hers. The rise and fall of his chest said he slept. Shifting, she leaned her head to his, rubbing her nose in the thick waves of his black hair. Devil B.A. might be pitching a fit about lickings and tickings, but something was so special about cuddling with him, as they’d done on the couch the night before.

Cuddling? When do we get hot and heavy sex?
Devil B.A. blared in her left ear with her teeny megaphone. Starting to drift, B.A. smiled. “Put a sock in it.”

Desmond roused, murmuring over a yawn. “Talking to yourself again?”

“Um… no…. ah… Dudley.”

As if called, Kitty popped up on the bed, walking on top of them. The luminous numbers of Desmond’s watch were clear in the darkened bedroom. The cat kneaded the comforter, his ragged purr loud as he settled down to go to sleep, half on Desmond, half on B.A.

Desmond let out with a soft snore. Dudley breathed out a rumbling sigh of contentment. B.A. smiled, her sigh echoing the kitty’s.

Sometimes things are just right with the world, she mused.

Chapter 13

A whimper broke B.A.‘s slumber. Hardly asleep an hour, she yawned. Warm and comfortable, she resisted waking, gradually becoming aware of what disturbed her.

Desmond.

His heart raced, thudding so hard it vibrated his whole body. His high metabolism was something to which she was growing accustomed, but he was on fire. Sweat drenched his skin. Concern propelled her from her cozy rest, dislodging Kitty. The cat stretched, yawned and then tried to settle down again, only Desmond jerked upright. Rolling the flopping Dudley off her lap, B.A. sat up and put her hand on Desmond’s shoulder.

His eyes were open, but he stared straight ahead, lacking real focus. Doll eyes. The eyes of a sleepwalker. Her sister, Raven, had gone through a period of sleepwalking after a rough divorce and miscarriage, so B.A. knew not to awaken Desmond.

Slipping from the bed, she crossed to the closet and dragged out the fan. The lulling white-noise helped her sleep when she was restless; maybe it’d relax Desmond as well. Pointing it toward him, she flipped it to high, then getting into bed again, she closed the canopy’s curtains on one side and along the foot so it’d be darkened.

Kissing his cheek, she whispered, “Des, lie down.” Surprisingly, he obeyed.

Putting a hand over his heart, she felt the beat, strong and steady. Certainty moved through her: She’d fallen hard for this man, and there was little she could do to protect herself. Refusing to give in to tears, she sighed, combating the panic threatening to swamp her.

The human body replaced every cell over a period of seven years. She’d grieved that long. Perhaps she hadn’t been mourning Evian as much as using her grief as a shield, giving herself space to heal, to be strong enough to face loving and the specter of losing again. It had taken this man with his panther grace, one smart enough to take pleasure in a friendship with a fat cat, one with eyes to see worth in a medieval ruin, to make progress past that shield.

“Des, roll onto your stomach,” she coaxed. When he didn’t react, she repeated the suggestion. Just as she assumed he wasn’t going to respond, he rotated.

She’d planned to give him a gentle back rub, to relax him, but Devil B.A. was wide-awake and had her pompoms out. Still, she told herself Desmond had been kind giving her the massage and just holding her the other night; surely she could return the favor.

She stroked her hand along his strong spine. Oh, the man had such a beautiful back. She wanted to bite him! Not a big bite. Just a nip… or two… or three. To rake her nails across him as he made love to her with that wild, unchecked passion she sensed in him. Lust rolled through her with a power she’d never fathomed.

She’d loved Evian, enjoyed their sex life, treasured their moments of closeness, of really-bonding with a man. Still, not once had need eaten at her with such grinding, animalistic force. Swallowing dryness in her mouth, she ran her hand over Desmond’s gorgeous back. Each stroke lessened the tension in his body, though increased hers. His heart rate gradually slowed.

Aching until she thought she’d go mad, she slid down next to him and closed her eyes. Thunder rolled in the distance.

Everyone had nightmares, those Freudian dreams of being on the edge of a cliff, fearing stepping off, falling into endless nothingness. It was a metaphor for a fear of failure, the dread of the unknown. It troubled her that a man so powerful, so controlled as Desmond had bad fantasies, and wondered what personal demons tormented him.

How sad: His sleep was haunted when she’d never felt safer than when resting in his arms.

Late afternoon shadows touched the room as B.A. opened one eye, sort of an “up periscope,” her brain coming online. Desmond lay on his stomach, awake and staring at her. A sexy feline smile curved those sensual lips. She wanted to kiss him, but she swallowed and knew instantly it was a bad idea.

