Mulligan Stew (34 page)

Bridget approached him with a tentative step and a nervous expression. Since he'd practically seduced her at breakfast, he could easily imagine why she was tentative. He'd been a boor, then a brute, and now...

What, Mulligan? What do you want to be?

Lover. Aye, her lover.

He wanted to spread her out like a fine delicacy and savor every inch—

"Mr. Mulligan, I'm Brian Kelley from the Irish Trust."

The tall, thin man with a head full of wild red curls thrust his hand out and Riley shook it, struggling to control his lust for Bridget.

"Thank you for coming so soon," Bridget said.

"
Caisleán Dubh
is a site we've longed to explore. This is a treat." Smiling, he turned to face the tower. "My crew is ready when you are. Are you both very sure you want to be present during the inspection? It could be dangerous, depending on what we find."

Bridget's breath came out in a whoosh, and she said, "Yes, please." She looked at Riley and waited for him to say something. Anything.

Finally, he grunted and gave a curt nod. "Let's do it," he said, holding her gaze. "Then... we'll see." *****

* * *

Was that promise Bridget saw in his eyes? What had changed?

Everything.

They had silently acknowledged their mutual attraction—right or wrong—and now they were going
together
with the inspection team.

You're a glutton for punishment.
That was what Granny would've said. Not that the time Bridget had spent in Riley's arms was punishment. On the contrary—those brief moments had been breathtaking. Unforgettable. Her cheeks warmed.

She looked up at him, reminding herself of what it must have been like to have been the ten-year-old boy who'd found his daddy inside this castle. Her knees felt like uncooked sausage that would collapse at any moment. She drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

This is what you wanted, Bridget. The inspection.

But be careful what you wish for.

For once, she wished she could silence her memories of Granny's endless clichés—wise or not. Right and wrong didn't matter when faced with destiny.

Yes, destiny.
Crazy or not, Bridget knew she was facing just that with
Caisleán Dubh
.

And Riley.

After his game of footsie at breakfast, she could barely face him. What had come over the man?
Don't think about that now. Think about the inspection. About the castle. About Mulligan Stew.

She faced the doors, relishing the wash of welcoming whispers that sighed over her. Yes, this was right.

Was she more nervous about being near Riley inside the castle again, or about the inspection itself? One thing was for danged certain—she would
not
touch that banister again. Remembering her crazed reaction to it, she wondered how she could avoid ever touching it again after she opened Mulligan Stew and worked there every day.

"Mr. Mulligan, why don't you and your wife wait over here until we get the doors open?"

Bridget's sharp gasp drew Riley's gaze. She didn't find the accusation and suspicion there she'd expected. Instead, his green eyes reflected confusion and the heat of desire. Well, they had both in common, and neither of them bothered to correct Mr. Kelley.

Warmth insinuated itself between her legs and spread from there. The sight of him at this castle made her ache all over again. Yes, craving was the perfect word to describe what she felt for Riley.

"My crew will go in first with an industrial vacuum that will remove enough dust to allow us to examine surfaces more thoroughly," Mr. Kelley said, withdrawing a note pad and pencil, and jarring Bridget back to the present. He handed hard hats to both Riley and Bridget, and donned one himself. His wild hair poked out from beneath the sides and back. "We'll follow a few minutes later."

Riley grunted acknowledgment and Bridget merely nodded. Their lack of outward enthusiasm must have confused Mr. Kelley. Considering how important this day was to Bridget, she should've been jumping up and down with anticipation.

Oh, she was jumping up and down on the inside. With total confusion. How could she want Riley so much and not... love him? She'd loved Culley with all her heart, so the wanting had come naturally. In fact, Culley and Riley were the only men who'd ever aroused her sexually.

Did that mean...

No.
She couldn't be in love with Riley. The thought made her mouth go dry and her hands tremble as she watched the crew use crowbars to pry open the massive double doors. The iron hinges groaned and squeaked in protest, and Mr. Kelley jotted several notes.

Her future was at stake, and maybe Jacob's. She needed money and some security, though at least her fear that Riley might steal her son had eased. Still, she was a single mother with a child to raise and no income. Even with the family farm, which Fiona insisted was part hers and Jacob's, Bridget still needed to pull her own weight.

She'd worked hard her whole life and it felt strange not to have a job to go to each day, and money of her own to spend on Jacob's new shoes. Still, she loved keeping house alongside Fiona, but it just wasn't the same. Mulligan Stew would belong to
Bridget.
At least, for the most part...

Besides, she needed this for herself. Not just the money, but the feeling of self worth and accomplishment it could bring. She'd also learned through the years that independence was a very good thing. She didn't want to be beholden to the Mulligans or anyone.

Squaring her shoulders, she focused on that and forced thoughts of Riley and sex and love far to the back of her mind. She hoped.

Love. Forget that, Bridget. Just forget it.
So she lied to herself and concentrated on the present. This was her castle. Her future. She smiled as the men filed inside with ladders and flashlights, ropes and various tools. The sound of the vacuum Mr. Kelley had mentioned roared to life, echoing from inside.

After what seemed like an hour, the noise ceased.

"Shall we?" Mr. Kelley asked, indicating that they could enter through the open doors.

Riley stood frozen, staring at the gaping chasm. Bridget sensed his fear and touched his arm. Touching him felt so good. So right. She had to fight against the urge to put her arms around him and pull him to her.

"It's all right, Riley," she said quietly. Mr. Kelley had gone on ahead. "Let's go."

He met her gaze and she saw his Adam's apple work up and down the length of his throat. Finally, he nodded and took a few steps toward the entrance. He stopped part-way and looked over his shoulder, holding his hand out toward her.

