Mulligan Stew (29 page)

She
wanted
Riley Mulligan. The mortal man. Not any dream lover. The flesh and blood, dangerously handsome, gentle and patient man. Though he'd shown her his ugly side, she'd seen his goodness in the way he treated his momma and sister. And especially Jacob.

He was confusing—angry one minute and brooding the next. Then without any warning at all, he'd wax as charming as that used car salesman who'd lived in the trailer next door to Granny's.

Bridget had to resist her attraction to the flesh and blood Riley, though she had no control over what happened in her dreams. Maybe someday, if the dreams didn't end now, she'd find satisfaction in her sleep.

A hot flush crept over her and her heart did a flip.

One thing at a time. First, she needed the inspection and the restaurant. Once she had an income, she might consider separate living quarters for her and Jacob, though she dearly loved being near Fiona and Maggie. Still, it might be for the best to put some distance between herself and Riley. Meanwhile, she had to keep her crazy libido under control.

And remember never to touch that banister again....

"Well, I'm heading back now," she said. "Do you want the flashlight?"

He pinned her with his gaze. "Why did you have to come here and cause so much trouble?"

She lifted her chin a notch. "I haven't done anything to cause trouble."

He made a snorting sound and shook his head. "What do you call what happened—or almost happened—here this evening?"

"Magic." Bridget looked back over her shoulder. "There's magic here."

"There's a curse here."

She stomped her foot and thought every dirty word she'd ever heard Granny utter. "I reckon we'll see what the inspector has to say."

Riley sighed and lifted one shoulder. "I agreed to an inspection. Nothing more."

Realization slammed into Bridget. Speechless, she stared at Riley for several moments. He'd never had any intention of letting them renovate and open a restaurant. He'd only agreed to the inspection because of Jacob.

Instead of calling him all the names that exploded in her mind, or telling him just what she thought about his obstinance and that stupid old curse, she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin a notch, and did what Granny would've done.

She showed him her middle finger and walked away.

Chapter 14

Riley worked like the devil himself was on his tail. He plowed, mowed, raked, fed the cattle, birthed a calf, and sheared a few sheep. He was ready to drop. However, it was considerate of the calf to give him something to do. Busy hands...

Jacob had helped him part of the morning, but had opted to help his
mamó
the rest of the day. Mum was putting in the later additions to her kitchen garden and insisted she needed Jacob's help.

However, Riley suspected his mum had sensed his surly mood and intervened to give her son a bit of privacy, or to spare the lad from his uncle's temper.

Wise woman, Mum.

He straightened from the angry sheep and released the wild, woolly thing into the pasture. He was filthy. Dirt and wool had stuck to the sweat he'd worked up while mowing and raking.

"Go on with you now, you little she-devil," he said, nudging the ewe away when she just stood there staring at him after her haircut. After the way she'd fought him, he'd expected her to run fast. "Silly sheep. Female, of course." He sorted the contaminated clumps of wool and bagged the good for Mum.

He paused to take a long drink of water. Nothing—not even an unholy amount of hard labor—could make him forget last night. He stood staring toward
Caisleán Dubh
. Remembering.

His throat contracted and he shoved his hair away from his face. He couldn't decide which part was worse—the memory of almost succumbing to Bridget's charms, or the crazed way that bloody castle had made him feel and act.

"Aye, crazed." He released a long sigh and took another sip. Problem was, he couldn't deny the painful truth.

Even without the bloody curse, he would still want Bridget.

Eejit.
Aye, but truth was Riley's way. He couldn't even fib to himself. Pity, that. Wouldn't lying to himself ease his tortured brain, if nothing else? He glanced down at the fly of his jeans. Not even a well-turned fib would control
that
.

Had he ever wanted a woman more? He drew a deep breath of salt-tinged air. No. Never.

"Jaysus. I
still
want her," he whispered.

I always will.

He squeezed his eyes closed and swayed, remembering the way she'd felt in his arms. Tasted. Looked. And his foolish body responded to the memories with more enthusiasm than Riley could stand. He grabbed the rake leaning nearby and flung it halfway across the pasture. There was nothing in harm's way. At least he was still sane enough to know
that
. Unfortunately, it didn't help. Nothing would. Not now. Not ever.

"
Shite
."

"Who are you trying to kill?" a female voice asked from the rock wall several feet away.

Riley looked over quickly, both relieved and disappointed to find Katie sitting on the wall instead of Bridget. "When did you take up spying on working men?"

Hoping her gaze didn't wander below his belt, he walked toward her, acutely conscious of his appearance and, undoubtedly, his odor. A man didn't sweat this much without working up a good stink. Aye, but wouldn't he rather she smelled him than noticed his blatant erection?

Working himself practically to death was supposed to eliminate those urges. Any other time, about any other woman, it might have. This time, there was only one cure....

"My, but aren't we in a sour mood?" Katie shook her head and slid off the stone wall. "I suppose living under the same roof with... with
her
would make me surly, too."

Riley had to chuckle at that. "And I wonder which one of you would be left among the living if that were true."

Katie narrowed her gaze. "Don't wonder."