His left hand reached over and grabbed her waist, edging her close. As he moved to kiss her, B.A. saved his life by putting her hand before her mouth.

“B.A., I want to kiss you.” His black brow crooked in puzzlement.

“No you don’t. Dragon-breath alert.”

He howled. “That bad, eh?”

She nodded. “Aye, something crawled in there and committed suicide.”

“I’m probably worse. Let’s swap nasties.”

“You sterilized everything in there last night with Stop-Breath.”

Desmond shifted to murmur into her hair, “Mmmm, we’re going to have to stop this.”

“What?”

“Sleeping together and not having sex. It’s hard on a man’s sanity.” He leaned over and nuzzled her ear, nipping his way down the curve of her shoulder. It sent a shudder up her spine, straight to the top of her head.

It was tempting to stay, dragon breath and all, especially when he tormented her with little nibbles on the flesh exposed by her gown. Selflessly, she pulled away. No man deserved the kiss of death. She might weaken and overlook the sour-green-nasties in her mouth, but she needed a shower, too. Romance might withstand one or the other, but both meant a rocky start to any courtship.

Desmond grabbed at the edge of her nightgown as she scooted away. Dodging, she dashed for the bathroom. Kitty scampered after her, enjoying the new game.

Brushing her teeth and jumping into the shower, B.A. tilted her head back, the cool water stinging as the spray hit her neck and breasts. As she picked up the soap and washcloth, the shower door opened. A sexy, sleepy expression in his bedroom eyes, Desmond stood in all his male splendor—without even a towel.

B.A.‘s eyes flitted to the washcloth in her hand, knowing it was too small to cover her. Taken by that wonderful expanse of male flesh and his rock-hard erection, high and hard against Desmond’s taut stomach, her gaze slid up his beautiful chest to those sensual lips.

“It’s too small,” he said.

B.A. choked. There were many adjectives that rose to mind, but small was not on her list. Her response burst out on a laugh. “You’re joking!”

He joined her chuckle. “No. The cloth—the thought crossed your mind to hide behind it.”

If he read her that clearly, he surely knew what ran through her head now. “Um, I did.”

“I fed Dudley half a bag of dry food. The phone in the bedroom is unplugged. Of course, it might not be working anyway. I put a chair under the door handle. No cat, no ringing, no nutty islanders to interrupt us.” Closing the shower door behind him, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. “We both have clean teeth. I’d like that kiss now.”

Her breasts pushed up against his chest in the unyielding embrace, leaving it hard to breathe, but then she always had trouble getting air when near him. In his arms, there was no escaping what he compelled her to feel. No hiding from her cowardly self.

She let him take her mouth, the kiss slow and gentle as he savored her. It made her dizzy. The man was hard on her knees.

Harder on her heart.

He backed her under the shower, the slow water pressure raining down on them, nearly turning to steam from their rising body temperatures. Kissing her as she’d never been kissed, he seared all memories from her mind. There was only Desmond. She snaked her arms up his, over the muscular shoulders to weave her fingers in his thick black hair, Arching her body against his, the fit was perfect. A deep inner sense said this was where she belonged.

Her body throbbed as desire pounded through her, rippled within her. Painful. A raw aching, the pulse of her heart, the need to feel him deep inside her, to share that primitive, pagan bond. The physical part of their attraction was mind-blowing.

But the emotional side crashed down on her.

For too long she’d kept everything contained. Getting through each day, contentment was all she permitted herself. It was a good day when she achieved that. Now the walls were down, crumbling under the gentle siege Desmond waged. He’d breached the inner keep where her heart was held in protection. The passion, the need, the love—he pushed her toward all, allowing no retreat. It was agonizing. It was too much. It was not enough.

She was shaking, hadn’t realized it until she sensed Desmond reining back. He cradled her in his embrace and kissed her eyelids. “Shhhh… easy. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s been—”

“A long time since you’ve been with a man? I know.” He kissed her nose and then smiled. “They say it’s like riding a bicycle.”

The gentle jest summoned a tight laugh as she fought to keep from crying. B.A. wanted to kick herself, but emotions held under protective glass for years were already loose.

“It’s… I… was…” She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting for words that explained her pain, her fear.

“I’m going to kiss you, B.A., and I want you to relax.”

There was such tenderness in his eyes that her shaking lessened. He did as promised—kissed her as he had that night by the car, warming every cell in her body, taking hold of her heart, surrounding it, cosseting it. Pulling back, he sighed.

“What set this off? It’s not inflating to a man’s ego that the woman he wants to make love with is ready to burst into tears.”