Bridget's heart skipped a beat and she couldn't breathe, let alone walk, for several seconds. Wrestling her resolve into place, she joined Riley and slipped her small hand into his large one. She met his gaze and found intensity, heat, and confusion waging a fierce battle there as they must have been in her own eyes.

"Promise me something," she said, her voice shaky.

"What?"

"Don't touch anything while you're touching me."

He gave her a cock-eyed grin and a nod, but his eyes told her that he remembered every delicious and terrifying detail of what had transpired—and almost transpired—between them the other evening.

"We're standing on part of it now, Bridget," he reminded her, glancing down at their joined hands. "And I'm touching you."

Touching him—especially here—was dangerous. But it also seemed right. She drew comfort from the feel of his strong hand holding hers as they took a few more steps and entered
Caisleán Dubh
.

Like a song, the whispers swirled around them. They both stood still as the castle serenaded them. Welcomed them.

"Like a bloody doorbell," Riley whispered.

Confused, Bridget shook her head, then realized what he'd meant and laughed. Her laughter sounded nervous, but that made perfect sense, too. She met his gaze again and his crooked smile gave him a softer, more youthful appearance than the scowl he usually wore. His smile crawled inside her and lit a steady, warm glow in her heart, far different from the fiery longing in her loins.

Mr. Kelley was talking and taking notes. "I suppose we should pay attention," Riley murmured.

Oh, she
was
paying attention, but to Riley. To how much he'd changed. Why?

"Don't you..." She bit her lower lip as Riley paused and leaned his head closer to hear her. "Don't you believe in the curse anymore?"

He stared at her for several silent seconds. "Aye. Or something."

Now
that
was definitely different.

"Let's have us a look around now that there's some light," he said, surprising her again.

Bridget blinked and turned her attention to the main chamber she'd visited twice before, but in darkness. Sea air poured in from behind them, filling the room with its freshness. Dust motes danced in the daylight flooding the dark, once-forbidden room.

Mr. Kelley had paused several feet in front of them, and had his flashlight aimed at the huge portrait over the massive hearth. "There be magic here," the inspector said with complete sincerity.

"Aye," Riley said reverently.

"Oh, yes," Bridget agreed, amazed that Riley had agreed with Mr. Kelley. "There's magic here." She looked at Riley again. "Or something."

Just don't touch the doggone banister.

Mr. Kelley followed his men around, taking notes, measurements, and giving orders. He was a man who was passionate about his work. That became increasingly evident by how careful and insistent he was to leave everything as they'd found it. Only the dust and the bats were disturbed, and the latter sought refuge high in the dark tower, away from the sunlight flooding the main chamber.

"It's... it's beautiful." Bridget paused before the hearth, again drawn to the portrait. Mr. Kelley had moved to the back of the chamber with his crew. Gazing up at the painting, she asked, "Who is he?"

Riley released her hand and stepped onto the hearth to examine the massive portrait more closely. "Aye, as I suspected," he said after wiping dust away from an engraved plate on the bottom center of the frame. "'Tis himself—Aidan Mulligan."

Aidan.
Bridget remembered the story Maggie had told her. "The curse started with him," she said.

Riley looked at her sharply, his brows drawn together. "How would you be knowing that?"

"Um..." Bridget lifted one shoulder. "Maggie told me, because I asked."

"Aye, she knows the tale as all Mulligans do." He stood back and rubbed his chin, turning to admire the portrait again. "Who knows? Maybe the story will change before it's passed on to young Jacob."

Bridget's heart did a handspring. Something had
definitely
changed. Something significant. Big. She swallowed hard, vowing to restrain her urge to ask him outright. Their relationship had been hostile at first, then barely polite, and now...

Almost friendly.

Well, except for them having the hots for each other. That was more than friendly. Much more...

Bridget's face flooded with liquid fire and she turned her attention back to Aidan's portrait. She barely made out his features through centuries of grime. "I wonder if it can be restored, too?"

"The portrait?" Riley stared up at his ancestor, his expression unfathomable. "We'll see."

At least he wasn't outright denying her the chance. She had hope. Mulligan Stew could become a reality yet. Hope insinuated itself in her heart and stayed.

"I'd like to follow Mr. Keen and his crew into the other rooms," she said, almost as a question. She didn't want to anger Riley now—not while she was so close. However, she would go with or without his permission.

"Aye." He sighed. "We're here, so we might as well see what we can."

The castle's whispering faded and increased haphazardly. The only times Bridget was certain it always grew louder were when she and Riley had first entered the castle, while they were near the portrait of Aidan Mulligan, and—especially—near the banister. Other times, it seemed to come and go.

"The structure seems sound," Riley admitted. "And solid."

"Oh, yes." Anticipation buzzed through her. The castle was even more perfect for her plans than she'd hoped. She heard the crew shouting information and measurements to Mr. Keen. She no longer felt the need to shadow the crew. She knew
Caisleán Dubh
would pass its inspection.

"Tell me, Bridget," Riley said as they made their way toward the back of the main room, "how do you envision using this particular room?"

She bit her lower lip, afraid to think in much detail, but unable to prevent it. "At first, as a great dining room. The floor is marble, I think."

"Aye." Riley brushed some dust aside with his boot. "White, once upon a time. And I believe the columns are all marble, too."

"Picture it with massive tables, and vines growing around the columns. Very romantic." Bridget saw it all so clearly. "The tables will be of dark, gleaming wood. I'll use brocaded table runners to complement the heavy draperies that will hang at the tall, arched windows." She walked over to one of the windows, amazed to find it unbroken. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of them all.