The woman is vindictive.
He'd never noticed that about Katie before. Of course, she'd been engaged to Culley—not Riley. He'd never really paid her much attention before Bridget's arrival. For that matter, Katie had spoken to him more in the last few weeks than in the last ten years.

"What brings you out here so late in the day?" he asked, deciding it best to change the subject.

"Granddad." She sighed and pursed her perfectly painted lips. "He's annoying."

"Brady?" Riley frowned. "I'm surprised. I always thought you were close."

"Aye, when I was a wee lass." She gave an exaggerated sigh. "Now he keeps nagging me about some old papers he left stored in my closet before he went to the States."

"Papers?" Riley's stomach growled and he took a deep breath in hopes of silencing it. He'd worked like the devil and smelled worse. On top of that, he was half-starved. However, he forced himself to make polite conversation with the woman who
should
have been his sister-in-law. "What papers?"

"Research papers. What else?" She rolled her eyes. "He's so determined to write his silly book that he came out here to get Fiona's blessing."

Riley frowned and rubbed his chin. "I don't follow. What does Mum have to do with—"

"The curse, Riley," she said dramatically. "Remember?"

"Ah, that."

"Aye, that."

"And he wanted Mum's blessing for what purpose?" Riley still didn't understand the connection. "He can do research without asking her permission."

"Aye, but he said it would be disrespectful to go through the parish records without her blessing."

"Mulligan records?"

"Aye."

Riley lifted a shoulder. "Brady has always been fascinated with the history of
Caisleán Dubh
. There's no law against doing research." He tilted his head slightly and narrowed his gaze. "Why does that bother you?"

"Well..." Her face flushed and she looked downward for several seconds, as if contemplating her next words. "Did Culley ever tell you why we had to get married?"

"
Had
to?" Didn't the woman realize what that meant? "I'm thinking that's not exactly what you—"

"Oh, no. Not... not
that
."

Riley had always considered Katie somewhat cold. Unlike Bridget, who had passion and sexuality to spare.
Don't think about that.
He seriously doubted that Katie and Culley had ever been intimate, despite their engagement.

"About the curse, Riley."

"What?" He mentally shook himself, trying to figure out where and when he'd lost the thread of their conversation. "You lost me, lass. What do you and my brother have to do with the curse?"

She leaned closer, a conspiratorial look in her eyes. "We were soul-mates."

A burst of laughter forced Riley to choke and feign a fit of coughing to disguise it. "Well, now, I didn't realize... that," he said, hoping he appeared more sincere than he felt.

So much for never lying, Mulligan.
Well, he hadn't
exactly
lied—simply didn't offer his complete thoughts on the subject at hand. He cleared his throat.

"Aye, 'tis true." An odd twinkle appeared in her eyes. "I found the proof in Granddad's notes."

Suspicion slithered through Riley. "Would that be in his
missing
notes?"

Katie's face reddened and she took a step back, her eyes widening. "I didn't
steal
them, though I probably did misplace them." She lifted one shoulder and gave him a sad smile. "I was heartbroken after Culley...."

You big oaf.
Guilt, guilt, and more bloody guilt tormented him. "There, now. Culley wouldn't—Ooof."

She threw herself into his arms, tears mingling with his sweat to thoroughly soak his sleeve. He had no choice but to put his arms loosely around her shoulders and pat her back. What else could a man do when a woman threw herself against him in a crying jag?

After several minutes of Katie's weeping and carrying on, Riley pushed her away and gripped her shoulders. "We'll have enough of that, now," he said firmly, but without cruelty. "Culley's been gone nearly eight years. The time for tears is long past. Besides, I'm filthy."

She sniffled and made a great show of bringing herself under control. "Aye, he wouldn't want me to cry."

"So don't."
Please.

"I'll be strong."

"Good."

"As I was saying, the papers told about the reason for the curse."

Riley's heart thudded against his chest. "And haven't the Mulligans all cut our teeth on that tragic tale?"

"I'm sure, but the priest at the time claimed that a
cailleach
cast a spell on
Caisleán Dubh
after the tragedy."

"The tragedy happened on Aidan Mulligan's wedding day." Riley knew the story by heart, as his da had told it to them dozens of times. "Aidan fell in love with a local lass—a peasant girl—but he was promised to another."

"You
do
know the story." Katie appeared smug now. "The
cailleach
was the peasant girl's aunt or something."

"I've not heard anything about a
cailleach
."

"That's the important part that most don't know," she said quietly. "Granddad's notes said the curse will end when Aidan weds his true love."

"That's rubbish and nonsense." Despite the voice of reason, Riley's throat constricted and his heart thudded louder. "Aidan Mulligan and his peasant girl died centuries ago."

"Aye. That's how I knew Culley and I were soul-mates." Katie pouted again.

"I'll not stand still for one more tear, Katie Rearden," Riley warned. "I'm tired, filthy, and hungry, and you're spouting folly."

She gripped his arm and leaned closer. "Not nonsense, Riley," she said, her tone intense. "'Tis true that the theory Granddad wrote about in his notes sounds like a fairy-tale. A romantic fairy-tale at that. But ask yourself what could happen if Aidan's spirit has lived on in his descendants?"