His erection nudged against her, setting off a short laugh. “Your ego dunna need any more inflating.”

She leaned back, sliding her hand down his taut stomach. It wasn’t six-pack defined, not even washboard, but trim, hard and sculpted in a way that set her womb to pulsing, tightening with hunger to where it was excruciating. Starting at the base of his erection, she curled her fingers around that magic heat, measured his silken length, then brushed her thumb over the soft tip.

“Mercy…” She wasn’t sure if the word came from her or him.

Desmond’s eyes shut, and he reveled in delicious torment as his body bucked against her hand. When she slid her fingers down, he grabbed her wrist and yanked it away. “Another time I’d be thrilled for you to test my
ticking,
but keep that up and things will come to an abrupt conclusion. And stop distracting me, B.A. What had you ready to cry?”

“Too many things. I’ve fought to keep my emotions under control for so long. It’s distressful when they run amok.”

He backed her into the corner of the tiled wall, leaning her against it. He brushed his lips over the faint cleft in her chin. “And?” he prompted.

The truth came out. “I’m thirty-seven, things are starting to… sag.”

The chuckle rumbled in his chest. “I’m forty-four. Frankly, I don’t see a problem.”

She grinned, brushing her hips against his groin. “You look ten years younger. I don’t see you sagging. No love-handles either.”

“I hadn’t noticed
you
toting baggage. You’ve a damn fine arse, woman.” He nuzzled her jaw and then chained kisses along the column of her neck. “But maybe my eyesight’s failing after that tap on the head. Want to check my eyes?”

She met his probing stare and sighed. “Your eyes are beautiful.”

“My green eyes?” He challenged. “They look normal?”

Drowning in their jade depths, she was unable to look away.

“Let’s see if I can locate this sagging.” His hands clutched her hips, his thumbs brushing over the slight swell of her belly to the indentation of her navel. “No sagging here.”

The long fingers followed the contours of her rib cage, causing B.A. to suck in her breath. He cupped her sensitive breasts, weighed their heaviness. Her raspy sigh of hunger pushed them against his palms, wanting more. Aching for more. A burning in her womb radiated with a vibrating, pounding plaint. It blotted out the fears clamoring in her head, morphing her trembling into one of need. She nearly melted from the fire he conjured in her.

“Hmm, no sagging there.” He nuzzled her neck. “Maybe I need a closer inspection.”

Desmond palmed her waist, raising a ripple of goose-bumps, then the arch of her hip. Hooking the back of her knee, he brought it about his waist so B.A. arched upward, open against him. Leaning down, he swiped his tongue across her sensitive nipple. Her gasp caused the corner of his mouth to tug upward. She empowered him.

Enthralled, Desmond tilted back enough to watch the desire play across B.A.‘s beautiful face. Then he moved in to tongue her nipple again. Once more he slanted back, studying the response reflected in her dark whisky eyes. If a picture was worth a thousand words, the portrait of B.A. in the grip of passion was more beautiful than all the sonnets ever penned.

Returning his attention to her soft breast, he licked a circle around the ruched flesh. As she assumed he would continue the playful torment, he took it into his mouth, quick, sucking hard, to shock her. She shattered, and an incandescent climax burned through her. Before she came down from its pain-pleasure edge, he thrust his hips and was inside her slick, welcoming warmth, catching her last internal ripples against his flesh.

Her body protested, eyes flying wide, internal muscles that had been dormant for years slow to adjust. Her nails dug into his shoulders. Then her body relaxed to accept his intrusion. Snaking his left arm under hers, Desmond braced them against the wall and waited, giving her a few breaths.

His own gasps were choppy, labored and fighting for a thread of control he leaned his forehead against hers. It took the last ounce of civilized man in him to hold at bay the selfish, primeval beast pounding through his veins. Lust gripped him, possessed him with a force he’d never known. It cost to hold back. But he did it—for B.A.

He took her mouth, kissed her with a hunger that was violent. He’d been with dozens of women. Yet all memories paled, faded to mist as everything felt new, special…
connected
.

Unable to stop himself, he flexed his hips, thrusting deeper into her. Then harder. Faster. B.A.‘s body tightened around him, ripples of her internal contractions triggering tactile sensations that skittered across his skin and exploded white-hot in his mind. It was nearly enough to drive him over the edge. He wanted to close his eyes, to drown in the sea of emotions raging in him, to surrender to the overwhelming dark grandeur. More important, he wanted to look into her eyes as she came apart around him, to know she saw him and his green eyes and not the memory of any blue ones.